episode_0065

“Grrrr…”

The mysterious men glared at Christine and Cecilia like wild beasts.

Their faces and ages were indiscernible behind masks and flowing white cloaks, but the crimson glow emanating from behind their masks was unmistakably sinister.

“Sis. These people…”

“Yes, it seems so. Even if they’re protecting Fairchild… I never imagined they’d resort to methods like this.”

“Using evil to catch evil. A tale as old as time, isn’t it?”

Cecilia clicked her tongue lightly at Christine’s words. After all, there was no surer way to keep Fairchild contained than this.

“So they’re guards and watchers rolled into one. Their security’s thorough, I’ll give them that.”

“What would Oppa say if he knew? After all the trouble we went through to capture that monster, they’re bending over backward to exploit it like this.”

Eric had never seen Fairchild imprisoned.

The only time he’d faced it was when the Church lost control, and it rampaged through the streets.

“It was a calamity…”

“And what’s in front of us now is no different. So, what’ll it be? Just kill them all?”

“I think we can spare one or two. If we’re lucky, we might even extract some information—”

“No point. Those things are already too far gone. Unless you plan on playing nursemaid, they won’t even be able to string a sentence together.”

“Like what happened in the streets?”

Fairchild was never a powerful monster. No, calling it a “monster” was a stretch to begin with. It was merely an existence born from the coalesced grudges of those sacrificed by the Church.

At first, it was a small, feeble thing. A minor threat—one that would vanish with just a little care and love.

“Gyaaah!”

One of the masked men, unable to hold back any longer, lunged violently at Christine. To an ordinary person, his speed would’ve been untraceable, but Christine remained unfazed.

“See? Told you we should just kill them all.”

Just before the man’s razor-sharp claws could reach her, Christine cleanly severed his head.

Thud—!

With a dull sound, the headless body crumpled to its knees.

“Pretty weak for zealots. Are they really brainwashed?”

“You can tell by those red eyes. Fairchild’s abilities now are nothing like before.”

“Then let’s unmask one. That’ll clear things up.”

“Gladly.”

As if the first man’s death had been a signal, the remaining masked zealots charged in unison.

“Hmph.”

Christine dodged their relentless attacks with minimal movement, her steps fluid. Most strikes didn’t even graze her, and the few that found openings were effortlessly blocked by barriers she’d already laid.

“Grrk—!”

“Hey, about that unmasking? These guys are getting faster.”

“Just a moment. The mask’s fused to the skin—hup!”

With a small grunt, Cecilia effortlessly peeled the mask off the severed head.

“…Just as I thought.”

“Who is it? I don’t recognize them!”

“Priest Barney. I thought he was executed after his abuse scandal came to light, but here he is.”

“Barney? That deranged pedophile?”

“His skills were undeniable. Guess they found a better use for him than burying him in the ground.”

“Ah, so he got a permanent job? How convenient.”

Christine scoffed as she bisected another charging zealot.

“Ah! If you kill them like this, we can’t identify them!”

“What do you expect me to do when they’re lunging at me?!”

“If you’re going to kill them, at least do it neatly!”

“Easier said than done!”

Though she grumbled, Christine had no trouble deflecting the zealots’ attacks. To her, it was just doing the same job twice. And before long—

“Two left!”

One unlucky zealot, having closed the distance, was split in half—not vertically, but horizontally.

“Perfect!”

“Who’s this one?”

“Tucker, a 2nd-class Inquisitor. The man who abandoned his faith for torture.”

“Oh, him… Well, that settles it, then?”

“Yes. Kill them all. There’s no information to gain here.”

“Perfect!”

Cecilia suggested cold-blooded slaughter, and Christine accepted without hesitation.

In a battlefield where ordinary people would struggle to even stand, the two conversed casually.

Had any other Academy students been here, they wouldn’t have lasted a second against the zealots—let alone kept their sanity witnessing this carnage. No matter how realistic their training, it could never compare to the real thing.

And as Cecilia and Christine had predicted, Fairchild’s zealots were all corrupt Church elites.

“Fighting well in life only to be exploited in death. Almost pitiable.”

“Really? Considering what they’ve done, I don’t feel an ounce of sympathy.”

“True. That kind of soft thinking doesn’t suit us anyway.”

Swish—!

Christine’s hand sliced through the air, cleaving another zealot in two.

“Ugh. Blood splatter.”

The two standing here had already endured hells worse than this. To them, killing was just another necessity.

Regret over failing to protect Eric outweighed any guilt for taking lives. Fear of his complaints outweighed any dread of future retribution.

“Was Fairchild always this strong? It hasn’t even emerged yet!”

“It’s not that Fairchild is strong—it’s the hosts. These were already people who lived without restraint, indulging their desires. Now they’re like newborns, with no limits left.”

“Fair point. Ah, this is the last one.”

With a final thrust, Christine pierced the last zealot’s chest, then flicked her hand clean.

“Whew. Feels like the blood’s rushing to my head after a fight like this.”

“If you’d like, I can arrange a spar anytime.”

“That’s not a spar—it’s a death match.”

“Let’s keep moving.”

“Be ready. Unless you want to strip naked and throw yourself at Eric the moment we see him.”

“Look who’s talking.”

When Fairchild was unleashed, the Empire descended into chaos—but its power wasn’t mind control.

The name “zealot” was just what its victims called themselves.

Its ability was as innocent as a child’s wish.

“By the way, how did Fairchild come to be?”

Walking past the zealots’ corpses down the long corridor, Christine finally asked.

“Hard to say. From our perspective, it just… appeared one day. It manifested in the Church’s relic vault out of nowhere.”

“So the Church knew nothing?”

“Unlikely. If anything, they understood it best. Had they nurtured it, it could’ve been a miracle—a new dream for all. Instead, they ruined it.”

Cecilia’s voice carried icy fury beneath its regret.

“Fairchild’s power is wish fulfillment, right? How’s that salvation?”

“Huh? Didn’t they explain it to you?”

“No. All I know is that it’s huge, grotesque, and turns people into idiots.”

“Ah…”

“Last cycle, Oppa suddenly called me, and the capital was a warzone. Spent the whole time cleaning up that mess.”

“That’s not what it was supposed to be.”

“Then explain. We’ll probably run into more zealots, so let’s get this straight.”

“Fine.”

Cecilia cleared her throat and began calmly.

“Fairchild… though its form may suggest otherwise, is undeniably a miracle. A different kind from the relics, but a miracle nonetheless.”

“And?”

“When it first manifested, I was undergoing Saintess training and never encountered it. By the time I returned, it was already too late.”

“Skip the excuses. If it doesn’t dumb people down, what does it do?”

“It helps them find their dreams.”

“Dreams?”

“Aspirations, ideals—call it what you will. Fairchild sees the desires of those who face it and guides them toward fulfillment.”

“So it motivates people?”

“Yes. It gives courage to those too hesitant to confess, solutions to those facing impossible challenges.”

“And they threw that away? Let it get so bad the Saintess had to destroy it?”

“You think I hate the Church and the gods for no reason?”

“Point taken.”

Nodding, Christine dispatched another zealot as Cecilia silently replenished her mana.