### Chapter 186: Grayscale (End)
“That’s not any of your faults.”
The sunlight flowed behind the floating clouds, casting a mix of brightness and shadows. Old Ansiel’s sigh hung in the dawn light, and everyone around him appeared eerily quiet.
A shimmering golden bird swooped down from the sky, landing on the shoulder of a nearby cleric. The flapping of its wings was unusually clear, drawing several clerics to gather around.
Old Archbishop noticed and realized some new information was coming, but before he could finish his thought, he waved it off, pointing instead at the bl**d and corpses below the ridge. His voice was low and heavy: “Today, we let those demons run free, enabling them to slaughter God’s people—innocent souls who we even killed with our own hands. The sorrow I felt while giving you this command is something you, who don’t make decisions, cannot comprehend.”
He inhaled deeply: “Those poor townsfolk escaped with a flicker of hope only to d*e here without reason. I feel guilty, heartbroken; I pity them, but I pity you even more.”
“I’m old now, and I don’t have many years left for such things. But you are all still young kids; you shouldn’t bear such a burden—no one should. Yet we’ve reached a point of no return, and there’s no room for luck or choice left. I understand that you feel pain, feel guilt, but it’s not your fault…”
He emphasized “not your fault” once more, then turned to walk back slowly. In the eyes of everyone watching, he balanced unsteadily on the protruding blue rock and pointed at the direction where the flames still flickered faintly, continuing his unfinished words: “It’s those heretics who came and did this.”
He then pointed farther eastward, indicating the distant sea of trees: “That’s Woodward Forest. Soon, it will become the center of chaos, the new birthplace of slaughter and bl**d. Those wicked heretics crossed the sea from the Eastern Continent, stealing the Divine Reliquary that has protected the Royal City for centuries, turning it into a demonic tool that drinks human bl**d and accumulates brutal power, with the ultimate goal…”
Old Archbishop paused, turned back to face the gathered clerics, and continued.
“…is to revive some horrifying demon sealed away in the Land of Dragons during the Divine Era. Then, a greater disaster will strike, plunging all of Silgaya, even the entire Western Continent, into chaos and suffering, allowing them to draw even more malicious power from that very demon.”
“Those heretics are the demon’s minions wreaking havoc on the world. And now, with the demon about to awaken, the heretics will succeed. The Land of Dragons can no longer contain that beast. Once it tears through space to come to this world, the lives of every creature on this planet, our human civilization, prosperous cities, millions of souls, every hill, every grain of earth, our friends, lovers—everything we see now will vanish like smoke in a cataclysm… cough cough.”
Having perhaps spoken too much, Archbishop Ansiel coughed lightly, his complexion suddenly looking off. Someone rushed over with water, which he gratefully took a sip of, moistening his throat.
The wind picked up, making his robe billow like a flag, and the old man’s white hair danced in the breeze. He wanted to step down from the rocky outcrop, and the clerics hurried over to assist, but he waved them off, insisting on wobbling down on his own to rejoin the crowd.
“You must stop the disaster from happening… cough cough…”
The old man cleared his throat twice.
He lifted his head, his gaze deep like a muddy pool with no bottom: “Coming from the Holy City, the most loyal followers of the great Deity, the finest clergy of the Holy Church—all those standing here, as well as those who fell bravely in this war, the Church’s great warriors.”
“Every action you take cannot be judged as right or wrong; there is only one purpose: to stop them, stop the resurrection of the demon, stop it from descending upon this world.”
“What you need to ensure is that the gate to the Land of Dragons opens smoothly, no matter what method is used, be it through the deaths of civilians, yourselves, or even me. Those details don’t matter. What matters is the outcome—whether it is the Church that wins or humanity that perishes in a disaster.”
“What is important is that the Pope’s most powerful young warrior, Pope Knight Silvya, who carries great hope for the Church, can successfully enter the Land of Dragons in time, using her chilling power to finally end the demon, to crush the source of the heretics’ evil power, to let the Sin Fire fade from the world, banishing religious wars forever.”
The old man fixed his deep gaze on each cleric: “You should be proud of yourselves.”
“What you are striving for is the wish humanity has held for centuries—to let the demon’s Fire Seed dissipate, to ensure the evil spirits at the Gate of Truth lose their power forever, to prevent the Sin Fire from harming the world again. For this, you must spare no effort, stake your honor, your lives, bear the pain others cannot bear, endure the inner torment—all this is God’s will; it’s for the prosperity of humanity.”
As he spoke, he walked over to the weeping cleric and gently placed a hand on his short hair.
“Child, you should be proud of yourself, proud of that dear friend who has returned to God. Because you’ve shown through your actions the awakening of your hearts. That is the realization everyone standing here, including me, must come to.”
The cleric had stopped crying, but upon hearing the archbishop’s words, he gazed at the old man’s aged yet kind face and couldn’t help but start choking up again. “Archbishop Ansiel…”
“Don’t be sad, child; the servants of the Deity need no tears.”
“Y-yes…”
“You must gather yourself, my child. Our task is not to face those two heretics directly. We cannot heroically accept d*ath like the warriors of the Southern Lands. We have a much more arduous, much more important task, one we cannot fail. You must always believe that those who have sacrificed or are about to sacrifice—whether civilians or warriors—they are all worthy, all necessary.”
“If not, then after this, there will be many more places like Stag Town, larger cities like Emerald City, Winter City, Order Royal City… countless lives would perish in the future calamities. By that time, we might not even have the chance to become historical sinners.”
The old man looked into the cleric’s eyes and spoke slowly: “Do you understand?”
“I… understand… I get it…”
The cleric took a deep breath, rubbed his red eyes, and suddenly his demeanor grew serious and solemn, straightening up to stand in front of the old man, fist clenched tightly on his chest.
“I’m willing to personally lead a team to scout ahead; I promise not to let you down!”
Old Ansiel nodded with a smile, patting him on the shoulder: “Go, my good child. May you always be under the Deity’s protection.”
He then turned to everyone on the ridge and proclaimed: “Remember, in this operation, we will pay any price, ANY price, to ensure the heretics successfully open the Land of Dragons. No one can act recklessly; no matter how many lives are lost, after this, the Pope will thank you, the Church will thank you, and the great Deity’s people will always remember you.”
As his slow yet powerful words rang out, the clerics tightened their fists, and the lights flashed again in their eyes.
The old archbishop slowly walked down the ridge amidst the crowd. Soon, someone hurriedly approached and whispered a few words in his ear. The old man’s dazed gaze suddenly sharpened, and he nodded seriously: “Tell Anna that at the first sign of movement, she must report immediately. We must settle all matters before she wakes; that gem has absorbed enough bl**d, or else… she will become the biggest obstacle to our plan…”
“Yes.”
The cleric replied softly, then asked, “What about Woodward Forest…”
Before he could finish, the old man quickly waved his hand, cutting him off.
“I think the First Knights Order stationed there has already made their resolution and that there’s no need to mention it again. Also, until I give my order, no one is allowed to go there.”
…………
Border of Woodward Forest.
The high lookout tower expanded along the forest’s edge, golden-armored knights gathering into a flood beneath the tower, blades clashing, fires igniting, shouts rolling like waves. Horned Horses beneath them snorted fiercely, and the warriors of the First Knights Order stood impressively, ready for action, as the radiance of miracles spread through their formation.
And facing that formation was merely two figures standing on higher ground a hundred meters away.
A stunning dancer in a red dress with a beautiful face.
An old, hunched man.
The wind roared across the grassland, blowing the smoke to higher skies, the green fields stretched endlessly, and sunlight broke through the clouds, falling between the foothills and dispelling the shadows.
Old servant Sebastian stood next to the red dancer, gazing at the military formation ahead, the battle flag fluttering in the wind. His gaze soon crossed that flag, looking toward the lush forest in the background, rippling like waves.
After a moment, he murmured, “This is the final step.”
“…Yes.”
“Miss, what are your thoughts?”
“……”
After waiting for a while, the dancer didn’t respond, so he continued: “The people of Stag Town, the refugees from the Southern Lands, plus the knights stationed here, total barely five thousand. To open the Land of Dragons, the bl**d of these people… won’t be enough to unleash power.”
The old servant smiled as he spoke: “If the jester were here, he’d definitely find ways to k*ll more people… Woodward Forest is rich in resources, and there are several villages surrounding it; if we pooled their lives together, that should be sufficient… Miss, you don’t want to k*ll those people because your heart is starting to waver, right?”
“……”
Yet the dancer remained silent.
Her silver hair danced in the wind, warm sunlight showered down on her icy façade. Her gem-like blue eyes gradually reflected the color of bl**d.
The old servant watched her expression, his smile growing warmer: “Miss, I know what you’re thinking. Since the day your father saved my life, I’ve followed him, witnessing what he has done, and gradually realized that this world is not as beautiful as imagined. Unfortunately… I’ve been with him for so many years and learned only this skill; ultimately, I haven’t learned anything else. Miss, I know I am nowhere near as good as you.”
He sighed and shook his head: “Perhaps deep down, I’m still that timid, cowardly cook from years ago. Up until last night, I had never killed anyone; I would only run away in emergencies. Yet despite that, your father still stayed, keeping me by your side. I have no relatives and have watched you grow up… in my heart… I’ve long regarded you as my granddaughter.”
Buzz buzz buzz—
A hundred meters away, the hum of miracles made the air tremble as the knights completed their formation. The horned horses stomped, shaking the ground, their charge seeming to come crashing down.
“I understand your plan, even if you won’t tell me.”
Facing the army unafraid, the hunched old servant maintained his smile: “Miss, you intend to use your bl**d to feed that gem, don’t you…?”
“To save the souls of this world, to save those who see you as a demon… I know you won’t waver in your thoughts, but I still want to ask: after all these years of bearing such pressure, is it worth it?”
“…There’s nothing to consider worth or not worth.”
The dancer finally spoke: “That was my father’s wish, and I must fulfill it.”
“Is that so…”
The old servant sighed: “Getting this far is something your father never accomplished. Miss, you truly are amazing…”
“The Judgment Fist stands ready—”
A voice like thunder rang out a hundred meters away: “Slay the demon! Charge with me!!!”
“Ahhhhhhh—”
Boom boom boom boom…
The floodgates burst, rushing forth like an avalanche, the wind howled in the sky, the sounds of battle roared like a sea. The shooting Holy Lances glinted like rain, dense attacks raining down from the sky, and the old servant stepped forward first, blades clashing, taking up his weapon firmly.
“Since that’s the case, then let this old servant clear the final path for you…”
Before long, the stench of bl**d and the atmosphere of slaughter spread.
…………
The autumn light rose and fell.
The smoke spreading from the border of Woodward Forest never ceased since that night; the glow of battle, the tremors, and the cries gradually calmed at some point.
Perhaps more lives had perished, and Stag Town’s flames were extinguished.
The collapsed church, bell tower, charred structures reduced to mere skeletons, the muddy ground, the shattered bluestone roads, the central square in utter disarray, with bodies lying on the ground—exsanguinated, transforming what was once a bustling small town into a desolate isolation.
On the eastern hillside, the stream trickled, and the lake beneath the waterfall was nearly dried up; it had become a pit, with only a shallow puddle left, slowly steaming with black mist.
Above the water’s surface, a black sphere of chaotic power floated, with dead smoke writhing like snakes on its surface, producing an eerie hum.
The daylight darkened, then shimmered bright white.
At a certain moment, the girl sleeping inside the sphere abruptly opened her eyes.
