Victor’s deduction was entirely wrong, yet his conclusion was perfectly correct; he had filled in the blanks with a terrifying degree of smoothness.
Just then, Johann arrived at a quick pace, clutching a stack of documents recently recovered from the cultist stronghold.
“Lord Allen, how should we handle this intelligence?”
“Burn it,” Allen ordered without even looking.
“Huh?” Johann froze for a moment.
Allen countered with a question, “You’ve probably skimmed the contents already. What are your thoughts?”
Johann thought for a moment and answered cautiously, “The information inside… it seems highly authentic. Some of the details can even be corroborated by other evidence.”
Allen smiled. “That is precisely what makes cultists so insidious. They are masters of the plot within a plot; leaking intelligence is itself a part of their plan. This information might be half-true and half-false, or perhaps it consists entirely of carefully selected truths. Regardless, they only have one objective—to lead our train of thought into the hole they’ve dug for us.”
“There is a saying in tactical circles: ‘Brute force beats stealth, stealth beats steady, and steady beats brute force.’ When dealing with schemers like these cultists who manipulate the human heart, you don’t need to use your head at all. Don’t even look at the intelligence they provide; just burn it. Only when they realize the bait they so meticulously prepared hasn’t even caused a ripple will they truly break.”
“Understood!”
A flash of realization sparked in Johann’s eyes. He turned immediately and threw the stack of precious intelligence into the roaring bonfire without a hint of hesitation.
Allen’s theory of the “Brute-Force Strategy” was like a bolt of lightning that shattered Victor’s mental shackles.
He suddenly realized that Livia von Stern’s seemingly insane killing spree was also following the principle of the “Brute-Force Strategy.”
Faced with an endless stream of conspiracies, she had abandoned thought entirely, using only the most primal and purest form of violence to crush everything in her path.
No wonder the Judgement Court was always being played like a fiddle by those cults. This was the root of the problem!
Absolute strength crushes all schemes; the ancients certainly did not deceive me!
After dealing with the miscellaneous tasks, Allen found Sophia to chat for a bit.
One was Anna’s “guardian,” and the other was Anna’s “owner.”
With Anna as their common center of gravity, they found more and more topics to share, and their relationship grew increasingly familiar.
“Curious about curry? Next time, I’ll treat everyone to a taste at the Continental Hotel.”
Allen mentioned it casually. Upon hearing this, the killing intent usually carried by the members of the War Party softened significantly.
They were all quite tempted by the idea of changing into civilian clothes to sample some worldly delicacies.
“Thank you, Lord Divine Emissary.”
Sister Sophia was as gentle and polite as ever, but the look in her eyes as she watched Allen held a deeper sense of admiration than before.
……
Allen felt a slight urge to complain about how everyone was treating him like a God’s Messenger, but he held it back.
‘If I keep acting like this, I might actually manage to pass myself off as a Saint.’
‘If I get enough believers to worship me every day, I might even be able to use Faith Power to resurrect after I die.’
‘When that happens, the scripts of the Evil Gods will completely collapse.’
‘Well, thinking about it that way, it doesn’t seem like a bad idea.’
After destroying the stronghold, members of the Inquisition painted a skull symbol—a mark representing the purity of humanity—on the walls with white paint.
Allen stared at the symbol while stroking Anna’s head. “Anna, can you smell Livia? I mean… can you tell which direction that strong scent on her went?”
Beside him, Sister Sophia’s eyelid twitched. Her complex expression seemed to say, ‘Lord Divine Emissary, Anna really isn’t a puppy!’
However, the airheaded “canine-like” girl was very cooperative. Anna sniffed the air vigorously and then pointed excitedly toward a deep, dark passage. “I smell it! She went that way!”
“Let’s go. Let’s see what kind of tragic state the next stronghold is in.”
Allen patted the Black Sword hanging at his waist, raised his torch, and took the lead into the darkness.
Victor and Johann exchanged a glance and immediately led their respective teams to follow.
By now, both the Dawn’s Children and the Inquisition had established bases in Heaven’s Haven. As neighbors, the cooperation between the two sides had become increasingly tight.
One was driven by a hatred for the Old World and a desire to liberate humanity, while the other was driven by a hatred for the enemies of humanity and a hope to save it.
Their shared hatred kept them united, but the one truly knitting them together was Allen.
Allen was the Uncorruptible One. Because of this, these two organizations—full of paranoia and fanaticism—could efficiently execute the salvation plan under his guidance without being led astray by the enemy.
Shortly after the group departed, the abandoned cultist base welcomed an uninvited guest.
A middle-aged man draped in a black robe appeared silently in the shadows, as if he were an inherent part of the darkness itself.
He stopped before the wall and trailed his fingertips across the freshly painted white skull symbol.
The paint was not yet dry, leaving a sticky residue on his hand.
He ignored it and brought his fingers to his nose to sniff. Then, he spoke into the empty depths of the darkness, his voice carrying the distinct arrogance of a Noble.
“Master of Darkness, what do you think? The kid from the Laval House, that so-called ‘God’s Messenger’… will he be the key variable in your grand plan for revenge?”
A majestic and terrifying voice slowly resonated from the darkness.
“…Mortal, perhaps you should learn to respect a deity.”
The middle-aged man sneered, casually wiping the paint from his fingertips onto his robe.
“Save it. You aren’t a god. You are merely a stray dog who tried to stand equal with ‘Them’ and was stripped of everything.”
“I have never denied my failure.” The voice in the darkness held no hint of anger; instead, it sounded amused.
“But mocking a player who is still lurking on the chessboard? Mortal, this Great Game is, by nature, full of lies and mockery.”
The voice paused, its tone turning icy.
“You still remember the contract I have with your family, don’t you?”
“Of course.” The middle-aged man’s smile faded.
“Since the game has begun, then burn everything I have bestowed upon your family. Bloodline, glory, authority, and even all living beings… they shall all be the kindling for this gamble.”
“You have your plan, and I have mine. You may take everything I possess at any time,” the middle-aged man said in a low voice. “I only want to know… that ‘God’s Messenger,’ what exactly is he?”
The voice in the darkness gradually receded, leaving only a meaningful sentence echoing in the empty stronghold.
“You had better pray that he never truly ‘awakens.'”
“A certain existence once saved your humanity… but since the dark gods have turned their gaze here once more… you will not have a second chance.”
——
At the same time, at an underground river some unknown distance away.
Livia was currently submerging her entire body in the bone-chilling river water.
The water was so cold it felt like countless ice needles stabbing into every inch of her skin, yet it was far from enough to extinguish the scorching heat within her body that threatened to incinerate her sanity.
The Bloodline Power, boiling from her continuous slaughter, was crashing wildly through her veins like a caged beast.
Under this influence, steam rose from her soaked clothing, forming a small, warm mist in the darkness.
At this moment, her Stellar Sigil emitted a soft light, projecting a miniature starry sky into the darkness, illuminating her pale, bloodless cheeks.
Her pale gold hair spread out across the black surface of the water, drifting slowly with the undercurrents.
Livia looked up, her azure eyes gazing vacantly at that artificial sky.
Recently, she seemed to vaguely hear those whispers from the “Stars” again—the ones that used to guide her.
But this time, those gentle and friendly voices had become blurred and strange, filled with an unsettling temptation.
They no longer spoke of responsibility and glory; instead, in a sickly sweet tone, they praised the sweetness of blood and the pleasure of slaughter.
Her body was also experiencing abnormalities; her skin had become unusually sensitive.
The flow of the cold river water no longer brought a chill, but a strange, unbearable tingling sensation.
The wet clothes clinging to her skin felt like a form of torture with every movement—a provocation she both loathed and could not ignore.
Livia’s self-loathing grew more intense.
Perhaps she truly had been bewitched by the Evil God.
She was losing control.
“…Allen de Laval.”
She unconsciously breathed the name.
The black-haired boy who had said “I’m going to kill you” to her in front of everyone.
As the day of the duel approached, his name appeared in her mind with increasing frequency.
Whenever her will wavered and she longed for release from this endless pain, it was no longer the face of her dear friend Marianne that surfaced, but his pitch-black eyes.
Why…
Why was it him?
Something… is twisting my thoughts.
She even began to look forward to that duel—not for the glory of battle, but for… his sword.
When his sword pierced through her body, what would it feel like?
Would it be a pain that brought liberation, or… another kind of ultimate bliss?
The thought sent a shiver through her, a wave of extreme cold rushing up her spine to her brain, making her feel so nauseated she almost vomited.
Yet, it also cleared her dazed mind for a fleeting moment.
She looked down and was startled to find that her hand had, at some point, pressed tightly against her flat abdomen.
Despite the cold river water and the soaked clothes, the skin beneath her palm was as hot as a branding iron.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.