Word of Warning:
This chapter got pretty damn graphic. So if you don't like really gory stuff... uh, don't read? Idk, keep a bucket nearby or something.
Click
—
My boots hit the ground with a crunch as I fell from a sheer cliff face. I landed on my feet completely unbothered as though I hadn't just dropped from a height that would shatter every bone in a normal person's body.
Adjusting the hood of my cloak over my head, I looked to the skies and saw that with the sun rapidly falling, I would have to move by the light of the full moon within the next couple hours.
Before I could continue forward, a rustle from the bush to my right made me pause. Drawing my sword, I shifted into a half-stance, mana for body enhancement spinning through me.
With a single bark as the only announcement of its intentions, a shadow leapt from the bush.
What looked like a Doberman dog, but twice as large, leapt for my throat with surprising agility, but the mana pulsing through my body made the dog feel slow. Quickly slipping to the side, my short sword lashed out, cleaving a bloody gash along its flank.
The beast let out a yelp as it tumbled to the ground, thick, dark-black blood oozing from its side, splattering onto the grass. With determination burning in its eyes, it began to heave itself up. It may have been injured, but surely it could get a bite of the tasty-smelling—
My blade fell in an arc, decapitating its head with a single stroke, a swift end to any further ambitions.
With a sharp flick, I sent droplets of blood arcing through the air before wiping the steel clean on coarse fur still warm from fading life. The coppery stench clung to my nostrils as I continued deeper into the woods, not bothering to sheathe the sword again.
Like this, I cut through about fifteen more dogs, a rather monotonous selection after a certain point, and the novelty had long worn off.
—
Click
Side-stepping a pair of claws that whistled past my ear, I leaned back just far enough to avoid a set of jaws that thought my leg looked appetizing, shifting my feet to brace myself, I angled my blade preemptively.
I caught the third lunging mabeast in the throat, feeling the brief resistance of bone before my weapon punched through. The beast impaled itself with such force that the cross guard pressed against mangled flesh.
It convulsed around the blade, black froth bubbling from its muzzle as it drowned from within. Each dying spasm sent fresh rivulets cascading from the plugged wound, the beast's eyes rolling back to show bloodshot whites before going glassy.
Letting go of the sword due to a lack of time, I embraced the dance with my final two opponents. Drawing the dagger from my hip, we circled each other through the carnage.
I froze for just a second. What to the beasts was a sign of weakness was, in reality, just a reconfirmation of their deaths.
Both dogs lunged, each competing with the other to be the first to get a chunk of my flesh, but sadly, I didn't feel very generous today, and instead, I gifted each drooling mouth something else.
A thin spear of ice for each mouth was my present.
Each punching through their respective skulls with the wet crunch of shattering bone. Gray matter and inky fluid erupted from the exit wounds before the mabeasts collapsed in twitching heaps.
Dark blood seeped into the earth, saliva still frothed at their slack jaws, mixing with the spreading pools.
Resheathing my unused knife and retrieving my sword from the corpse, tugging it free with a wet sucking sound, I once more wiped the blade clean. But I paused when I felt a familiar tingle roll down the base of my neck.
I knew what this meant. The sixth sense. The Gospel informed me it had been updated.
'About damn time, you useless thing.'
Moving up next to a tree that was devoid of any vegetation around it, and double-checking that the perimeter was clear, I leaned up against the aged wood and pulled the Gospel from within the folds of my cloak.
"Pride, finally seeking those who would aid him in his goals, will head for the tallest mountain that is currently within his view."
...
'What? Seriously? That's it?'
I stared down at the book incredulously. Even gave it a little shake and a smack just to see if it needed some physical motivation, but nothing else was written.
I looked up from my Gospel. The very first thing my eyes landed on was a giant cliff face not too far off in the distance.
Nothing else was being written in the book, and so I shoved it back in my cloak.
With my internal grumbles, I made my way forward. The light of the sun grew dimmer by the minute, casting long shadows that stretched into eerie shapes.
Pushing past a bush, I found what looked like the opening to a natural cave.
'Man… generic villain hiding place too, huh?'
I pushed onward to the gaping maw of darkness; no torches were present, and Reason and Judgment found no noticeable footsteps in the dried dirt that crunched underfoot.
'This fucking sucks. If they try and jump me in here, I'm using Indomitable and tearing the entire cave down with me.'
With that internal declaration of mutually assured destruction, I sighed and stepped into the cave.
Pulling out all the stops, I lifted my left palm, a modified Yang spell coming to life.
'Flare.'
A floating orb of brilliant white light was birthed into existence and quickly floated up above my head and began to trail me, my own personal halo.
With light illuminating my path, I made my way into a central chamber inside the cave. The dripping drops of water from stalactites on the ceiling, and the quiet breathing coming from me were the only sounds present in the cavernous room.
'If this is where I'm supposed to find my loyal men and women, I must say that I'm terribly disappointed. 0/10 on the room service so far.'
Click
Reason and Judgment
Time snapped to a hold.
Silence reigned supreme over my domain.
'They do not show themselves to us. Why? The Gospel claimed they would be here.'
'We were fools to even consider dealing with that thing—'
'No. It was necessary. If these cultists truly are a threat to the surrounding area, and they wreak havoc in our absence, that would fall on our shoulders.'
I wouldn't let the surrounding village be burned to the ground just because I was "scared" of a book.
It would be pathetic.
'Show some initiative. A little performance. We are their superior. Act like it.'
Time slipped from my grasp.
My body quickly followed suit in obeying the confidence of my Authority. Back straightened. Head held high. The appearance and demeanor of royalty.
"You will kneel before your rightful lord," I said to the surrounding darkness.
A statement that normally would have made me fall to my knees and hide my face out of sheer embarrassment, instead felt natural.
But when my haughty command was met with silence, even the me fueled by the overblown confidence of my Authority, nearly winced.
"…"
Just before I considered using a show of force with Indomitable, a creeping darkness finally responded. The shadows cast by Flare grew longer, and a gentle breeze blew into the cave.
There was a chill that infused itself into the very air.
My eyelids fell shut. When they lifted again, I was met with a group that hadn't been previously present.
Bodies materialized from shadow. Twenty souls knelt in perfect formation.
Each dressed in jet-black clerical robes, sharp triangular hoods over their heads with red marks where the eyes would be, white gloves over hands, each possessed an identical coat of arms that hung from their necks, crossed swords.
Not a single defining feature on any of them. All identical. All bowed and subservient.
A shiver rolled down my spine as I stared at the silent shadows. They didn't move a single muscle, didn't shift even slightly despite the uncomfortable stone beneath their knees. Their breathing was utterly silent.
Click
Reason and Judgment
Time shattered into perfect, frozen clarity. Confidence flooded through my veins, washing away doubt and uncertainty until only pure, unassailable truth remained.
'We must ascertain their purpose. Question them. Get an understanding of how pliable they are to our commands.'
I stepped from the frozen moment, the artificial confidence making each step feel like a king claiming his rightful throne. My posture straightened naturally, shoulders pulling back as my Authority assured me that I was simply superior to these kneeling wretches.
Approaching one of the cultists with leisurely grace, I let my hand fall upon their shoulder.
"Rise, believer."
It obeyed.
"Why are you here?" The question rolled from my lips with the weight of someone who had never doubted they deserved answers.
"To assist you," came the dull, monotonous response from behind the crimson-eyed mask. I couldn't discern gender through the thick robes and modulated voice, not that it particularly mattered. Tools rarely required such specificity.
"Is that so?" I tilted my head with interest, a smile playing at my lips as I leaned closer.
"And who am I?" I murmured in his ear.
"You are Pride," the cultist intoned with religious reverence, stepping back to bow deeper than before. "The Sin Archbishop of Pride, Ethan Caldwell."
Click
Reason and Judgment
I pulled the world back into perfect stillness, my mind racing through the implications.
'We did not agree to this position. We have not had a meeting with any cultists beyond Lucan, whose only goal seemed to be providing us with the Gospel. Was that it? Mere possession of the book warranted a role within their pathetic hierarchy?'
'Speculation is beneath us. Press him for concrete information. Are they merely here to grovel at our feet? Unlikely.'
Time resumed its forward march, and I allowed a sharper edge to creep into my voice.
"Why were you in the area? Did you have previous directives?"
"We had prior instruction," the cultist replied with that same mechanical tone. "The Gospel told us to find you. With your aid, we will assault the Roswaal Manor."
'What.'
I clapped my hands together in dramatic delight, though my gaze now burned into the thing before me. "Oh my! I wasn't aware that was the plan! My Gospel didn't inform me of this new development... how odd."
The cultist remained silent in the face of my performance.
Click
Reason and Judgment
The world froze again, and my thoughts exploded outward with perfect, righteous fury.
'This is unacceptable. Assault the manor? What do these insects seek to gain through such crude action? Subaru? Because he truly is the Witch's favored plaything? Emilia? Because she bears such shocking resemblance to their precious Witch?'
'This cannot be allowed.'
Time slipped forward, and I leaned closer to the cultist. They would either accept my magnanimous offer to redirect such tasteless efforts, or…
"Well... this goes against my desired future, I'm afraid." I ran a hand down my face with theatrical exasperation. "You must understand, I'm quite the pacifist by nature. Spilling blood is just so... crude. Do you comprehend what I mean?"
The cultist remained silent, and I allowed myself a long, disappointed sigh
"What I'm trying to convey is... I don't believe I can aid you in your quest." I waved my hand with dismissive elegance. "How about a different mission? Something more... fitting for one of my particular talents?"
The cultist stiffened even further, if that was possible.
"I must insist. The Gospel commanded that we were to be the first chosen to initiate Pride. With your aid, we must destroy the Manor, retrieve the half-elf, then report to the Sin Archbishop of Sloth."
'Sloth?' The revelation sparked through in my mind. "Oh? My fellow Archbishop is involved in this little scheme? Was he the one who ordered you to take action?"
"No, lord Archbishop. We were a detachment kept in reserve near the capital. The Sin Archbishop of Sloth is preoccupied with important matters near the borders of Vollachia."
'Is that so?'
"Wait, so he's unaware that you lot have been sent on such an important task?" I questioned while folding my hands behind my back.
"Yes, lord Archbishop. The Gospel ordered us to proceed without delay."
The smile that spread across my face was wide, showing every tooth. It felt like there was elation blooming in my chest. I almost wanted to laugh at the beautiful irony of it all.
'They've isolated themselves. Cut themselves off from any figure who might actually possess competence. They've handed me the perfect justification for what must be done.'
"In your haste, you were truly slothful," I purred, letting each word drip with condescending amusement. "Did your pride make you think that you could come before one such as I, and ply me for mine aid?"
The cultist's posture shifted almost imperceptibly, the first crack in their mechanical composure. "... Forgive me, lord Archbishop. I did not mean to offend you. The Gospel simply commanded—"
That word. That single, presumptuous syllable. The implication that some book could command me.
"Ah, ah, ah!" I cut him off with the sharp precision of a conductor stopping a discordant note. My smile grew thinner as righteous indignation blazed from my Authority. "I don't follow the commands of anybody. Much less a mere book."
I didn't wait to see his reaction.
Click
Reason and Judgment
My Authority gripped time in place while I continued to stare at the cultist before me.
'Commands. Orders. Sloth is unaware. They are isolated. They would prioritize the word of their pathetic Gospel over us.'
I replayed the conversation with perfect mental fidelity, analyzing every inflection, every pause, every tell that might reveal additional intelligence.
'They must destroy the manor. They want Emilia. They would take her to the Sin Archbishop of Sloth... Sloth. They keep mentioning Sloth as if he matters.'
A revelation struck me with the force of lightning, so obvious that I wondered how I hadn't seen it immediately.
'These are not my followers. They came here for me, yes, but only for my assistance. They did not come here to be loyal to my every whim; they came here to achieve their mission and report to Sloth.'
The understanding assembled with perfect, terrible clarity. 'They see me as a tool. A weapon to be pointed in the direction their Gospel commands, nothing more.'
My thoughts grew colder, sharper, more beautiful in their absolute certainty.
'Then they are useless to us. Worse than useless, they are a threat. A threat to our principles, to Emilia's safety, and to the surrounding territory.'
'So, how do we convince them to leave—'
The thought died stillborn as a better, more elegant solution presented itself.
'Kill them. It is as beautifully simple as that. They serve no purpose beyond annoying us with their presumptions. They will not aid us. They seek to use us. And if we convince them to leave, they will either ignore our commands out of slavish devotion to their book or report our lack of cooperation to the wider cult. Neither outcome can be allowed.'
With time resuming its forward flow, I could finally witness his reaction to my casual blasphemy against their precious Gospel.
The cultist's head snapped up from his submissive bow. Through the red spots of his mask, I could almost imagine his disbelieving eyes.
"Wha—"
The word died in his throat as I flicked my finger.
BOOM
The sound exploded through the cavern, a thunderclap that would have burst my eardrums if I weren't so obviously above such mortal limitations.
The cultist's body detonated. One moment he was there, and the next he was a crimson cloud expanding outward in all directions.
The wet chunks that had been his torso struck his companions, and suddenly the remaining cultists weren't just staring in shock; they were screaming.
Bone fragments, sharp as shrapnel, tore through their robes. A shard of skull embedded itself in one cultist's throat, spinning him around in a grotesque pirouette as he desperately clutched his ruined windpipe before collapsing.
Click
I didn't give them time to process the rapidly compounding events. My foot connected with the cave floor, and the ancient stone shrieked as it shattered.
Thousands of rock fragments launched like bullets from a machine gun, each one no bigger than a marble but moving fast enough to punch through the mountain itself.
The sound was deafening, an instantaneous crack, as every fragment was propelled forward at the speed of light. Past the kick, they would never see it coming.
The cultists jerked and spasmed as the projectiles found their marks, dark fabric tearing, bodies blasted apart by the impact. Blood misted the air, catching the light of Flare in ruby droplets.
Click
'Scratch fourteen off the list.'
I cut Indomitable, drew my dagger, and prepared to engage the last five remaining cultists.
"Traitor!" One of the five survivors found his voice, the word cracking with hysteria and rage.
But how could I betray something I was never part of? The thought almost made me laugh, but I was too busy analyzing their desperate offensive.
Two cultists moved with practiced synchronization, their cross-guard daggers sent flying with such force that they flew in straight trajectories through the air toward my chest.
A third raised his hands, and I watched with a smile as the orange flame coalesced between his palms.
The last two were still chanting, their voices weaving together as ice crystals began forming in the air around them, eight spears each, sixteen total, all aimed at various parts of my anatomy.
Click
'Well, isn't this quite the spectacle?' The thought drifted through my mind with detached amusement.
I killed my Flare.
Darkness swallowed the cave whole.
The daggers hit stone somewhere behind where I'd been standing. The fireball followed a heartbeat later, painting the cave walls in brief, brilliant orange before fading back to black. In that split second of illumination, shadows danced across the rough stone.
But if any of them had been paying attention during that momentary flare of light, they would have seen me materializing behind their furthest companion.
Click
My dagger found the soft spot just below his ear, sliding between vertebrae. The blade was sharp enough that he probably didn't even feel it at first, just a cold kiss of steel against his throat.
The cartilage and muscle parted with a wet crunch, and suddenly he understood exactly what was happening to him.
The gurgling started immediately, a horrible, bubbling sound as his life leaked out between his fingers. He tried to scream, but all that came out was more of that thick, choking wetness.
I carved backward, opening him up like a letter, and his blood erupted. The arterial spray rained down in heavy drops that echoed through the darkness.
Click
'Oh my. A miscalculation, it seems.''
The Huma ice-spells that had been held in reserve suddenly shot in my direction.
I held my new friend up, letting his body be my shield; by the end, he looked like a porcupine, but it had certainly accelerated his death. May his soul find more peace than his death.
Click
I tossed the riddled corpse aside, it hit the stone with a slap. My left hand was already rising, mana coiled and ready from my brief moment of cover, the familiar tingle of power dancing across my fingertips.
"El Goa."
Fire erupted from my palm in a torrential stream of orange and white fury. The cave exploded into light, shadows dancing wildly across the walls as the flames painted everything in hellish hues. The heat washed over my face, like standing too close to a forge.
Click
The screaming started immediately, high, inhuman shrieks that echoed off the stone until the cave rang.
Two cultists flailed and spun in their death dance, their robes melting into their skin as they transformed from human beings to living torches.
They stumbled blindly, leaving trails of fire across the cave floor before finally tripping over their own limbs, hitting the ground with crackling thuds.
They began to roll in desperation, the magical flames continuing unabated. By this point, they couldn't even scream; their throats had inhaled the inferno, painfully silencing them.
They truly were simple torches after that. Their bodies continued to burn with a greedy crackling, fat rendering, and cloth smoldering, casting dancing light across the dim cavern.
I stared emotionlessly at the twin bonfires before slowly turning my gaze to the last two enemies.
They tensed, pulling daggers in preparation of my potential charge, but I made no moves yet. I had this… urge.
The thrum of my Authority carrying forth the idea that I should convey my thoughts to these fellows. Perhaps I might enlighten them through speech.
Click
"You know, I thought you zealots were supposed to be loyal to me." My voice carried through the air with the patience of a monk. "If I killed one of you, then you should have just accepted that."
The two remaining cultists remained frozen, their breathing silent and masked by the crackling of their burning comrades.
"Instead, you all threw a hissy fit just because I killed a couple of you." I gestured with my bloodied dagger toward the small mountain of bloody corpses I'd left in my wake.
"This is your fault. If you had simply obeyed, then none of this would have happened."
I shook my head at them. Plain disappointment etched into my features.
"But it is fine. You will face my judgment. As the others have before you. Worry not, I am nothing if not a calm and logical individual. Your judgment will be fair."
I began walking towards them. Each step of my boots, a statement of its own.
"Bend the knee," I commanded with regal authority, my voice echoing with the weight of absolute power. "Accept your judgment with dignity, and I will make this mercifully quick."
The two cultists stood stock still before glancing at each other. I could hear their hearts racing in their chests, I could smell the fear… or maybe that was just the bonfire their friends had become.
I continued my approach, watching with detached amusement as they began to tremble like leaves before a hurricane, wondering whether they would finally do something interesting.
Ten more feet. Nine. Eight.
Then they ran.
"What… I thought we were going to fight?" I muttered to my empty audience.
Click
With a mildly annoyed frown, I lazily bent down and selected a fist-sized chunk of limestone from the cave floor. The stone felt solid and cool against my palm, deceptively innocent for what it was about to become.
Indomitable
I threw it.
The rock disintegrated before it left my grip, transformed into a cloud of deadly shrapnel that screamed through the air. The projectiles caught the fleeing cultists just as they neared the exit of the cave, their bodies jerking and convulsing as dozens of stone fragments tore through flesh and bone.
They jolted once, twice, a final spasm of dying nerves, before crumpling to the ground in wet heaps that would never move again.
Silence fell over the cave, save for my soft breathing and the occasional crackle of my two torches.
With no more threats in sight, I began flicking the blood off my dagger with detached ease, moving over to wipe the remaining gore off on the robes of one of the corpses; the fabric was already ruined anyway.
Casting another Flare, I let the clean white light wash over the cavern, driving back the shadows and revealing the full scope of my handiwork as I sheathed my blade.
As was logical. As was expected. We were the victor of this rather tasteless event.
We had won.
…Click?
I had… won?
I had just killed twenty people.
…I had just killed people.
The unwavering confidence of my Authority chose that precise moment to abandon me, draining away like water through a broken dam.
I had been spamming Reason and Judgment throughout the fight, the desperate need for survival granting me the cold detachment necessary to do what needed doing.
Reason and Judgment felt intoxicating while it lasted. It made everything feel... beneath me.
Why consider the weight of crushing a bug beneath your boot? The growing arrogance, the absolute belief in that frozen moment that you were all that mattered in the universe.
And then the cloak of superiority that clung to you after, warm and comforting in its certainty.
But now it was gone.
And suddenly I realized, truly realized, what I had just done.
The smell hit my nose like a physical blow. The cloying, sweet-sick scent of burning human flesh, fat rendering and hair singeing. I could still hear the fire crackling hungrily from the two corpses I'd transformed into human torches.
My eyes locked with the charring remains of the two cultists I had literally burned to death. What had once been human faces were now blackened ruins, lips pulled back in rictus grins that showed too many teeth. One of them still had his eyes, clouded white now, staring at nothing.
"Oh god!" The scream tore itself from my throat.
Stumbling backward in horror, my boots slipping on blood-slick stone, I ran.
I ran like the coward I was.
Sprinting toward the cave mouth, I made it perhaps twenty feet before my knees buckled. The strength fled from my legs, stolen by wave after wave of revulsion that crashed over me like a tide.
My hands hit the ground with a wet slap, palms sliding across something warm and viscous that my mind refused to identify. I didn't need to look to know what it was.
I didn't even get the luxury of conscious thought.
My body lurched forward with violent purpose.
And I puked.
A burning torrent of bile and half-digested stew exploded from my throat, hot and vile, flooding my mouth with the acrid cocktail of stomach acid and copper.
Tears poured from my eyes as the smell hit me, sharp, sour, rotten, coating my tongue like liquid rust and making me gag even harder.
My abdomen clenched like a fist, sending another wave of vomit shooting through my clenched teeth to splatter against the stone floor with wet splashes that echoed obscenely in the sudden quiet.
Into the blood.
Into him.
One of the cultists who had tried to flee lay sprawled beside me, his chest cavity caved inward like a crushed eggshell.
His ribs had split open in a grotesque flower of bone and gristle, organs glistening wet and purple against the harsh light of my Flare.
Something that might have been a lung had torn free entirely, lying beside him like a discarded balloon.
I turned my head desperately to the side, seeking any view that didn't include viscera, only to find the second body.
The soulless red eyes of his mask stared into mine with the accusation of the dead, but part of the mask had been torn, revealing what lay beneath.
His jaw hung open at an impossible angle, half the teeth scattered like bloody pearls across the stone.
His throat had been torn out completely, leaving a ragged cavity that disappeared into darkness. Blood had pooled in the hollow of his collarbone, thick and black in the magical light.
I gagged for a third time, my body convulsing with dry heaves. Nothing left to give except saliva and despair. I choked and spat, desperate to clear the taste of copper and bile from my mouth, but it clung to my tongue like a curse.
'I need to get out of here.'
The thought whispered through my fractured mind. Crawling through the filth, through blood and vomit and worse things, I finally dragged myself out of that cave and into the night.
—
Wandering into the open clearing before the cave, I found myself beneath the pale light of the moon. I took deep gasps of air, but the stench wouldn't leave my mouth.
In desperation, I tried something.
"Huma!" The word cracked from my abused throat as I formed a large chunk of ice that materialized in the air
Lifting my trembling left palm above the frozen sphere, I cast a chantless Goa. Heat bloomed from my skin, and the ice began to weep clear tears.
The cold clean water drizzled into my mouth. I spat, repeated the process, gargled until my jaw ached. The shard of ice disappeared drop by drop, so I created another. And another. And another—
But no matter how much water I used, the taste wouldn't leave. The smell wouldn't fade.
"FUCK!" The word exploded from me, a primal scream directed at the uncaring stars.
My hands were coated in blood. I felt sick in ways I couldn't articulate. I had cut through mabeasts on my journey to the cave. I'd taken their lives without flinching, without a second thought.
But this was different, and I suddenly understood exactly why.
There was solace in knowing that what you were cutting down was nothing but a beast. An animal driven by instinct and hunger, no more moral weight than swatting a mosquito.
The only other person I'd fought had been Elsa, but she came back. I was never faced with what I'd done to her. She had lived.
Not the cultists
Those were people. Fragile, mortal people with hopes and fears and dreams. They had families at some point; maybe they still did. Maybe children were waiting for fathers who would never come home. Maybe mothers were—
"Enough, dammit! Shut the fuck up!" I gripped my hair with both hands, desperate to silence the accusations echoing in my skull.
The dried blood on my fingers left rust-colored stains in my white hair as I stared down at the muddy puddle that had formed from all the ice I'd melted.
"It was them or me! They were the enemy! They would have gone after Lia! So shut the hell up!"
I gasped for air, hyperventilating as I looked down at myself. I was a disaster, blood, vomit, and mud had turned my new clothes from that piece of shit Lucan into a war crime. At least I'd worn something expendable.
My cloak was equally disgusting, having trailed through bloody entrails when I'd collapsed next to those two corpses—
I slammed my fist into my temple, the sharp pain driving the image away like a nail through wood.
'Get moving. I need to… I need to…'
'I need to get my shit together, this place is dangerous. Move.'
—
I stumbled my way back to the manor like a drunk trying to remember the way home. My legs felt disconnected from my body, operating on muscle memory and sheer stubborn will. Entering through a side door, I found myself somewhere I had no intention of being.
The golden, honey-warm light of the Forbidden Library illuminated my pathetic form.
Beatrice sat in her usual chair, an ornate tome open in her lap, but her wide blue eyes with butterfly irises were fixed on me with an expression I couldn't read.
"Rough night, I suppose?" Her voice was carefully neutral.
I blinked at her, my mind struggling to process the simple question. A thin chuckle ripped itself from my lungs.
"Heh."
Without another word, I turned around and closed the door behind me with a soft click, leaving Beatrice and her questions in the warm golden glow.
I wandered through the empty hallways. I didn't know what the hell I was doing, couldn't seem to hold a coherent thought for more than a few seconds.
A bath. I needed a bath. And clean clothes that didn't smell like a battlefield.
The hot water felt like penance as it turned pink around my feet, washing away the physical evidence if not the memory.
I scrubbed until my skin was raw, used half a bar of stolen soap, trying to get the blood from under my fingernails. When I finally emerged, I looked human again, my hair white instead of rust-red.
Changing myself into my usual outfit and having disposed of my messy clothing in my room, I eventually found myself wandering the halls again, feet carrying me without conscious direction until I stopped in front of a familiar door.
'Lia.'
My hand rose toward the brass doorknob of its own accord, hovering there for a heartbeat of hesitation.
Slowly, quietly, I twisted the handle and stepped inside.
The room was bathed in soft silver moonlight filtering through partially curtained windows. From the bed came the gentle rise and fall of covers, the soft, rhythmic whisper of peaceful breathing that spoke of dreams unmarked by violence.
I couldn't see her face through the blankets, but I could hear her, alive, safe, untouched by the horror I'd left in that cave.
I closed the door behind me with infinite care, engaging the lock with the softest possible click.
Then I slumped down against the cool wooden door, my sheathed sword clutched tight in my arms like a security blanket, and stared out the window at the star-scattered night sky.
'They were the enemy.' I once more began rationalizing for the hundredth time.
'They would have harmed innocent people.'
'They would have—'
But a louder voice decided to add its two cents.
'Were they really the enemy? You killed them before they even did anything.'
'They had already said what they were going to do.' I shot back.
'But was that truly set in stone? You didn't really try to divert them. Nope! Away with diplomacy and your supposed silver-tongue! Straight to the killing! But hey… they deserved it, didn't they?'
The images flashed through my mind, the grip around the sheath of my blade growing tighter as I desperately sought out something to drown my thoughts.
But nothing came.
I wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.
—
Author's Yap Session:
Pride is a Sin.
Ethan has always used it as a tool. I don't view his Authority as something inherently corruptive, more like a warped filter, a lens he's forced to see through for a short time. But even if it's temporary, it changes how decisions feel. It makes cruelty seem logical. Justified.
His immediate shock after Reason and Judgment wears off shows that it hasn't changed who he is.
It doesn't control him, but it certainly makes it easier for him to make cruel decisions, and they may have been dumb decisions. Could he really not have found a better way to do this? Yes, he could have. But Ethan is human, and that means he's flawed.
Also, if these cultists weren't Ethan's loyal and faithful men and women, where were they? Why was the Gospel suddenly so vague?