Small chapel, front hall.
As agile as a cat, as silent as a shadow, as swift as a blade—Maria moved with breathtaking speed, charging toward home with unwavering intent.
Fortunately, the newly-corrupted aberrants could not intercept her.
That allowed the black-clad nun to preserve a good portion of her strength. By her estimation, there were at least two plague-spreading mutants inside the chapel, and against that type of chaotic abomination, without high Constitution and strong Will, one could easily be worn down to death.
Catching her breath, Maria did not rush in immediately.
She first loosened the reins of the Blessed Mount she had brought back from Torrent City. The horse’s constitution was clearly excellent; it showed no signs of infection. Even in this tainted and dangerous air, it merely stamped the ground anxiously. Without special training and a sacred blessing, it would have been on its last breath by now.
“Good girl. Wait for me.”
She whispered softly by the horse’s ear, receiving a snort in reply.
With a sharp hiss, Maria drew her gleaming swordstaff. Its blade, blessed by the chapel’s pastor, shimmered with strands of holy dawnlight—faint yet resolute, bringing a sliver of hope into the ominous mist. Her fair, striking face was illuminated by that glow, set firm with sanctity.
With a teeth-grinding screech, the black-clad nun pushed open the chapel doors. It was like opening the gates of hell itself.
Atop the altar stood Pastor Lynn, as if waiting to deliver a sermon, just as he had so many times before, awaiting the return of his eldest daughter. But in his hands there was no Holy Tome, and his pastoral robe was soiled beyond recognition. Even just standing there, he radiated desecration.
“Maria, my dear daughter, you’ve finally come home.”
His sickly greenish-yellow face bore the same warm smile as always. Pastor Lynn gazed at her with fatherly affection. To him, his greatest pride in life was raising his adopted daughter Maria into the woman she had become—a pride that had taken root deep in his heart as one of his few obsessions.
“Don’t be afraid. Your mother will be back soon. Then we can all live happily together again… Come, Maria, lay down your weapon. Join us in the baptism of eternal life.” His smile broadened as he reached out a hand to her.
A blinding swordlight flashed in the front hall, so fast Pastor Lynn had no time to react. The icy gleam carved a lethal arc, cleanly severing half his hand at the wrist. Discolored blood spurted freely.
Lynn stared blankly at the severed hand, as if he felt no pain at all.
“Why? How could someone so devoted to the Radiant Lord fall into corruption?” Maria’s teeth ground audibly in fury. Given Pastor Lynn’s level of piety, it should have been all but impossible for Chaos to seduce him. This text is hosted at novel·fiɾe·net
Perhaps it was a question for himself as well. A flicker of human clarity returned to his dull features, and from his clouded eyes shone a shard of hatred—so strong that even after losing most human emotions, it remained carved deep into his heart.
“…Let me tell you, Maria. Once, I was just a poor boy from the countryside, envious of the pastors. I prayed to the Lord, begging to become one who could help others in their hardships. But a pauper who could barely feed himself—what right had I to be a pastor? Then one day, Ruth appeared before me, and I knew—she was the angel the Lord had sent to save me.”
As he recalled the moment his beloved Ruth appeared in the light, Pastor Lynn sank into the beauty of the memory. He believed without doubt she was the messenger sent in answer to his devout prayers.
“We lived together, smiling through any hardship. She loved me, I loved her, and we spread the Lord’s radiance together—it was beautiful. But if she was sent by the Lord, why did He cruelly tear her away from me? Or… had He never answered my prayers at all? From the start, had He only wanted to take Ruth, to savor my despair and pain?”
“If that’s the case, then I’ll pay any price to take Ruth back!”
The moment his wife died, Lynn’s faith took a mortal blow.
He had been utterly devoted to the Radiant Lord, yet could not even save his beloved’s life. His desperate prayers, even pledging his own life, had been met with cold silence.
And because that faith had once burned so bright, its reversal became all the more terrifying.
“You’re insane, Father.”
Maria’s teeth nearly cracked from the force she used to contain her rage. She glared at the monster atop the altar, now wholly a blasphemer. No reply from the so-called Lord, the gods gone silent after last autumn’s harvest, the power of evil surging, divine oracles absent—and in that exact fragile moment, her mother Ruth had passed away.
Before that harvest, her mother’s health had still been fine.
“Insane? The night Ruth left me, she took my soul with her.” His voice drifted back toward chaos and delirium as he picked up his severed hand.
Before Maria’s disgusted gaze, the stump of his arm sprouted writhing flesh-tendrils, reattaching the hand with ease.
From the twitch of the fingers, it was still perfectly functional.
“If Mother were still alive, she’d never become the wretch you are now.” Knowing this man was beyond salvation, the black-clad nun could only silently apologize to her dead mother. She had failed to care for her father; by the time she realized it, he had already sunk into despair.
“Ruth is alive. Soon, you’ll see her.”
Immersed in his fantasy of reunion, Pastor Lynn’s smile softened. But the hiss of a blade cutting through air brought him sharply back to reality.
The sword, merciless in its cleansing of corruption, struck straight for his head.
Even under the crushing pain in her heart, Maria’s grip on her sword did not falter. She would end this foul sin here and now—
Even if it meant killing her own father.
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