Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Four: Grayscale (Nine)
The clouds drifted across the sky as the sun rose.
A stench-filled wind blew in from the town, rustling the leaves of the towering trees that surrounded the northern mountains. Warm sunlight streamed through the gaps in the leaves, illuminating the disheveled figures of dozens of dirty survivors in the woods.
These were the unlucky townsfolk who had managed to escape. Among them were residents of Stag Town, a father and daughter who had come from a nearby village to watch a show, and a scrawny group of refugees likely fleeing from the southern borders.
Silence hung over them. Despite having distanced themselves from the inferno engulfing their town, and from the terrible demon, the fear in their eyes had not dissipated. They trudged along the mountain path, heads bowed and expressions blank, hardly anyone spoke. A woman cried softly in pain from her burns but dared not scream too loudly. One person turned back to glance at the rising smoke, their face a portrait of sorrow.
After a night had passed, Stag Town, once vibrant, was no more.
Before last night, the town had been bustling, full of life and laughter, despite its remote and impoverished existence. Hope sparkled in the eyes of its people, bright lights shone during festivities, and dancers captivated hearts. The disaster would surely bring wealth to the town, and things would only get better; the mischievous young lads could even marry pretty girls.
– Such feelings now felt like a distant dream.
Home was gone.
People were gone.
Those who had survived the town’s destruction likely found themselves here.
The rampaging demon descended from the skies, and the Church’s resistance crumbled like a house of cards. Once strong knights—reliable and reassuring—were drained of bl**d and reduced to ash in a moment of hellish brightness, as the demon unleashed its wicked power.
Then came hell.
Many had died. Countless husbands and wives were lost, and their children perished as well. There were limbs flying, heads rolling, some struck down by lightning, turning to char in an instant. Soon, hardly anyone was left alive.
Those who managed to reach this place were undoubtedly very fortunate.
This luck led them to believe that perhaps the deities still showed them favor, allowing them to survive such a hellscape, though most of them didn’t fully grasp it yet.
But they had lived.
Among the crowd were even those few who faced calamity head-on, fleeing from the southern lands, unsure of why they had survived, or how they ended up here. They could barely walk, having soiled themselves, the stench nearly unbearable, yet they pushed on, teeth gritted, refusing to collapse.
They had lived.
Some had lost their fiancées; others had lost their parents and children. A family had come for a show, but now it was just one surviving member. Yet still, as long as they were alive, hope remained.
Tears were swallowed down, and they resolved to keep moving.
The sunlight spilled through the trees, bright clouds floated above, and eagles soared through the sky. The escaped townspeople wandered weakly, aimlessly through the woods at the mountain’s foot, until they began to make their way up the mountain path.
The first demon had come from the south; others came sweeping in from the east. Rumor had it that many had fled west, but no one knew their fate or whether they had really escaped. The people fleeing north from the town could only follow this narrow mountain path.
This path had not existed before, but since Stag Town had so many hunters, they frequently came this way to hunt, and over time a trail had emerged. They were familiar with the area and knew that if they crossed this modestly high mountain, a way to safety lay ahead. There were beasts, fruits, and creeks; if they traveled north for a few days, they could reach the nearby villages.
They wouldn’t d*e…
As the crowd stepped onto the narrow path, inhaling the fresh, odor-free air, trees parted, revealing a bare mountain ridge ahead. The view opened up, and the gentle sunlight warmed their faces. The man leading the group rubbed his sore eyes.
He took a deep breath, as if stepping out from a torturous nightmare. The tension in his shoulders relaxed, and the feeling of having survived calmed his heart, even if just a little.
The man lifted his head, his bloodshot eyes wide, cracked lips trembling in disbelief. “We… we’re still alive…”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw a woman nearby collapse to her knees, weeping loudly. Someone tore a ragged sleeve from their shirt, silently starting to bandage a wound. An old man sat down, leaning against a tree, while another rested against a nearby bluestone, tears brimming in their eyes as they chuckled softly, the sound hollow.
A breeze swept through, tousling their soot-covered hair, revealing faces stained with either tears or smiles.
Then, a figure emerged from the other side of the mountain.
The first to notice was the man at the front; he saw someone walking out from behind the ridge—distant and unclear, hard to determine gender or age. But the long robe they wore gleamed faintly golden in the sunlight.
It was a cleric from The Holy Church.
The man stared at the figure, and after a fleeting moment of confusion and panic, he recognized that it could not be a demon. The distinct clerical robes were unmistakable. He opened his mouth to shout, but a wave of emotion left him speechless, tears spilling from his reddened eyes.
In his hazy vision, the figure stood atop the far-off mountain, seemingly noticing them, turning to wave behind them, more figures appearing, one after another, all clad in robes.
“Oh my God…”
The man was so overwhelmed with excitement that he couldn’t find the words. He clasped his hands tight against his chest, eyes fixed on the familiar figures on the distant ridge, sending forth the most sincere prayers from his heart.
At this moment, many others followed his gaze, seeing the figures standing on the mountain. They recognized them as clergy.
Joy exploded like fireworks.
The elderly man sitting on the ground stood up shakily, while the weeping woman began running towards the mountain, believing they were saved. These kind and compassionate clerics would treat them with the best food and the sweetest spring water, for they were all children of the divine.
Those who had narrowly escaped the clutches of the demon, once numb and nearly insensate, suddenly felt their hunger pangs, thirst, fatigue, and deep-seated fear surge to the forefront. They began waving and shouting, and some, caught up in excitement, laughed through tears and snot.
Finally… salvation.
It felt like they were reborn.
Then they saw the figure in the center of the mountain, looking down and waving to the others, giving some sort of signal or command.
In the next moment, golden light erupted.
Buzz—
The sound of divine miracles resonated, brilliant light shooting up from the ridge, followed by something whistling through the air, bringing a fierce wind and blinding brightness.
The light flickered for just a moment in their eyes.
Sizzle!
A quiet sound, akin to lamb chops hitting a hot pan, came from the chest of the man who had been running ahead, momentarily stunning him. His instincts kicked in, and his legs continued forward, but a moment later, he caught a whiff of burning, and before he could process what was happening, his legs suddenly buckled beneath him, and he fell to the ground.
Thud!
…What just happened?
The man tumbled on the ground for several rolls, the world hazy but unfeeling at first, just a chill creeping in as if his chest had been filled with air. Lowering his hand instinctively, he felt a gaping hole the size of a bowl, warm and sticky.
But he couldn’t comprehend what had taken place.
Above, the bright blue sky dimmed again, the warm sun hidden behind clouds.
The man was dead.
A beam of light had pierced a large hole through his chest. bl**d pooled beneath him, and his eyes remained wide open, brow furrowed, a touch of confusion on his face as he gazed into the sky.
People’s steps began to slow.
“Ahhh—”
A woman’s scream shattered the moment.
The shrill cry pierced the heavens, and it was as if reality dawned on the crowd. They looked at the fallen man, their frantic pace halted, faces stunned, disbelieving. Some began to step back, but in the next moment, more light came roaring down, raining upon them like raindrops.
Buzz buzz buzz buzz—
The resonance of miracles trembled in the air, the sharp beams of light piercing through bodies, exploding heads, causing dust to rise from the ground. bl**d and limbs flew high into the air. Some finally reacted, frantically trying to run back, but then bang, they crashed into the light wall and were torn apart by the golden light raining down.
Crying, wailing echoed along the mountain path outside Stag Town, in a place far from the demons, playing a tragic symphony.
Soon, silence fell once more.
On the ridge above, Archbishop Ansiel coldly gazed upon the carnage of bodies and bl**d scattered along the mountain path. Once the last person fell amidst the bombardment of miracles, he waved to command the accompanying clergy to begin the cleanup before turning to leave. Someone followed him, prompting him to casually ask, “This is the last batch of people, right?”
“From the north, it should be. But just in case, I’ll send another white bird to scout the mountains,” came the reply.
The aged archbishop slightly nodded. “Alright.”
After walking a bit, he furrowed his brow. “No need to worry since the saintly choir’s person is out east… but you should check on the sword demon’s location. I need to know what she’s doing and why she allowed so many to escape. As a Pope Knight, she’s not handling this very well… doesn’t she understand the ramifications?!”
“Understood, Archbishop.”
The young clergy member replied and took his leave. Archbishop Ansiel walked down the mount while glancing at those around him. “Are those two heretics still in town?”
“They have already left.”
“…Headed toward Woodward Forest?”
“Uh…”
The responding cleric hesitated, and after waiting a moment for an answer, Ansiel paused and looked over with a calm gaze, enunciating every word. “If you can’t ascertain that, then send someone to follow them, keep a close watch. Why are you still standing here? Do I need to teach you how to work? Do you not understand the nature of the situation here?!”
“I understand…”
“What do you understand?!”
The elder’s expression grew grave, his tone suddenly harsh. “Because of the incompetence shown by the so-called scholars in the Faith Organization, we could not find a way to open the Land of Dragons. Thus, under duress, we had to rely on those damned heretics to feed that cursed gem and have them open it…”
“Such a pitiful, heartbreaking situation—that led us to slaughter a batch of innocent townsfolk, their bl**d still warm! Do you think anyone wishes to do something so akin to villainy?! Yet it was done! I gave the order! Since you chose to stay here, why act like this without any realization of consequences?!”
