Thump, thump, thump!
Heavy footsteps echoed behind him. Galad had just tried to dodge to the side when a huge force slammed into his back. His body lurched forward uncontrollably, crashing hard into the wall.
Bang!
The impact left him gasping, pain flooding his chest. He rolled onto the floor, struggling to breathe, finally managing to draw in air after a few agonizing seconds.
The candelabra was no longer in his hand. Groaning, Galad forced himself upright, his vision swimming. Siris was standing where he had been a moment ago. The old man had gotten back up—his strength terrifying despite his frail appearance.
Galad's heart sank. He hadn't expected that after being struck so many times, the lunatic could still fight like this.
I should have stabbed him when I had the chance!
"Get up, Galad! He's coming!" Cecilia's urgent voice cut through the haze.
Siris Arpels staggered toward him. In the faint candlelight, his figure seemed grotesque, blood dripping from his forehead. Without a word, he stretched out his hands—straight for Galad's throat.
Instinct took over. Galad leapt to his feet, raising an arm to block.
Their skin touched.
Sizzle!
A burning sting shot through Galad's body like lightning, stabbing straight into his mind.
"Ahhh!"
He screamed, clutching his head. The pain was unbearable, like an axe splitting his skull in two. He collapsed to his knees, vision swimming.
But instead of attacking further, Siris froze. His expression twisted into something bizarre—half agony, half ecstasy. Tears welled in his eyes.
"My Lord… Is that you? I can feel Your presence…"
His gray-blue eyes shone with fanatical light as he mumbled and staggered forward, trembling in ecstasy.
Galad, however, could no longer hear his voice. His head was drowning in a tide of gibberish—thousands of overlapping voices speaking, weeping, laughing, and screaming. The incomprehensible chorus clawed at his sanity, digging needles of sound into his brain.
It's that sound… the hallucinations this body suffered since childhood…
Memories and pain collided. Galad held his head, blood roaring in his ears.
Siris's hands reached out again.
Boom!
A deafening roar filled Galad's mind. The world dissolved. Illusion consumed him.
He saw—
A cross.A massive, inverted cross towering into the heavens.
And on it, a colossal giant hung upside down, nailed by iron spikes. Blood poured from his body, his face locked in agony and confusion—as if trapped between death and sleep.
Sacred. Eerie. Terrifying.
The gibberish became chanting, ancient hymns in an unknown tongue:
"…The Lord's will shall be done on earth.He shall dwell among men and bear their sins.His light shall pierce the darkness, and all shall be saved…"
Fanatic voices trembled with both reverence and madness.
Galad didn't know how long it lasted—an instant or eternity. Then, faintly, he heard waves.
Soft. Ethereal. Endless.
The sound of the sea washed over him. The illusions and gibberish ebbed away, leaving him gasping back into reality.
Only to realize—he was being strangled.
"Cough… cough…"
Siris's hands were clamped around his neck. The blood dripping from his forehead had turned pitch black. Worse, his face was warping grotesquely—lumps bulging across his skin, his mouth tearing wider and wider until it split to his ears, rows of sharp teeth glinting.
"My Lord… truly, You are here…" he gurgled, eyes alight with madness.
"Let go of him!" Cecilia's frantic cry rang out as she pounded helplessly against Siris's arm.
Galad's vision blurred, lungs screaming for air. He forced out two rasping words:
"Use… knife…"
Cecilia's eyes widened. She spun, snatched the blood-stained dagger from the floor, and with a cry plunged it deep into Siris's waist.
"Urghhh!"
Siris howled, flinging his arm and hurling Galad across the room.
Bang!
He crashed into a desk, agony exploding across his back.
"Ahhh!"
But before he could recover, Cecilia screamed. Siris had already turned on her, lunging like a beast.
Panic surged. Galad reached for the desk to push himself up—his hand yanked a drawer loose, spilling its contents with a clatter.
Something heavy struck his hand.
Galad looked down.
A revolver gleamed in the candlelight.
He grabbed it, its cold weight heavy in his palm. The intricate steel shone like salvation.
Is this… real?
Cecilia shrieked again. Siris had cornered her.
No time to think. Galad snapped open the cylinder—fully loaded, six rounds.
"Hey! Lunatic!" he shouted, forcing steadiness into his voice. "Your Lord is here—come to me!"
Siris froze, then turned, drawn like a moth to a flame. His mouth split wider, saliva stringing between his teeth.
"Hohoho—"
Damn you!
Galad pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The gunshot shook the room, recoil slamming through his arm. Siris staggered, but instead of falling, he roared and charged again.
Galad fired again. And again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
One shot struck true. A bullet tore into Siris's head, bursting it open with a sickening crack. His body convulsed, then crumpled forward, twitching before going still.
"Huff… huff…"
Panting, Galad lowered the revolver, his arms trembling. Smoke and gunpowder stung his nose.
Across from the corpse, Cecilia stood frozen, shaken but alive.
A bitter smile tugged at Galad's lips.
On my first day after transmigrating… I've already killed a man. What a hell of a beginning.