Regis Liv walked with heavy, weary steps through the cold, dim corridor of the Tower of Judgment.
The heavy knight boots struck the stone slabs, echoing hollowly, as if each step crushed her own heart.
She had just returned from a mission outside the tower—yet another so-called “witch hunt.”
The location was a small village on the border, devastated by famine.
The so-called “evidence” was nothing more than the desperate ramblings of a mentally unstable old woman.
Yet under the cold “divine decree” of the Inquisitor and the cold steel of the knights, the entire village was reduced to flames and blood.
The terrified, bewildered, and hateful gazes of those facing death, the desperate cries of children—all burned into her soul like a brand.
What was even harder for her to accept was that some of the Paladins under her command had a sick gleam of excitement in their eyes, similar to Ingrid’s! They reveled in the power that “purification” brought, rather than fulfilling their duty to protect.
The shock of this realization cut deeper than any sword on the battlefield.
She felt herself being dragged into a bottomless swamp; the more she struggled, the deeper she sank.
Just as her thoughts spiraled and her heart was torn apart, a familiar and deeply unsettling voice echoed from around the corner.
It was Ingrid’s twisted, gleeful whisper, accompanied by another calm voice hiding sharp edges—Yanas.
“…Let’s see how arrogant she can be this time! Colluding with a witch, desecrating the divine—even the marquis’s daughter can’t save her!”
“The Inquisitor has received the Pope’s blessing; the divine decree is in hand… Ravenhold? Hmph, we’ll take it all down at once…”
“Aileen Raven… Hah, the Windmill Village mess, plus the hero’s ‘debt’… all settled at once!”
Regis Liv’s feet froze as if encased in ice, nailing her to the spot! Her heart was gripped by an invisible hand, nearly stopping its beat!
Ravenhold? Aileen? Colluding with a witch? Settling accounts?
“Wait!” Regis Liv almost instinctively roared, her voice trembling with uncontrollable fury and fear. She spun around sharply to block the two women who had already reached the end of the corridor. “Captain Ingrid! Captain Yanas! What did you just say? What’s wrong with Aileen Raven?! What witch?! What settlement?!”
Yanas turned gracefully, her orange-red hair flickering like dancing flames in the dim light.
Her doll-like face bore a hint of amusement, as if she had seen through everything.
Her eyes, the same fiery hue, swept over Regis Liv’s shocked, anxious face with undisguised contempt.
She knew Regis Liv’s background all too well.
A woman who climbed to the captaincy of the Holy Shield Knights by betraying teammates, stepping on the backs of Aileen and Serena—the fool who bore all the blame alone.
A calculating egoist who would stop at nothing to clear her family’s stain and curry favor with the Pope.
Yanas despised such a person from the depths of her heart.
“Captain Regis Liv,” Yanas’s voice was crisp and clear, her smile flawless, as if stating a trivial fact unrelated to herself, “we’ve just received orders from the Inquisitor. According to reliable intelligence, Aileen Raven, daughter of the marquis of Ravenhold on the kingdom’s border, is suspected of harboring and colluding with a ‘Great Witch’ who caused multiple major disasters and desecrated the divine—that brat Rita from Windmill Village. The evidence is conclusive; the divine decree has been issued. We are ordered to proceed to Ravenhold to carry out the capture and purification.”
She deliberately emphasized “evidence is conclusive” and “divine decree issued,” her eyes filled with a hint of condescending pity as she looked at Regis Liv’s suddenly pale face.
“What? Captain Regis Liv seems very concerned about this ‘former teammate’? But in the face of the divine will, personal feelings… are best kept in check.”
Her words were gentle, but each one cut like a blade.
“No… that’s impossible…” Regis Liv instinctively retorted, her voice dry, “Aileen… how could she collude with a witch? There must be some misunderstanding!”
She had indeed heard about Windmill Village and knew a little girl had foolishly stepped forward, claiming to be a witch—probably to save the villagers. She could understand that. After hearing the story, she had even worried for Aileen.
“The facts are just that!” Ingrid eagerly interrupted, her face twisted with cruel delight.
“I heard that little bitch Rita confess it herself! Aileen Raven is naturally the protector! And she even killed the hero personally anointed by the Pope! Crime upon crime! No one can save her this time! The divine decree is her death sentence! Let’s go, Captain Yanas!”
She seemed already to see Aileen kneeling at her feet, begging for mercy.
Yanas nodded slightly to Regis Liv, her smile full of meaning. “Duty calls. Excuse us, Captain Regis Liv.”
With that, she left with the overexcited Ingrid.
Regis Liv stood frozen, drained of all strength. Colluding with a witch? Killing the hero? And Aileen again? Why was it always her?!
After the shock and panic, a deeper suspicion wound around her heart like a poisonous vine:
The Church’s “evidence” and “divine decree”…
Were they really reliable? The “confession” in Windmill Village seemed more like the ramblings of a terrified little girl!
And killing the hero… what was the hidden truth behind that?
Lord Heinrich… could he…?
A terrifying thought chilled her to the bone: Could this be another holy conspiracy against Aileen, disguised in the name of the divine? Just like those rumors before!
No! She could not stand by and watch Aileen dragged into the abyss again!
Regis Liv spun around sharply, almost rushing toward Lord Heinrich’s office.
She even forgot to knock, pushing the door open directly.
“Inquisitor!” Regis Liv dropped to one knee, her voice urgent and pleading, “Regarding the task to capture Aileen Raven and the witch in Ravenhold, I request the Holy Shield Knights take over! I… I was once her teammate and know her habits and Ravenhold’s terrain best! If I lead the team, we can minimize conflicts and casualties, ensure the mission’s success, and avoid… avoid unnecessary bloodshed!”
She tried to persuade Heinrich with “efficiency” and “reducing casualties.”
Heinrich still faced away from her, looking out at the blood-red sunset.
His silhouette in the backlight resembled a cold tombstone.
“Oh? You want to take over?” Heinrich’s voice was like an ice dagger, cold and authoritative.
“Captain Regis Liv Eisenhart, you seem… overly concerned for this ‘former teammate’? Even starting to question the justice of the divine decree?”
He slowly turned around. His murky gray eyes locked onto Regis Liv’s, as if trying to pierce her soul.
“Remember your identity! Remember the shame your father brought upon the Eisenhart family! Remember the trust and honor the Pope has granted you as Captain of the Holy Shield Knights, despite all past grievances!”
“You are the blade of the divine! The shield that purifies all filth from this world! Your duty is to carry out the divine decree without hesitation, severing all ties to evil! Not… to mix in personal weakness and futile emotions!”
His voice rose sharply, filled with fanatic zeal: “Aileen Raven harbors a witch and killed the hero; the mountain of evidence is irrefutable; her guilt is beyond pardon! This is the divine decree! Any questioning of it or attempts to absolve her heresy are themselves sacrilege against the divine!”
“Put away your pathetic sympathy! Do your duty! This task will be carried out by the Sword and Crown of the Goddess! You, step down!”
Each word hammered into Regis Liv’s heart like a heavy mallet.
She felt suffocated by despair and icy coldness.
Heinrich’s attitude was so resolute that he even gave her a clear warning—if she spoke up for Aileen again, she herself might be branded a heretic.
“…Yes. I… understand.” Regis Liv lowered her head, nails digging deep into her palms, forcing herself to stay calm through the pain.
She forced out a few dry words like sand grinding against gravel. Slowly, she stood, as if her soul had been drained, and left the suffocating office.
The heavy door closed behind her.
Regis Liv leaned against the icy door, her body trembling slightly. In her mind, her mother’s and family elders’ harsh admonitions echoed like a curse, drowning out her swirling guilt and worry:
“Raeve! Remember the shame of the Eisenhart name! Remember how your father betrayed the divine, damning the family forever!”
“You cannot repeat his mistakes! You must become the Church’s most loyal and ruthless sword! Use your loyalty and achievements to cleanse the family’s stain!”
“Any personal feelings… are weakness! Betrayal! They will drag you into the same abyss as your father!”
For her family… for atonement…
She had to become a cold blade.
She had to first… kill the part of herself that worried for Aileen, that felt guilty, that doubted the divine decree.
Regis Liv’s gaze grew hollow and numb again, as if she wore an invisible, heavy mask.
She straightened a back nearly crushed by the weight, and with leaden steps, walked down the Tower of Judgment’s seemingly endless cold stone stairs.
Outside the tower’s massive archway, the last rays of the sunset were swallowed by darkness.
In the open space, the elite knights of the Sword and Crown of the Goddess were fully assembled.
Torchlight reflected off shining armor and cold faces, filling the chilly night wind with a deadly aura.
Ingrid sat astride a tall steed, excitedly giving her troops a final, stirring speech.
Yanas stood quietly at the front of the formation, her orange-red hair like flames in the firelight. She gently touched the sword hilt at her waist, her eyes calm and focused, as if about to embark on a long-awaited hunt.
Regis Liv stood in the giant shadow cast by the archway like a forgotten ghost, silently watching the team about to set off for Ravenhold to capture—or possibly kill—her former close friend.
She could do nothing but watch helplessly.
A faint prayer flickered in her heart—
“Aileen… may the Goddess… protect you…”
—against the Church’s cold iron heel and fanatical decree, it felt so pale and powerless that even she found it hypocritical and laughable.
“Big Sister Regis Liv?” A gentle, concerned voice sounded like a ray of light piercing the darkness from behind.
Regis Liv snapped back to herself and quickly suppressed all her struggles and pain deep inside. Her face softened, though slightly tired. She turned around.
Roswither stood before her, dressed in a pristine novice saint robe, golden hair lightly blowing in the night breeze, pure eyes filled with worry.
She had just returned from visiting the refugee area, still carrying the scent of herbs and dust.
“Roswither?” Regis Liv forced her voice to sound calm. “What are you doing here? How’s your trial preparation going?”
“I… I saw your pale face and that you’ve been standing here for a long time…” Roswither looked at her worriedly, her clear gaze seeming to see through Regis Liv’s fragile calm. “Did something happen? Is it about the tower…?”
“Nothing,” Regis Liv immediately interrupted, lowering her voice deliberately, gentle and steady, as if none of what had just happened had occurred. “I just finished a mission and am a bit tired. I wanted to blow some fresh air and clear my thoughts. Don’t worry about me.”
She reached out, habitually intending to tidy the hair disturbed by the wind at Roswither’s temple, but stopped mid-air, instead gently patting her shoulder to change the subject. “By the way, your final trial… is tomorrow, right?”
“Yes!” Roswither nodded firmly, her eyes rekindled with determination, temporarily soothed by Regis Liv’s words.
“Right outside the tower, in the refugee area. The elders said the true power of a saint comes from compassion and healing for those who suffer. Tomorrow’s trial is to use our divine arts and the holy light in our hearts to soothe souls tormented by pain and despair, to ignite the fire of hope in their hearts… that is the saint’s true purpose.”
“Comfort the suffering… ignite hope…”
Regis Liv murmured, her gaze involuntarily drifting toward the tent city outside the tower, a giant scar in the cold night, faint coughs and cries barely audible.
So beautifully said, full of the Church’s hypocrisy. Those refugees don’t even think about who caused all this!
She suppressed the chaotic thoughts within and forced herself to focus on Roswither, trying to make her smile appear warmer and more sincere.
“That’s wonderful, Roswither. Your heart is pure, and your understanding of the holy light far exceeds most. I believe you will do great! This is the best chance to prove your worth and live your faith. Don’t overthink it; rest well and gather your strength. The Goddess… will guide you.”
She could not let Roswither’s pure faith and crucial trial be tainted by the darkness of the Tower of Judgment or her own inner struggles.
The matter of Aileen… could only remain a heavy secret, buried deep in her heart for now.
Roswither felt the encouragement and support in Regis Liv’s words and smiled with purity and strength. “I will do my best, Big Sister Regis Liv! Thank you!”
She did not notice the heavy confusion and sorrow lingering deep in Regis Liv’s eyes as she turned away, full of hope for tomorrow.
The towering shadow of the Tower of Judgment spread over the land like a monster, completely engulfing Regis Liv’s lonely figure.
In the distance, the thunderous clatter of hooves from the Sword and Crown of the Goddess echoed through the silent night, shattering the stillness with cold killing intent and fanatical divine decree as they galloped toward Ravenhold.
And Regis Liv could only stand frozen in place, like a statue slowly freezing over, watching the storm ride away.
*****
In the shadow of the Tower of Judgment, a girl cloaked as a traveling merchant watched Regis Liv and Roswither.
She sighed softly, then turned and vanished into the darkness.