With a sound like a balloon bursting, the writhing, elastic flesh barrier was finally pierced under Maria’s relentless effort. She almost toppled into the putrid, maggot-ridden meat as she staggered forward in a disheveled state after breaking through the last obstruction.
She had lost far too much blood.
Dizziness, ringing ears, dimming vision, a body growing ever colder—!
The massive blood loss had unleashed an impressive surge of blood-essence, but it also left Maria gravely injured. Her system panel must now have been flashing: Severe Blood Loss. Critically Weakened.
Breath ragged, Miss Maria blinked her bright eyes. Everything she saw was doubled, the overlapping shadows sliding toward pitch-black nothingness. Normally, that meant someone was right on the verge of collapse.
She saw the corpse of her mother, Ruth.
Corrupted by Chaos, her body was now fused intricately with the Blasphemous Altar. Ruth’s form had warped beyond recognition, melted into something waxen and decayed, constantly leaking sickly white-yellow fluid as if it would never run dry. That foul substance oozed down, covering the altar until flesh and altar became one.
The most horrifying part—she was still alive.
When Maria entered, that abomination had tried to shift its body away from the dangerous aura of red blood-particles emanating from her. But the countless tendrils binding Ruth to the sacrificial altar refused to let her move an inch.
At some point, the furious pounding of Pastor Lynn against the Blasphemous Altar had ceased. That was no good sign. It meant that the miracle of his restored willpower may already have been consumed by madness—or that Pastor Lynn had fallen entirely.
“Are you going to kill your own mother with your own hands, Miss Maria?”
This time, Green rose from the pool of white-yellow fluid in the distance. He had learned his lesson—no longer daring to approach the seemingly weakened black-clad nun. Even when she looked half-dead, the force behind her movements was as sharp and lethal as ever. As a Chaos worshipper, Green feared her deeply.
If all humans were as unyielding as Maria, then when the great ones came to feast on this sweet world, they would find their banquet much harder won.
Staring at that corpse melting like wax, Maria’s tone carried bitter mockery. Yes, that was indeed her mother Ruth. Her soul still lingered in that corrupted shell, torn and gnawed by the hatred of other trapped spirits.
Maria’s actions were decisive.
The moment she entered, she dragged her failing body toward Ruth—not with any intent to talk, judging from the killing aura of her blood-essence.
“Do you really not understand the greatness of the Benevolent Father?” Realizing that words could not sway the nun’s resolve, Green sighed. He could not comprehend it. Maria bore such immense gifts, the exalted power of Chaos itself. She ought to be Chaos’s most faithful devotee.
“The greatness lies in civilization and order—not in Chaos.”
Standing before her mother’s corpse, Maria finally answered his doubts. She knew how dangerous her dual powers were, how tempting to mortals. Others had to claw their way upward to grow stronger. She needed only to surrender—to listen to the whispers of the higher beings, to accept the blessings of the Chaotic gods.
But her half-player, half-NPC nature held her upright. She would not yield.
Under Green’s despairing gaze, Maria drove both hands deep into Ruth’s chest, flooding her body with the last reserves of blood-essence. Her expression was tranquil, just as in days past when she gazed at her mother—the woman whose arms had always offered warmth. Tears streamed down Maria’s cheeks.
I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Mother… I cannot save you. I can only grant you release.
“Why aren’t you helping my sister yet?!”
Outside the town gates, Felia sat on the ground kicking her legs in frustration. The little girl’s white-socked legs were treasures in their own right, and the only one privileged to behold them was the Foreigner—who looked on with disdain, swigging liquor and eyeing her critically.
“She’s been in there so long, how is there ‘no need’?” Felia didn’t understand what was happening in the town and was furious at this bastard old man who had dragged her outside.
The Foreigner just curled his lip, saying nothing.
This little sprout who hadn’t even grown up yet was annoying—nothing like her sister’s intellect and grace. He even doubted they were truly siblings. If not for the surprise he had in mind for Sister Maria, he wouldn’t bother saving such a noisy burden.
While Maria fought, the Foreigner was not idle.
He had carefully studied the few-thousand-strong population of the town. His keen sense of danger had warned him before the outbreak; he’d traced the source to Seth town’s church. For reasons of his own, he had knocked out and abducted Felia.
He did it quietly. No one noticed.
Ironically, that act saved her life. When Seth town became shrouded in the viscous, uncanny white mist, its inhabitants began to mutate. Strange toxins filled the air. The Foreigner had never encountered such life-hating power. He slaughtered a few reckless Corrupted inside before retreating. His instincts told him not to press further.
“Little sprout, your sister’s a lot better than you.” He cast an unkind glance at Felia’s flat chest, comparing it in his mind to the nun’s curves, and added, “As a woman—and as a Hunter.” Follow current novᴇls on 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⚑𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖⚑𝕟𝕖𝕥
Feeling insulted, Felia leapt to scratch his face, only to be held at arm’s length like a squirming child. He didn’t even bother looking at her tantrum.
Even while bantering, the Foreigner kept most of his focus on the town.
Thankfully, the mutated townsfolk of Seth town could not leave its boundaries. They seemed bound within that foul mist. Otherwise, to stand alone against thousands of death-defying, unnaturally resilient lunatics—even the Foreigner, confident as he was, would have felt his scalp go numb.
Now, he simply waited.
Waited for a miracle belonging to Miss Maria.
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