Sadie's hand shot to her waist—only to grasp the hilt of a dagger.
Damn it. The knuckle-dusters are in the pack!
The Plague Zone sward with monsters, each requiring different tactics. That was why hunters always carried a variety of weapons, coordinating with one another to strike in the right way at the right ti.
For example, the Sacrificer before her: strike it with a blade or shoot it with a firearm, and its body would erupt in an explosive fla. That fire clung to flesh and refused to die out, burning its victims alive.
The only effective counter was blunt-force weapons.
Too late! Sadie felt searing heat wash over her neck. The creature's speed was overwhelming.
Just as despair gripped her, a muffled grunt ca from behind.
Sadie did not dare stop. She rembered one of Father Gideon's constant lessons: the ones who die first are always the curious.
Still, she stole a glance over her shoulder—and froze.
The Sacrificer lay thrashing on the ground, ensnared in a loop of rope pulled taut from behind.
The other end of the rope was held by Gideon.
"Sadie!" Ralph ca crashing through the brush a mont later. When he saw what had happened, he hurried to her side, flustered, full of concern and guilt. He couldn't shake the sting of having run too far ahead—missing his chance to swoop in as her savior.
"I'll finish this thing," he growled, slipping brass knuckles onto his fists.
But Gideon stopped him.
Before either Sadie or Ralph could question it, the priest knelt, composed and reverent, as though beginning a sermon.
"Lost soul of fla," Gideon intoned gently, "playing with fire is dangerous. Look at you now—scorched, broken…"
Sadie and Ralph gaped at the sight.
He's… preaching to a monster?
They turned to each other, each seeing the sa stunned disbelief in the other's eyes.
Yet the Sacrificer itself was writhing, shrieking, its legs scrabbling desperately in the dirt—trying to escape from the priest's presence.
What in God's na was happening here?
The two hunters were utterly baffled. What they were seeing overturned everything they thought they knew.
"…Even if not for the safety of other creatures, you shouldn't be scorching flowers and grass like this."
Father Gideon continued patiently exhorting the Sacrificer sprawled before him.
At first, he had doubts himself. Could his ability, Voice of Redemption, really reach a monster?
But soon his brows lifted in surprise.
Through this gift, he truly connected with the creature—not through speech, not through thought, but sothing deeper, primal. A resonance with instinct itself.
The Sacrificer stopped struggling. Instead, it lowered its head and, clumsily, even propped back up the grass it had flattened a mont ago.
At the sa ti, glowing text flickered in Gideon's vision:
[Voice of Redemption 1]
[You have redeed a lost soul.]
The monster's aura of malice had completely vanished.
Gideon stroked his chin, then sprinkled a vial of holy water over its body.
Nothing happened. No purification, no death throes.
So… it has turned from evil to good?
That ant fewer relics spent—but more breath wasted.
---
On the other side, Ralph was stunned.
This Father Gideon… he must be a truly devout man of the Church!
A bold thought suddenly crossed his mind.
"Father Gideon," Ralph asked, eyes gleaming, "if I joined the Church now… would I gain power like yours?"
Gideon hesitated, then gave a small nod. "The path of redemption is open to all."
He had been ready to dismiss the idea—but then rembered the Church's recent directive to recruit new faithful.
Still, Ralph quickly abandoned the thought. He had other priorities—like marrying Sadie.
---
Since the Sacrificer no longer showed hostility, the three did not strike it down. Instead, they simply watched as it shuffled back into the woods, as if intent on assuming the duties of a gardener, nding what it had once burned.
Sadie even found herself instinctively raising a hand in farewell.
anwhile, Ralph's pack was bulging with rare materials. So of them had bounties posted for years at the tavern, items he had only ever heard of but never seen.
It dawned on him then: this whole expedition, Father Gideon hadn't needed his help in the slightest.
It was Ralph who had reaped the windfall.
If he returned to St. Fréyan alive, his strength would leap to a new level.
His respect for the priest grew until he was half ready to follow him like a sworn brother.
No wonder Sadie admires him so much.
But then unease gnawed at him.
Damn… I've got no charm compared to the Father. What if Sadie falls in love with him?!
---
Elsewhere, in what was once a villager's ho before the plague spread—now long abandoned—Lance Pope Beneck was setting his sixth trap.
Golden-haired, blue-eyed, his striking features had earned him whispers even among rivals. He was the Benneck family's lone representative in this expedition.
Humming a southern folk tune, Lance scattered bits of tal down the hallway, then suspended glass bottles on strings from the doorfra.
A simple yet reliable hunter's trap—any intruder, beast or man, would set off a telltale sound.
Satisfied, he stepped out of the cabin and made his way to a concealed entrance nearby.
Beneath the ground lay a passage leading to a creek, linked back to the house by a single narrow vent.
---
User Comments
0 comments from readers