Sorani wandered through the outskirts of the city, amidst a settlement of wanderers. She was wrapped in tattered robes, her steps unsteady, yet her expression was strangely exhilarated.
She gazed joyfully at her pale palm, where the veins and lines intertwined to form the inverted triangle of the Red Chalice's emblem.
This signified that she had been elevated from the ranks of the mere believers and common worshippers... to become an esteemed heretical acolyte.
After receiving the commission from the High Priest Sainth at the Hunger Club, she felt a sense of mission unlike anything she had ever experienced before. The sweetness was almost overwhelming; since her birth, there had never been a moment as joyous as this.
What could be more pleasurable than ascending step by step on the grand staircase built of jagged bones?
To perfect oneself, to enrich one's being, and after this flesh and blood had shed its mundanity and achieved perfection... to dedicate everything to the Supreme Lord, becoming part of His kin in His kingdom.
Just the thought of this made Sorani wildly ecstatic.
"The Festival of the Moon is approaching, and the Hunger Club's ritual array requires more sacrifices... We can finally loosen our grips a bit. I wonder which of the kin will respond to the call of the [Blood Heir] this time?"
She was so lost in her fervent imaginings that she involuntarily fell to her knees, her body trembling uncontrollably. This made her quite conspicuous among the scattered crowd of wanderers.
To an outsider, Lady Sorani appeared to be breaking down in tears or perhaps collapsing from hunger. Yet, no one approached to offer her assistance.
After all, which of these wanderers did not have a tragic past and nowhere else to turn? Anyone with normal working abilities and not under a warrant would never choose to linger in the shadow-infested boundaries of the northern district.
"Hello, madam, are you alright?"
A concerned female voice sounded beside Sorani.
Lost in her ecstatic reverie, Sorani felt someone helping her up and was overwhelmed with even greater joy. A living sacrifice... delivered so easily to her.
Suddenly, Sorani's expression turned peculiar, her fervor freezing in an instant.
The person assisting her had addressed her as "madam"? But she had undergone the [Transfiguration], and her appearance was now that of an ordinary woman in her twenties.
Shouldn't the usual address be "miss" or "lady"? How did this person know she was married?
Sorani's thoughts cooled rapidly, and her gaze fixed intently on the woman holding her forearm.
The woman was dressed in the typical robes of a traveler, her long hair pale with a few braids faintly visible at the temples. Her eyes, clear and flawless like amber, left a deep impression on Sorani.
Dr. Fran!
...But how could this be? How could anyone have found her? The High Priest had clearly inspected her; there should be no trace of any arcane markings left on her body.
She had undergone [Transfiguration] along the way; even a Secret Hunter should have been unable to track her.
"How did you find me? My disguise is flawless... The High Priest meticulously examined every inch of my body; there should be no mark or brand left by a Secret Hunter!"
Fran removed the hood of her travel robe and took a slight step back, maintaining some distance from Sorani.
At this moment, she had shed the physician's coat soaked in a massive amount of blood and donned the standard nun's robe of the Secret Hunter Order.
The purge unit happened to have a funeral attendant whose build was similar to Fran's, so the logistics team had prepared replacement clothing, allowing her to avoid going out in a sticky, messy state. After a quick wash, she had changed into the attire of a Secret Hunter.
Fran was slightly shorter than Lady Sorani, yet for some reason, Sorani could sense from the other's gaze that she was looking down on her with a condescending air.
"First of all, your disguise is not sophisticated in my eyes. [Transfiguration], as the third category of the Scarlet Chalice's arcane arts, is merely basic knowledge, and your modifications to the flesh are too crude. My evaluation remains the same… utterly lacking in aesthetic."
"Secondly, you indeed bear no mark of the Secret Hunter Order, but you do carry my mark."
As Fran spoke, she slightly extended her hand, and one of Sorani's eyeballs crawled out of its socket like a spider, leaping into Fran's palm.
Nerves and flesh formed four pairs of limbs for the eyeball, granting it mobility.
"When it was on your body, it blended seamlessly with your flesh, showing no trace of abnormality. Even the High Priest, without conducting a destructive examination, would have been unable to detect it, let alone… Sains, who, strictly speaking, cannot be considered 'a' High Priest."
Sorani felt as though she had plunged into an icy abyss, her teeth chattering uncontrollably, and an unprecedented coldness permeated every inch of her body.
"You're not a Secret Hunter! No Secret Hunter could surpass us in the mastery of flesh… What… what are you?"
Her vision was now split in two—one side fixed on Fran, while the other… gazed back at herself from Fran's hand!
Sorani slowly and dazedly reached up to touch her neck. Though there was nothing there, she could almost see the scythe of death hanging in the air, ready to sever her head at any moment.
"Madam, courtesy is your greatest virtue, and I hope you maintain it. What do you mean by 'what are you'?"
Fran's brow lifted slightly, as if mildly displeased.
"I am Dr. Fran Herschel from the Fog Street Clinic in District 13, North Sector. Currently, I am also employed as a coroner for the Secret Hunter Order."
Sorani took a step back, stopping only when the back of her head met something cold and hard.
It was Haida's gun barrel, its chilling aura of death silently spreading.
Her body stiffened, and with a sense of helplessness, she turned her gaze back to Fran, who was approaching slowly with her hands clasped behind her back.
"Hound of the Secret Hunters, since you can speak High Priest Sains' name, it means you've already been to the Glutton's Club? Mr. Sains, she…"
"Saience. You mean her, right? She's dead."
Fran took out a few strands of soft silk from the storage bag of her nun's habit and gently moved them between her fingers. They were the ribbons that had swirled around Saience as she danced.
Sorani's face was filled with a look of shocked disbelief, but soon her nearly broken expression steadied a little. It seemed she had found something to convince herself with.
"High Priestess... No, these are just her clothes. You're trying to deceive me! Yes, the High Priestess must have escaped the siege."
Vivian, standing beside Haida, made a barely noticeable retching sound. She was reminded of Saience's skeleton-like body, the neatly arranged internal organs, and the tree-like veins that had been stripped away...
Although the members of the Secretariat were often exposed to such bloody scenes beyond the tolerance of ordinary people, witnessing Fran's live dissection in person was still too horrifying.
"If thinking like this makes you feel better, then please hold onto your guess firmly."
Fran was clearly used to such self-deception. She took out a quartz syringe with a needle from the medicine box and came to stand in front of Sorani.
Her movements were extremely quick, a fleeting shadow passed by, and the potion had already pierced Solani's skin at her neck.
"What did you do to me? Don't come near me!"
Solani covered her neck and staggered away in the opposite direction.
"Professor, should we intervene?" Childe, hidden among the wanderers, asked Terrence beside him.
"There's no need. Even the High Priest couldn't escape; a newly promoted assistant priest has even less chance of fleeing. Although that High Priest could not act at the time due to your [Excess Knowledge Invasion]... Sister Haida's strength is beyond doubt."
Terrence shot him a glance, stopping his rather reckless assistant.
Originally, the White Cup Society's assistance was supposed to end after the Hunger Club was cleared out, but out of curiosity about Dr. Fran, he chose to follow the others in the hunt for Solani.
Fran's gruesome dissection forced Childe to find a secluded spot afterward, where he retched for a full five minutes... He was fortunate he hadn't had breakfast.
However, in Terrence's eyes, this dissection held a strange beauty. That doctor was so familiar with the human body that every cut was like a master artist's stroke on canvas, simply magnificent.
When Terrence was young, he served briefly as a field doctor, acquiring some clinical medical skills.
It was for this reason that he could vaguely perceive the vast chasm in skill and theory between the two sides.
...
Solani's pace of escape grew slower and slower, until she soon fell to her knees, clutching her chest and curling into a ball.
"What blasphemy!... Doctors, such a lowly profession, how dare you presume to meddle with the supreme art bestowed by my Lord?"
She seemed to feel cold, shivering uncontrollably. Gritting her teeth, she glared at Fran as if she wanted to devour her alive.
"Once I am fully dissolved into the Lord's cup, I will summon endless curses to haunt you..."
Fran, holding the black hem of her hunter-nun robe, stood gracefully to the side, observing Solani.
"If curses devoid of mystical power could truly work, the world would not be as it is now. Look at you—a heretic like you is the only one in your family to survive this long. That alone proves that 'retribution' is nothing but self-deception."
Fran was waiting for the drug to take full effect.
In the next moment, Solani felt her vision grow damp, as tears uncontrollably welled up in her eyes.
Am I… crying?
The fervent excitement was gone, and the overheated thoughts in her mind were cooled by an irresistible external force.
Moreover, an unfamiliar sensation enveloped her, something she had never felt before…
It was an overwhelming, suffocating grief.
She began to wail in agony, realizing she would never see her husband Logan again, never touch her beloved son Feyce, and that all of this was the result of her own sins… She fell into near despair and began to repent.
"They were offerings to my Lord, their deaths were justified!... No, but Feyce, oh, my child… what have I done?"
The effects of the [Transfiguration] on Solani's face had vanished, restoring her original appearance. Even her ability to speak seemed impaired, as if two consciousnesses were tearing at each other in her mind.
"I created a fabricated personality and implanted it into your mind through a specialized concoction."
"A fabricated personality? But, oh..."
She was nearly sobbing too hard to speak, the unspoken words being, "But why does my sorrow feel so real?"
"She was the gentle and loving mother in Feyce's eyes, the considerate and strong wife in Logan's eyes, the elegant noblewoman known to others, and a devout follower of the White Chalice. Her longing and attachment to life far surpassed yours, now stripped of fanaticism."
"Soon, you will be completely consumed."
The smile on Fran's lips had faded. At this moment, she felt neither sorrow nor joy, merely observing everything with the detached gaze of a bystander.
This was the first time Haida had seen her wear such an expression. She resembled an iron statue, devoid of any emotion.
Solani's wails gradually ceased, replaced by mournful, low sobs.
"Were all those foolish deeds I committed merely in pursuit of an elusive god? No, I am a sinner through and through..."
She crawled on the ground, almost like a beast, until she reached Fran, stretching out her hand to grasp Fran's slender ankle, clad in pure black stockings.
Solani looked up, her tear-filled eyes pleading.
"Doctor Fran, I won't accept my despicable confession. Please end my suffering. Bury the traces of the other me along with me in this body and end this sin with my insignificant life..."
Fran nodded slightly.
"As you wish."
"Bang!"
The sharp sound of the gun rang out. A wisp of grayish-white smoke drifted from Haida's gun barrel.
A precise black bullet hole appeared in Solanee's heart. Her raised head drooped softly.
Under the effect of the prayer inscribed on the bullet by the Secret Hunter, her body began to wither and decay rapidly, losing its vitality in an instant.
[Solanee Lois's madness has been cured. The regular medical treatment task for this month has been completed. Completion degree: A.
Your next monthly visit will be triggered randomly next month.] ]
The consultation fee for this visit: Unknown biological technology raw material x1 (common quality. Undetermined) ——
"Is this really okay? Replacing the original personality with a virtual one might be putting an innocent person in the body of a guilty one."
Haida, with her talent for profiling, naturally understood Soranee's current state better. Although she knew it was a bit inappropriate, she still asked Fran.
"Good question, Sister Haida. It seems you have some knowledge in this area."
Fran's expression had returned to its usual gentle and kind demeanor.
"So I was deceiving her. I merely suppressed her religious fanaticism and strengthened her memories of her family. That wasn't a virtual personality I fabricated, but rather the other 'her' who had been dormant for a long time."
"Honesty is not necessarily a doctor's essential quality; she doesn't mind occasionally offering a 'white lie.'
'Even if the mask of a fabricated psyche has been removed, it may still take root in the subconscious of the 'self.' All I did was awaken it and imbue it with vibrant humanity.'
'In truth, it was Solani herself who killed Solani.'
Haida pondered for a moment, then finally nodded in understanding.
'I see.'
Fran clearly appreciated Haida's quick comprehension. She clasped her hands slightly and leaned in closer to Haida with a hint of familiarity.
'I suppose your Hunter-Seeker Order isn't the type to host celebratory banquets. And since our contractual relationship has concluded… may I ask if the payment will be in cash or a promissory note?'
Haida narrowed her gray-hazel eyes, slightly overwhelmed by Fran's sudden shift in demeanor.
'A promissory note.'
She responded."