Chapter 129: The Gap (Part 2)
“Based on the news we received earlier, we’re locked in a fierce battle with the Third Knight Order. The Church is resisting fiercely, and if both Knight Orders meet in Alectine City, the Fog Hidden will be at a disadvantage. Defeat would just be a matter of time.”
“If the news is true, then Pope Angel, Judgment Fist Isaac, and that… Silvya. They might return sooner than we expect. If that’s the case, Miss Ailna… how should we respond?”
The frail old man bent low, his pale head downcast. After speaking, he quietly awaited the woman’s response. But after a long while, the dancer named Ailna still hadn’t uttered a word.
She gazed at the setting sun, slowly raising her hands, clasping them to her chest, striking a praying pose.
“Miss Ailna…”
The old man couldn’t help but remind her.
“The Jester’s actions have been going smoothly so far. The Tears of the Goddess are in his hands, and the Church hasn’t caught on yet. He is expected to sneak in here and meet us in three days… or there’s a chance he might just barge in boldly. If that happens, the number of deaths here could be several times what we’d anticipated, but it won’t affect our actions…”
“If possible, with the Jester’s flashy personality, he could draw the Church’s attention while we sneak in the Tears of the Goddess into the forest. That wouldn’t be a bad plan… the southern territories are engulfed in war, with countless casualties. The Jester’s brutal tactics have surely touched the Church’s bottom line, we can—”
“Shut up.”
Suddenly, the woman interrupted him.
Her tone remained calm, devoid of any emotion, but the old man shivered, his unfinished words caught in his throat, too scared to utter another syllable, bowing in place, motionless.
The oppressive silence between master and servant didn’t last long before the woman spoke again: “Sebastian.”
“…Yes, Miss.”
The woman lowered her hands from prayer, turned around, and looked down at the old man. After a moment, her tone floated like a gentle breeze: “We’re all going to hell, aren’t we?”
As soon as those words fell, the old man trembled again, speechless, bowing his head even lower, almost kneeling.
“We’re all going to hell…”
The woman repeated, raising her head.
In the distance, the setting sun slowly descended between the endless mountain ridges.
Night was approaching.
On the eve of the night, in this desolate, untraveled area, the low-headed old man noticed a light whispering in front of him: “After this, I want the Jester dead here.”
…………
Meanwhile, south of Woodward Forest, ten kilometers away.
In a valley filled with waterlogged mud pits, a pale-faced man was riding a Horned Horse at a trot, irritably tugging at his hair while muttering angrily: “d*mn it! That annoying little girl has been like a clingy piece of gum lately, buzzing around like a fly! Always popping up when you least expect it, ruining everyone’s good mood! No matter how hard I shake her off, she just keeps coming back! It’s like trying to hit a slippery eel! Ugh…”
“Hey, do you think she’s maybe in love with me? I mean, seriously, with that pathetic, clingy attitude, she’s either in love with me or I’ve killed her mother… but I’m not in the mood to k*ll her mother. I’m a good guy! Good guys don’t k*ll parents; that kind of terrible thing just isn’t in my nature… I don’t even know her! For crying out loud!”
The more he ranted, the angrier he got, scratching his head as if trying to peel off his scalp.
“This is what happens when you’re too nice. If you don’t k*ll someone’s whole family, they’ll find a way to k*ll yours… I mean, come on, do good people really deserve to be bullied like this?”
The men following behind exchanged glances, stifling laughter. They all knew he was rambling. This was just part of his charm, something they had gotten used to. But after a moment, someone couldn’t hold it in and chuckled aloud: “Mr. J, not to stir the pot, but where do you find good people who talk about killing off families?”
“Hahahaha—”
Laughter echoed in the valley.
The man in the lead, Mr. J, ignored the giggles behind him and kept ranting: “d*mn it, I still believe that little girl probably isn’t really in love with me; she just might be simply desperate or craving a man… If she wants a man, go to a tavern! Why come to me? Why?! I would never like her; I hate her, and I hate her lightning… She isn’t some innocent little girl who could charm me into loving her…”
“That woman is the one the Fog Hidden mentioned, isn’t she? The one we encountered at sea?” someone piped up.
“Exactly…”
“Didn’t they say she was dead? Why is she here, biting at us like a mad dog? That d*mn Fog Hidden lied to me! I hate it when people lie to me! Ha! May they all go d*e.”
“Though she’s heavily injured, she probably won’t chase us for a while…”
“Just wait till I see her again; I’ll personally k*ll her entire family!”
Mr. J ranted on, his tone ever so slightly unhinged. The men behind him wore amused expressions, tolerating their boss’s babbling while quietly urging their mounts, looking relaxed, though their eyes were scanning the surroundings, hands resting on their sword hilts, ever vigilant for any potential ambushers.
As they moved through the winding paths of the valley, they emerged at the mouth of the gorge, revealing an endless open plain ahead, with sparse grass and bushes littering the ground. The sludge-covered earth emitted a foul stench, and a quick glance revealed a rotting corpse drifting in a nearby puddle.
“Tsk tsk, what a pity…” Mr. J remarked as he gazed at the floating corpse, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Those hypocrites from the Holy Church, always prattling about love and salvation. After telling so many lies, they might just start believing them themselves. They sit in their warm houses by the crackling fire, munching on sickly sweet food, bragging about their grand deeds. In the end, how many people know what’s happening here? Or how many would even care to know?”
He said, wearing a sardonic grin, as he rode past the corpse, leaving the valley behind.
“Well, that’s not really my problem.”
The men behind him followed, looking ahead. At the edge of the plain, half-hidden in the mist, a rolling mountain range loomed, with a vast sea of trees resembling green waves encompassing the land.
“Look.”
Someone unfolded a map, pointing at the forest: “That’s Woodward Forest, the legendary place where the Deity sealed the Dragon.”
“Oh…”
“Looks pretty spectacular from here, ha!”
“My heart’s racing…”
“I can see the Church’s watchtower! Hehe, Mr. J, what’s our plan? Just charge right in?”
“Pretty much.”
Mr. J shrugged, seemingly indifferent.
“Ha! I love this part!”
The questioner turned to his companion: “Hacha, how many do you plan to k*ll this time before you get tired?”
“Of course, I’ll k*ll every single one I see! Why would you even ask? You think I’d leave any for emotional bonding?”
“Ha, you’re truly cocky.”
“Hey, hey, hey, I bet there’s a whole pile of Knights over there, so watch out and don’t trip over your own feet.”
Laughter floated behind as they chatted among themselves. Mr. J’s mouth twitched as if he were smiling and then waved his hand casually: “Before that, don’t forget our mission. Miss Ailna is still waiting. You lot better not get too excited; we can’t afford to mess up the real deal—”
Suddenly, his smile vanished, and a cold glint flashed in his eyes like a blade.
At that moment, the man named Hacha was at the back, just stepping out of the valley onto the plain, still chatting with his companions, his grin undiminished. The next second, a bright golden light erupted from a nearby hilltop!
Buzz—
The sound of a miracle echoed for just a moment.
With the shrill whistle of air being sliced, a blinding beam shot down from the hilltop, instantly piercing through Hacha’s head and ripping through another heretic’s neck riding nearby. The beast let out a roar before crashing down, gore and brains exploding outwards. Hacha was left with just a jaw, his body swaying before crumpling to the ground.
“Ah, Hacha!”
“d*mn woman! I’ll chop you up!”
“Wait! It’s not her, it’s not her!!!”
“It’s the Church’s bastards—”
Amidst the chaos, the Horned Horse reared, shrieking as crimson flames shot forth, propelled by a fierce wind toward the hill. With thunderous explosions, earth and stone tumbled as two figures like lightning—glimmering with faint luminescence—leapt from the inferno, hurtling past Mr. J and his party before landing.
Mud splattered down.
Two figures, one tall and one short, stood upright about ten meters away from the remaining five heretics, blocking Mr. J’s path.
The beast beneath Mr. J grew increasingly restless, the pale-faced man reached out to soothe its head, squinting at the two figures ahead, and the atmosphere grew tense.
“Dogs of the Church!”
Suddenly, a heretic roared, charging forward, but J shouted, “Stop!”
“Mr. J—”
“I said, stop.”
The man’s eyes narrowed to slits, his lips twitching violently, a smile that veered on the edge of madness spreading across his face, exuding an intimidating murderous aura.
He stared unblinkingly at the two, his gaze sweeping over their cloaks. From the front, their cloaks closely resembled those of the Pope Knights, though entirely black. Their faces were shrouded in the shadows of their hoods, making it impossible to discern their features—only their forms suggested a male and a female.
Mr. J stared at the silent duo for a long time.
“Ah…”
Then, he massaged his forehead, letting out a sigh-like groan: “Well, this is… not surprising at all…”
“…The Choir of Saints.”
