Chapter 1409 - 6: Fatalists

Within Seven Hills, riots began to rise; madness and disorder were gradually devouring those whose faith felt shattered. Fanatical Believers bellowed as they hurled themselves against all around them, but Holy Hall Knights soon appeared to suppress the scene.

Gunshots and hoarse shouts rang out without end, yet this still did not seem to be the moment when the curtain would truly be raised. The panic lasted for a time, then subsided; the well?equipped Holy Hall Knights once again took control of the grounds.

This time they grew ever more severe, their Iron Armor stained with blood as they barked at the Believers, driving them quickly out of the city.

Most of the Believers turned docile; it was unclear whether they truly were so, or merely plotting the next instant of eruption.

Demon Hunters moved through the shadows; they silently killed those most active among the fanatics. Deprived of these ringleaders, the Believers were, for the moment, unable to stir up greater waves.

Such things kept occurring, replaying themselves over and over, until night fell and the Holy City sank into a hushed stillness.

The Holy City, rarely, imposed a curfew. Holy Hall Knights guarded the streets, while beyond the city there was an even larger deployment of Holy Hall Knights, dispersing the Believers, sending them back to their own homelands or finding some place to settle them.

But what was clear was that, no matter what, the Believers had to be kept far from the Holy City. For now they held no blades, and were still relatively obedient, but no one knew what they might do once they possessed the power to resist.

The Holy Hall Knights strove not to dwell on this. Faith is a sharp double?edged sword; now they had already tasted its bitter fruit, and in the darkness, more blood was still flowing.

"This may be an opportunity."

Someone hid in a shadowed room, whispering furtively.

"Ever since he became Pope, our days have only grown worse. That damned man has no idea what compromise means."

Someone echoed him.

"They say Miguel is dead as well. The Exiles are gradually withering away; we can no longer pin any hopes on them."

"This madman slaughtered so many families just to see himself crowned. Then might there be a next time, and a time after that?"

There were those who voiced dissent, feeling that things were not quite so dire.

"Perhaps... perhaps this time we should obey him?"

That person’s voice trembled, weighted with fear.

"You must have had nightmares as well, dreamed of all those hideous horrors... Perhaps it is real. You all know that legend, don’t you?"

He swallowed, forcing himself to muster his courage.

"It is said the Pope commands an army composed of Demons... Only a Cardinal is entitled to know a little of it."

At these words, the people fell into a brief silence.

"A Cardinal... is it?"

Someone murmured, and at once the murmur was suffused with anger.

His family had once held a Cardinal as well, but at the final moment of choosing sides, that Cardinal stood in the wrong place, and everyone knew how it ended. The new Pope swept away every obstacle; his enemies either died within this Holy City, or fled overseas, vanishing without a trace.

He looked at the others. They too were families of considerable renown in the Holy City. They had long maintained a precise balance with the Pope, yet with the rise of the new Pope, all of this was disrupted.

The balance was broken; the new Pope gripped everything in an iron hold, granting them not a breath of space, forcing these so?called illustrious families of centuries’ standing to obey his will completely.

Some submitted. Others, like them, still hoped for the arrival of change.

"We can make use of today’s conflict, seduce the fanatics, and, ideally, drive them to assault Saint Nalos Cathedral. I refuse to believe the Pope would remain indifferent. The more chaos there is, the more chance we have."

That man’s voice was steeped in Evil Anomaly; another wanted to refute him.

"But the nightmare is real. You must have dreamed it too!"

He shouted loudly. He could understand their discontent with the new Pope, but what he could not fathom was how, before such dreadful nightmares, these people could still cling to their greed and madness.

"What... nightmare?"

Suddenly someone asked this. He turned to look, and a face slowly twisting, warped and wicked, entered his sight. So great was his terror that even his breath halted for an instant.

"Have you been having nightmares recently?"

The man continued to question him.

He could no longer utter a word. The nightmare was real; the Evil Anomaly was real. The tragedy was that this unknown power of hatred had already devoured these people, making them puppets of the darkness.

"N... nothing. I have other matters; I’ll be leaving now."

So saying, he rose and walked toward the door; he did not wish to remain here a moment longer.

As they watched his departing back, several others rose silently to follow, silver?bright blades clasped in their hands.

This was a secret, even heretical meeting; they would not permit accidents to occur.

Just as the man pushed the door open to depart, a gleaming blade was already raised high behind him. At the brink of life and death, he pushed the door wide; dim firelight spilled down, sketching out one black silhouette after another in the courtyard.

The man froze. Those shapes stood there like Ghosts, silent and unspoken; no one knew how long they had been there.

But soon the man lost even the ability to think. A sharp Nail Sword thrust in from one side, cleanly severing his neck. The other’s sword stroke was so swift that scarcely any blood spilled before his head rolled weakly to the floor, and only after a few seconds did the blood begin to pour out.