Episode 234
Verita's head appeared to be cleanly severed—but appearances were deceiving. The cut was deep, slicing a deadly path from her left collarbone down to her right side. Blood poured across her black habit.
"What a madman!" Lorcan cursed, yet he stayed true to his duty. With unusual precision, he threw the chain to secure the jar.
All eyes turned to him. A few sharp-witted onlookers had already grasped the situation and dashed toward Lorcan.
I shouted, "Go!"
Cradling the jar, Lorcan sprinted toward the entrance we had just used.
I bent my knees and launched myself into the battlefield. Dust and stone fragnts erupted around as I landed roughly, then steadied myself and blocked the way with a smile. "Where are you rushing off to?"
If Lorcan could return to the starting point and deliver the jar, we would win—or at least secure the highest evaluation score, even if it wasn't an outright victory.
Why am I making such a big fuss? All I truly needed was to pass the test. I didn't care about the Hero Society's evaluation. Securing the B-class qualification was enough. Yet, sohow, I found myself acting as if my life depended on their judgnt.
I clicked my tongue. However, the situation had escalated too far to retreat.
There are six opponents. They were probably C-class heroes. Promotion trials held little significance for B-class heroes and above, except in special cases like Erudi. Still, I couldn't afford to let my guard down. They were a skilled team, adept at leveraging their nurical advantage. Unlike the dull-witted bats, the Seven Sins Sword alone wouldn't be enough.
I resolved not to be conceited and to rely on White Sun Eclipse in the fight. I could distinctly feel three veins coursing through my body, all converging at my heart, and traced their path. The fla rising from my dantian spread through in an instant. After several days of rest and focused training in Teper, my control over internal energy had improved far beyond its previous level.
If I polish this a bit more, perhaps now I can choose the precise mont to enter the White Fla state.
A dwarf appeared before and swung his axe. The force behind the strike was imnse, yet the attack carried surprising restraint, as if designed to wound seriously but not to kill. Of course, asuring strength in such abstract terms was unreliable. I had to rely on his deanor and expression more than the weapon's impact to gauge intent.
For the ti being, none of the six people has shown any desire to kill.
Was it because they held back that Verita had endured so far? More likely, she was conserving her own strength.
Since the opponents weren't going all out, I stayed on the defensive, keeping Verita in my peripheral vision. She was badly injured—anyone else would have collapsed—but she stood upright, pain absent from her expression.
Instead, she wore her usual smile as she addressed Peron, who swung his sword at her. "Have you cald down?"
"What?"
"I apologize for what happened in the first test. There wasn't much ti left. That was the best I could do at the mont."
"The best? Do you realize what happened to my ntor because of your reckless behavior?" Preon demanded.
"By ntor, do you an Erudi?" she asked.
"That's right! There will be no peace for the rest of his life! He will be hunted, pursued relentlessly, and torn to pieces!"
"I... I'm sorry. Certainly, the Dark Church never forgives traitors. But what if we protect your ntor?" she suggested.
Peron froze at her unexpected offer. "We can?"
"I know the type of person Erudi is. I heard his confession in the first test. He sincerely repented for his past and devoted himself to the present. Over the past few decades, he has been active in the Hero Society and has proven that his attitude is genuine. His conversion is so exemplary that it could serve as a textbook example. I won't let him die at the hands of the church," she explained.
Verita smiled gently and pressed a blood-soaked hand to her chest. "Erudi's disposition is moderate. He can walk a path of discipline, like I do. I may lack in many ways, but I have enough influence to vouch for an old man who has repented to the church."
Peron regarded her wearily. Despite the blood, her complexion was clear, her breathing steady, and her eyes glimred as if holding starlight.
Perhaps he felt so fear toward this incomprehensible nun.
"You can't easily believe , can you? It's understandable. Our first eting wasn't pleasant, and what I did to you won't simply vanish. If this still isn't enough to soothe your wounded heart..."
A sudden noise cut through the mont. I blinked in disbelief. Verita stood with her back to , obscuring her movents, but the angle of her hands and the sound made one thing clear: she was sticking her finger into her own eye.
I was bewildered.
"Wait a minute... Oh my, this really doesn't co out easily," she muttered. "Hmm... Ah... Oh, here I go."
A wet, sickening sound followed as Verita pulled out her eyeball. She held it toward Peron. "I have now suffered a serious injury to my left shoulder and endured the pain of losing one of my eyes. Know the pain of another. That is the first step toward understanding. I can only carry out the words of my great gods in this simple manner."
Peron was at a loss for words.
"Of course, pain is relative, and these injuries do not impact deeply. Still, I hope you can understand my heart."
"Y-you... What are you—"
"I am Sister Razbet. Ah, rather..." The bleeding Verita turned toward the spot where Lorcan had vanished. "Really, this has beco a ss."
The mage, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "You are right about that. Didn't I tell you from the beginning? They don't understand words, so it is only right to force them to submit."
Verita humd. "It can't be helped. Coralis, Bron, can you pursue the one who took the jar?"
"Yeah, it can't be helped."
"I will do so."
The mage and the nobleman nodded, their eyes weary as they looked at Verita. They had likely witnessed such behavior countless tis on the journey here.
Should I stop them? I hesitated. Lorcan had left so ti ago, and anyone pursuing him now wouldn't catch up. I decided to let it go. I couldn't afford to worry about him while facing six opponents at once.
Verita, left alone, clapped her hands and called out, "Everyone, gather here for a mont! I have an announcent. This isn't the ti to fight among ourselves!"
If words could halt a battle, there wouldn't have been one when I first arrived.
Verita stood awkwardly before muttering, "It can't be helped."
In that instant, my senses scread a warning. It was the sa sensation as the last ti Verita launched a sudden attack. Monts later, a faint scent of peaches drifted through the air, and she vanished from sight.
I didn't lose track of her this ti. Though she disappeared from view, her presence remained etched in my senses. It was absurd—Verita used no special technique or flashy movent. She was simply fast. She glided across the ground and weaved through the heroes with ease.
The five heroes couldn't react. They didn't even understand what had happened until her strikes landed on their vital points. When they fell, it was all but identical. Then there was the dwarf warrior who had been pressing hardest from the front. His level was impressive; in raw skill, he had just reached B-class.
That explained why he had managed a few exchanges. He had not fully read Verita's movents, but he instinctively defended himself when his comrades fell. He swung his axe in a reflexive counterattack, but that was the limit.
Imdiately afterward, Verita's palm struck him squarely on the forehead.
The dwarf coughed heavily, and his eyes rolled before he collapsed.
Wasn't she at least A-class by the Hero Society's standards? Her physical abilities likely exceeded even that. I tried to calculate my odds if I faced her in battle. Honestly, they were almost nonexistent.
"So if you could subdue them so easily, why didn't you do it sooner?" I asked.
Verita replied, "Behemoth's Feather."
"What's that?"
"That is the na of the jar your teammate just took."
"Behemoth," I muttered.
She was clearly referring to the great demon—the Wave of the Apocalypse, the Star of the Apocalypse, the Absolute God of the Dark Church.
"This is a sealed place, and that jar is a sealing vessel. If it leaves the designated area, the seal will break, and the demon trapped inside will be released. Behemoth's Feather is one of the Dark Church's relics," Verita explained.
"Wait a minute. That ans..."
"Exactly. We had to work together to defeat the demon in the first place. If anyone, blinded by ambition, tries to take the jar alone, they will be killed by the unleashed demon," she finished for .
"Why are you only telling this now?" I asked, stunned.
Verita's frustration was evident. "I kept trying to explain! No one believed !"
It made sense. She had initially appeared as a devout, harmless nun, but she exuded a dangerous aura now. People didn't want to easily get involved with her. I sensed that my interactions with her had triggered this change, which left deeply uneasy. In any case, Lorcan was in danger.
"So this really isn't the ti for us to fight among ourselves. Let's move—"
"Wait, wait a minute!" Verita called sharply, tilting her head to study . "Excuse , Brother, how did you get that wound?"
"Wound?" I touched the slight tingling on my cheek. "I had a bit of trouble with that knight earlier. It's only a scratch, so I'm fine. Rather..."
I hesitated, staring at Verita with disbelief. "My wound isn't the problem. What about you? You're moving around just fine, but are you really okay? Besides your shoulder, why did you pull out a perfectly healthy eyeball? Can you even heal that?"
"It's my fault," Peron said from behind , his voice low. "I lost my sense of reason. Sister Razbet, I'm sorry. I will pay for my sins after the test is over."
Verita turned at his words.
Goosebumps prickled my arms. The cave air grew icy as it brushed against the back of my neck.
"Bla..." Verita's voice cracked as she stepped toward Peron. "B-b-b-bla—"
Was it a spell?
"Sister Razbet?" Peron called doubtfully.
"You! You blasphemous persooooooon—!"
No one could have predicted what ca next. Verita's eye rolled back as she smashed Peron's head with a blunt weapon.
I stared in disbelief. His face crumpled like a dented can, and his protruding eyeball slid out like thick mucus. It didn't feel real.
"No," I muttered as veins throbbed on the back of Verita's hand.
"You dare! Dare! Dare! Dare! Dare! You son of a bitch! Lower than garbage, filth unfit even for recycling! Who did you dareeeeee to injure?"
I didn't want to watch, yet I had a front-row seat as Peron's head was crushed down to his shoulders.
Verita swung her weapon wildly, like a child in a tantrum. "You don't know who you're up against! No idea at all! With those filthy, grimy fingers! You dared touch the sacred priest! Ahhhhhh! Die! Die! Drop dead! Die! Drop deeeeeead!"
I suddenly wondered, If this had been a thick, sacred scripture instead of a blunt weapon, would she have smashed him all the sa?
"Die and atone for your sins! Atone with your death! Atone even in death! Regret what you did today until your soul is worn away, leaving not even its original form! You disgusting heretic, unfit even as pig feeeeeed!"
Verita frantically slamd the weapon down before stopping. Peron's head had been pushed all the way down to his waist.
Verita gasped—not from exertion, but because once a person truly lost composure and fell into a frenzy, even minimal effort would leave them struggling for breath.
Only then did I realize my mouth hung half-open. Even so, no words ca. I felt a flush of embarrassnt at my own reaction. I had always carried the confidence to speak in any situation, but now that confidence lay shattered.
Finally, Verita's ragged breathing slowed. She wiped blood from her face, leaving dried streaks across her skin. When she looked at , her smile was shy yet horrifying enough to haunt a nightmare.
"My deepest apologies. I was very rude. However, Priest, I have eradicated the vermin who dared harm your sacred body," she said.
Her smile reminded of the scholar's words after the first test.
Did she call Verita crazy? What an accurate assessnt. This woman is truly insane.
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