A powerful force pierced the core of the vines, dealing a heavy blow to the rift through which Mother Earth was seeping into the Material Realm. The tear in the world’s Order was nded...
The rampant growth and zombification all ca to a halt.
On the surface, construction crews were trying to widen the fissure in the road beside the Church. Search and rescue operations had to be carried out before any repairs could begin. "There must be survivors in the underground patrol." Joseph was certain. He knew that the final surge of Divine Power had been guided by soone, which ant a resilient and powerful Holy Knight, capable of invoking such power, had been on the battlefield below.
Buried in the tombs, the Gray Robe Knight and other Holy Knights struggled to climb upward. Fortunately, the layers of passages hadn’t completely collapsed, and by passing through rubble and earth, they could occasionally reach an open chamber. The only problem was the lingering undead, which sotis hindered their progress. However, as the evil power receded, the monsters’ movents grew more and more sluggish, as if they were reverting to dirt and bone.
But one Gray Robe Knight in the group took no part in the fighting or digging. He had a more solemn mission: to sadly and reverently carry a ruined body—Odysseus’s arms had disintegrated, the stumps now horrifying crystals flowing with golden light, a result of being overloaded with Divine Power. His lower body had been ensnared and torn to shreds by the vines in their final death throes, and was nowhere to be found.
The most intact parts of him were his resolute, peaceful face and his sword. When they found the Great Sword, its hilt was still coated in the golden crystals that had once been his hands, while the blade itself radiated a holy light.
Finally, the teams digging down from above and up from below t. The faces of those who returned to the surface were caked with dirt and sorrow.
After this battle, the restored Sacred Heart Cathedral would house the remains of a new Saint: Odysseus, the Hand of Judgnt of the Lord, the Martyr, the Brave.
...
Empowered by Extraordinary Power, the bell towers of every Church in the city were "broadcasting" the sound, ensuring it was heard in every corner. Rorschach, for instance, was trying to eat dinner, but the noise was making his head buzz.
’If I want to find a quiet place right now, I’d probably have to go into the Tower of Stars. It’s likely the only area in Valuva City that the bells can’t penetrate (though whether its main body is actually in the Royal Capital is still up for debate).’ Unfortunately, since all the mbers of the research group had arrived, they were all having a celebratory dinner at a restaurant in the city.
’Is the Church up to sothing?’ Having completed the test of the Divine Power Dispersal Technique, Rorschach now knew a little about the Master of Light and Order. He could sense the special "symbolism" and "Order" contained within the sound waves—grand, irresistible, and subli... However, the sound of the bells was still too "diffuse." Even by concentrating, Rorschach could only analyze the hazy emotional elents.
The other diners and waiters, despite being ordinary people, also felt sothing from the sudden peal of the bells. They stopped eating and serving; so even began to pray, praising the God of Light and the Lord of Order.
The sound also ruined Kano’s mood. He set down his wine glass. "If any of you get tinnitus from this, let know. I’ll demand compensation from those charlatans on behalf of all of us."
The dinner spot had been chosen from the *Gold Selling Guide, Second Issue*. A semi-enclosed booth, a sort of prototype private room, was large enough for the whole group. Before the al, Pascal had been desperately explaining to Paulina that he was only responsible for compiling the intelligence, and that the "butterfly" establishnt reviews had nothing to do with him.
Rorschach woke up early the next day. He still had to translate his results into a convincing written report. As for a practical demonstration, Kano could take the Scroll and show it to those people, so there shouldn’t be any issues.
’Ah, what a bright and sunny day!’ "Sunlight" was currently streaming through his dorm window, but all the windows in the Tower of Stars displayed illusions. Whether today’s view was a tranquil lakeside forest or a snowy mountain adow was entirely up to the Tower Spirit. Sotis Rorschach thought it was a blockhead; other tis, he felt it was far too human.
However, while reading the paper during breakfast, the headlines nearly made Rorschach choke.
The top headline exposed an Underground Sect, which had been fostering Evil God worship while lurking in Valuva, for attacking the Sacred Heart Cathedral and engaging in a fierce battle with the Church in the East Suburb.
Rorschach scanned the article; the original source of the intelligence on the Holy Mother Order—naly, himself—was not ntioned.
’This Evil God group is insane,’ Rorschach thought, ’daring to clash head-on with the Church’s forces in the Holy Kingdom’s own capital.’ Seeing the report, he now had a good idea who yesterday’s bells had been tolling for.
The second story was even more explosive. The headline read: "Exposing the Biggest Scam Since the Kingdom’s Founding." The sub-headline asked: "Does Shaleanna Actually Have a Gold Mine?"
The Morning Post had always been the top-selling paper in Valois, so naturally, it had been invited to tour the "excavation site" in the Sub-plane. And the Morning Post’s representative in the dia delegation was none other than Mr. Mike, the sa reporter who had previously interviewed the forr miner.
He began by publishing the detailed interview with the miner, summarizing how the Mining Company had faked the excavation site. This was imdiately followed by his own account of the tour he’d taken with the delegation, in which the details corroborated the miner’s story one by one, lending it imnse credibility.
Finally, there was a fatal piece of evidence: he had discovered that the Mining Company’s slting workshop had been receiving recycled gold materials and ore from other places—not from the Sub-plane at all!
’Whew... good thing I cashed out safely.’ That night, Rorschach had accepted Duke lovinca’s deal. Over the past few days, acting as the Duke’s proxy, he had sold off all his shares at a high—ninety percent of the peak price, paid half in Paper Currency and half in Gold Coins. ’Sigh, the Duke is definitely stuck holding the bag now. I’d better be nicer to Apprentice Philippe from now on.’
Rorschach silently made a resolution.
anwhile, the stock exchange and the company building next door had erupted into chaos.
"Sell! Sell!" The listed price kept dropping. Everyone there wanted to unload their shares but couldn’t find a single buyer. The shouts from the exchange floor could be heard all the way in Valon’s office, while at the company’s entrance, shareholder representatives and reporters were POUNDING on the door.
COUGH, COUGH, COUGH... Valon felt like he was about to cough up a lung. He pulled his handkerchief away and saw a pool of dark blood, and he imdiately tossed it aside as if it were a harbinger of plague. The physician who had been providing him with cough dicine had disappeared so ti ago, and his lung disease had been spiraling out of control ever since.
’It’s over. It’s all over.’ He pulled the Donkey Hide from his undergarnts. It was now only the size of his palm, its edges curling up as if it were shrinking by the second.
’What else can I do?’ Valon clutched the Donkey Hide in his palm. Where was his only hope now? The Royal Palace? Nekker? Or this damned, life-draining artifact?
The office door opened and his secretary hurried in. This ti, he wasn’t there to report on the ever-falling stock price, but to offer a serious suggestion. "Lord Valon, we should suspend trading!"
"And then what? Arrest them! Have the Royal Palace arrest all the reporters!" he roared, the words punctuated by a fit of coughing.
"Yes, but first, please look at this. It’s a private ssage from Lord Nekker..."
Hearing the Minister of Finance’s na, Valon snatched the letter. His eyes widened as he read it word by word, as if he ant to devour the very paper it was written on. "Good, good, good," he repeated, then shot out of his office like a gust of wind, heading straight for the main entrance downstairs.
"A press conference! Hold a press conference, right now! We’re going to announce the truth to everyone!"
The shareholders and reporters were ushered into the main hall of the stock exchange. All trading was suspended, and the traders and everyone else were told to remain. After other shareholder representatives and mbers of the press who had heard the news had all arrived, two carriages pulled up to the entrance of the exchange.
The first was a lavish carriage from the Royal Palace, from which stepped the Minister of Finance, his assistant, and his Bodyguards.
The second, unexpectedly, was a carriage from the Church. Tall, armored Samurai escorted two hooded figures who were being treated like dead dogs, while a Priest walked behind them.
The hoods were pulled off. The forr miner and Cultist who had escaped from the Sub-plane, "Salamanda," and a key mber of the Holy Mother Order in Valuva were brought onto the stage under everyone’s gaze. Deprived of their drug-like powder, both of them were ntally broken, drooling blankly.
Nekker also ca to the front of the stage. For a third ti, the sound of urgent hoofbeats was heard outside. The captain of the Security Team ca jogging in and reported to the minister and all those present, his voice firm and clear:
"Reporting to the Minister: The Cultist and forr Morning Post reporter, Mike, has been successfully apprehended by our team while attempting to flee!"
User Comments
0 comments from readers