Chapter 220: Taking Action
The city of a high-altitude border.
It was one of the few large human cities in the north, and it boasted a strong army and a grand temple, a temple that was protected by a barrier that could cover the entire city. Otherwise, it would have never survived for hundreds of years in this monster-infested land.
The sun shone down on the city's highest spire, the pure white steeple and the great, arched windows of the temple reflecting the light in a rainbow of a brilliant colors, a holy aura that seemed to radiate from its very stones. This was the place where humans worshipped the Goddess, a place of a holy magic and of the priests who wielded it.
Flamme was carrying Frieren on her back. The girl's body was cold, and her breathing was a shallow, flickering thing, and the weight of her on her own back seemed to grow lighter with every step. Though it might have just been her imagination, she knew that she had to get her to a healer, and soon.
Ela was right behind her, her own eyes a mixture of a curiosity at the grand and majestic temple before them, and a deep and abiding concern for the girl on her friend's back. The wound on her abdomen had been temporarily sealed by Flamme's own magic, but the corrosive, demonic energy that still lingered within her was a slow and insidious poison, a poison that was eating away at her very life force. Herbs and basic healing spells were useless against it. Only the most powerful of a holy magic could purge it.
"Just hold on a little longer," she whispered, but the girl did not respond.
The great doors of the temple were closed, and two guards in a shining silver armor stood before them. As they approached, the guards' own eyes grew wary. "Halt! This is a holy place! No entry without permission!" one of them said, and raised a hand to block their path. He looked from her, to the elf, and then to the blood-stained, white-haired girl on her back, a frown on his face.
"We have come from a border village," she said, her own voice a little out of a breath. "We were attacked by demons. This girl is gravely injured and requires a high-level healing spell."
But the guard was unmoved. "The temple only offers its services to the faithful of humanity," he said, his own voice a cold and unforgiving sound. "That is the rule. As for an elf... and one who has been wounded by a dark and demonic magic at that... she should seek out her own priests. Now go."
In the thousand years since he had 'open-sourced' the holy magic, it had ceased to be the exclusive domain of the Sky-Winged. Any who had the talent could now learn it. But the humans, with their own innate advantage in numbers, had quickly surpassed the other races and were now the masters of it, with the most priests of any race on the continent. But with that had come a new and terrible secrecy, a new and terrible exclusivity.
The sacred magic, and all the other kinds of magic as well, were now a thing that was reserved for the few. The great magic academies were, in theory, open to all, but in practice, only the rich and the powerful could afford the tutelage.
At his words, a wave of a hot and righteous anger now washed over Ela, and a flicker of a magical light appeared in her own eyes. The teachings of the Goddess... they would never condone such a thing.
"Sister Ela," she said, and her own voice was now a firm and steady sound, a sound that was far from the trembling and pleading one she had been about to use. "We can't just let her die."
"I am sorry," he said, "but a rule is a rule. We cannot make an exception, not even for an elf. If we were to let her in, we would be risking the very sanctity of this holy place."
The girl's own anger now gave way to a cold and terrible resolve. She would not let this happen. She would not let the ignorance and the arrogance of these self-righteous humans be the cause of another death. She had seen too many. And this one... this one was different. She was a child, a child who had done nothing wrong, a child who had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And she was a child who was now dying.
"Then we will have to make you," she said, and the air around her now crackled with a new and terrible power.
"What!?"
The guards' own swords were in their hands now, but it was too late. With a flash of a magical light, the swords were torn from their grasp, and they were sent flying back, crashing against the great and heavy doors.
"Sister Ela!" the other cried out. But it was too late for regrets now. A new and even louder sound, the sound of a great and terrible alarm, now echoed through the temple, and the doors, they were now being pushed open, and a new and even larger contingent of guards was now pouring out.
They were now surrounded, and a hundred swords were now pointed at them. "Take them!" a captain shouted. "And if they resist... kill them."
The guards all roared in agreement and began to close in.
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