Balthasar strode into the basilica like a discordant chord striking amidst solemn hymns. Amid the austere composure of the high-ranking clergy, he wore a look of lazy satisfaction, his presence an affront in itself. More unsettling still was the cold chain he carried.
At the other end of the chain was a sister.
Her eyes were thickly blindfolded in black cloth, her body trembling faintly. Most shocking was the deliberate cut in her plain white habit, exposing her chest and abdomen. Six fully-formed, unsteadily glowing Auric Marks were arrayed there—six. A number far exceeding anything Erika had ever seen. They glimmered grotesquely, displayed before the assembly like the sinister trophies of a cruel collector.
"Tch," Kaelen clicked his tongue, voice carrying through the hall without restraint. "Indulging his private… 'hobbies' again. How tasteless."
The tall female Cleric beside him turned her gaze away, pure contempt painted across her features, as though the sight itself was pollution.
Balthasar ignored them entirely. His calculating eyes swept the assembly, sharp and precise. They landed on Erika, pale and tense in the back row. A cruel arc tugged at the corner of his mouth—a silent, predatory promise.
Then, without warning, he pressed a thick finger into the central Mark on the blindfolded sister's chest.
"Guh—ah!"
The golden light flared briefly, then winked out like a snuffed candle. The glow contracted violently, leaving a scorched, ashen scar where it had been. The sister lurched violently, gasping, her chain taut, her trembling body barely upright. Part of her life, Erika realized with a cold knot in his stomach, had been snatched away in an instant.
Balthasar gave a curt nod to Hongbo, dismissive, as if concluding a tedious demonstration. With a sharp yank on the chain, he dragged the nearly insensate sister toward an empty seat at the front. Like a broken animal, she was guided into position.
Dread shot down Erika's spine. This was not mere cruelty. Not idle display. It was a message. A warning aimed at him—the unstable, unwanted element who might know too much. Marks given, taken. Life, ephemeral and worthless.
High Priest Hongbo observed all, brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, but he did not intervene. Greater threats loomed. His authoritative voice then rolled across the basilica, firm and unyielding, quelling the uneasy murmurs.
"My loyal colleagues. You have seen. Let the distractions end. Our Sanctum—the foundation of our faith—faces a crisis capable of overturning everything."
A pause, long enough to make the weight of his words sink deep.
"A threat severe enough to risk Angelic rampancy, and potentially… the complete failure of the Sanctum's Power Circuit!"
A suppressed gasp rippled through the hall. Circuit failure meant the loss of the Sanctum's light, its order, its power—the collapse of civilization itself.
"I know many of you on the front lines, facing the Deathbirds' aberrant assaults, have resorted to… necessary 'harvests'," Hongbo continued, sweeping his gaze over several Clerics from the borderlands, Balthasar included. His tone was cold, a calm acceptance of grim reality. "But if the Sanctum's Circuit fails, we lose our final bastion, our power source. The region will fall, defenseless against the Blight!"
He scanned the room, eyes hawk-sharp. "In this dire hour, I need all of you to set aside grievances and unite! Find the problem. Solve it!"
A sharp clap echoed. Two Golden Guards entered, carrying a tray veiled in black cloth. Hongbo whipped it away.
A head.
The head of the black-clad Cleric saved by his comrade's 'Energy Feedback' at the Sanctum gate, now taken to the Contemplation Corridor. Preserved, the face was ashen, yet eyes wide open in frozen fixation. Embedded in the forehead was a small, faintly glowing crystal.
"Debate is pointless. I will show you the core of the matter directly." Hongbo placed a hand on the crystal.
Hum—
An invisible wave of energy radiated outward. Air twisted. Light and shadow wove together to project a series of disturbing moving images—the experimental log of the black-clad Cleric's first-person view.
Record – Day 1A lab of cold instruments and energy conduits. In the center, suspended in a transparent container, lay Cecilia. Her red hair floated in viscous energy fluid. Calm, detached narration: "Specimen 'Elysian-Vault-7' integrated. Commencing baseline energy infusion. Attempting to counter Blight obstruction within host."
Record – Day 2Cecilia convulsed violently; gray patterns clashed with golden energy streams. Voice: "Stabilization experiment failed. Counter-energy induces severe rejection. Vitality indices fluctuating. Reducing infusion intensity. Observing adaptation."
Record – Day 3 – Stress Test PhaseA high-energy beam seared her arm. The burned area healed instantly, covered by a surge of viscous, dark energy. The voice wavered: "Anomaly! External trauma stimulates drastic Blight activity! Previously observed 'stability'… a facade?"
The Cleric attempted a high-level purge. A lethal beam struck her chest, blocked effortlessly by an impossibly dense, supreme-tier golden barrier. "…Failure! Specimen protected by unknown supreme-tier energy! Impervious! Forced infusion accelerates spread and evolution of Blight… barrier origin unknown."
The recording cut abruptly.
Deathly silence.
Hongbo withdrew his hand, thunderous. "You have seen. These heretical experiments are insane, profoundly dangerous! They meddled beyond comprehension and have created an indestructible abomination feeding on our power. 'Elysian-Vault-7' is no longer a subject—it is a bomb poised to detonate the Sanctum!"
He slammed his hand onto the armrest, echoing through the hall. "All black-clad heretics, all dangerous experiments must be purged! Immediately! Completely!"
Uproar erupted.
Erika sat, icy and alert. He had glimpsed Cecilia's suffering, understood the danger behind Hongbo's words. That barrier… supreme-tier Auric energy… could it connect to the Sanctum's energy feedback he had felt? Could Cecilia, seen by all as a monster, actually be the fragile keystone, unconsciously protecting the Sanctum?
His gaze flicked from Balthasar's smug back to Hongbo, who had just decreed the purge.
The noose was tightening. Time was running out. And he might be the only one who understood even a fragment of the truth.
The grim atmosphere in the hall, fractured by Balthasar's frenzy, settled into a more sinister, restless energy. As High Priest Hongbo dismissed the assembly, the crowd began to shift like a thawing glacier, but the undercurrents ran deep.
Erika was still reeling from Balthasar's shriek of 'supreme-tier energy' and the visceral horror that followed when the short Cleric, Kaelen, nudged the stoic, silent Wolfgang beside him.
"See?" Kaelen sighed, his voice a low mix of pity and scorn, clearly aimed at the fervent or calculating high-ranking Clerics in the front rows. "Another mess to clean up for our Lord's 'wisdom' incarnate. That last debacle in the 'Boiler' sector... we still owe you for that one..."
His tone then shifted abruptly. Those shrewd eyes slid meaningfully towards Erika, trapped between them, and his lips curled into a semblance of 'friendly' advice that sent a chill down Erika's spine.
"Ah, right. Our young friend here," he murmured, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper that felt anything but comforting. "A word of advice, as a colleague." He gestured subtly with his chin towards Balthasar, where the blindfolded sister was being jerked along by her chain, stumbling after the excited Balthasar.
"You see Balthasar's little 'accessory' over there? Ever wonder why Clerics sent on important missions outside the Sanctum almost always operate in pairs?" He paused, letting his gaze drift pointedly towards Wolfgang's rigid, silent profile. "And then wonder why our immensely capable, seasoned Instructor Wolfgang is always... solo."
"Enough, Kaelen."
A woman's voice, cold and sharp as ice, cut him off. It was the tall female Cleric. Her gaze was a piercing warning aimed directly at Kaelen.
Kaelen shrugged, holding up his hands in a gesture of mock innocence, but his eyes still gleamed with the unspoken message: 'You get it, don't you?'
Wolfgang remained a statue throughout, his features carved from stone. But the faint whitening of his knuckles where his fists were clenched spoke louder than any protest to Erika.
Pairs... Wolfgang alone...
A terrifying hypothesis crystallized in Erika's mind: Were those extra Marks on the torso not just decoration or punishment? Were they... removable 'reserve batteries' or 'amplifiers'? And were clerical pairs not just for mutual support, but so one could serve as a sacrificial 'reserve' for the other in a crisis? What had happened to Wolfgang's former partner?
From the front, Balthasar's voice, shrill with excitement, carried back to them. He seemed to be addressing his small coterie of followers.
"Did you all hear? A massive source! Supreme-tier energy!" he repeated, his hands flailing nervously, the chain rattling and making the sister behind him jerk like a broken puppet. "Eee-hee-hee-hee... This is what we've dreamed of... True... Power!"
He was utterly lost in his own ambition, heedless of the life he had just partially drained behind him.
High Priest Hongbo cast a cold eye over the assembly, their minds now clearly racing in different directions. "Let me be perfectly clear! This operation is classified at the highest level!" he boomed. "The vultures from the Inquisitorial Tribunal have already caught the scent! We must act before anyone—including our 'dear' colleagues—can interfere! That specimen must be dealt with!"
His gaze swept over Balthasar, Wolfgang, and the others. "I don't care if you choose to destroy it, hurl it like a bomb into a Deathbird nest, or if someone has the skill to claim it as a personal 'trophy'..." His voice turned grim. "My only demand is this: Remove the threat from the Sanctum! Preserve the stability of our sector's Eternal Circuit!"
"Detailed briefings and sector authorizations are available in hard copy. Collect them at the entrance. This assembly is dismissed!"
With that, Hongbo turned and strode out, surrounded by his entourage.
The crowd surged towards the exits. Erika was pulled to his feet by Wolfgang's firm, unyielding grip and swept along in the current. His eyes were locked on the entrance, where Clerics were distributing paper folders stamped with top-secret markings.
He knew those thin sheaves of paper held not just the key to Cecilia's fate, but also the darkest secrets of the Sanctum, the shadows of Wolfgang's past, and the shape of Balthasar's crazy future.
He had to get one.