Ch.6464. People Waiting for the End (5)

As I approached closer.

Bishop Andre gave such a hand signal. The last person entered the brewery, and the brewery door closed firmly. The brewery was situated in a relatively open plain. There was nowhere to hide nearby except for a collapsed grain storage. The bishop leaned against the fallen wall and looked at the brewery.

Creeeeak.

It was the sound of the brewery’s back door opening. Someone holding a book was entering the brewery. Probably a doomsday worshipper and their preacher. And most likely the “teacher” that woman had mentioned. The back door slowly closed as he entered, and the scattered gazes of the people became one, focusing on the preacher.

“Thank you for gathering here again today, brothers and sisters.”

The preacher stood on the platform and looked around the brewery.

“I see more brothers have joined us since our last meeting. This is a very desirable phenomenon. I’m glad to see that you seem to be steadily spreading the teachings to your families and friends, as I instructed.”

Thud.

The preacher placed the book he had brought onto the platform.

“Then, for those who are here for the first time, I will start the story from the beginning today.”

Flip. The sound of pages turning could be heard.

“The end is inevitable. It cannot be stopped, nor can it be denied.”

The preacher’s face was not visible. The worshippers sat in rows on the floor of the brewery, which was immersed in pitch-black darkness without a single candle. Bishop Andre narrowed his eyes, but even with his keen senses, he could not see the preacher’s face. As if under the protection of darkness itself, a thick shadow was cast over the preacher’s face.

“We are born from darkness and return to darkness. That too is an end. Everything has its end, and we need not fear it. Because everyone will eventually reach that point. The end is never negative. It is not frightening. We need to open our hearts and accept the end. So that we can face the end at any time.”

The preacher’s voice was solemn and persuasive. A sense of pressure that seemed to encompass the audience. The preacher continued speaking in a monotone voice, as if stating the obvious.

“We call it the natural order. And that end is approaching us in the form of what people call calamities. Calamities are not objects of fear. They are apostles of the end, a fate that we must open our hearts to and accept.”

The preacher spread his hands wide, pushing them forward as if opening his chest wide. It wasn’t a particularly impressive logic. But that tone, the movements that seemed like acting, and the crowd psychology of the focused people were hammering the preacher’s words into the residents’ minds.

“But what do you think? Those who call themselves followers of the light outside are rejecting our fate. Babbling that praying will make things better. So tell me, what has that prayer actually improved? Has it brought back the dead? If not, has it made your lost lands rise above the water again?”

As he spoke, the preacher pointed at one of the residents. The singled-out resident shook his head.

“Nothing… at all.”

“Exactly. In the end, all we received was an eviction order and news that Evernode had avoided the calamity. Then why did only we have to end up like this? Why did only we have to lose our homeland, lose our families, and be left behind?”

Thump. The preacher slammed his hand down on the platform. A kind of exhilaration crept into his increasingly raised voice.

“It’s because we were chosen! We were chosen as apostles to deny that false god of light and church, and to return this world to where it should be! To experience the end and reveal the bare face of a world where the end has come!”

Should I kill him?

Bishop Andre’s eyes flashed as he gripped the hidden dagger in his cloak. He could kill him now if he wanted to. He could also kill those who sympathized with him in the front row. Or he could capture him and inflict such pain that he would beg to be killed instead. The preacher’s nonsense brushed past the bishop’s ears.

“The world is so chaotic. Humans are filthy beings. That’s why we must let go of human filth. Anger, sadness, irritation! We must discard everything that makes us filthy beings. And open our hearts to embrace the end.”

The variables of immediate action. Their strength was unknown. He couldn’t recklessly make a move. He didn’t know how many demon worshippers were hiding among them.

“We will be eternal with the end. Those who avoid the end will eventually face an even more terrible end. Our pain will disappear, and the world will know and experience our pain together.”

The sound of turning pages was heard again.

“Now, let us wait. Under the pentagram, let us wait and pray.”

People folded their hands. The bishop muttered and recited a prayer. It had a wicked form that could not be called human language. More like an evil spell than a prayer. Bishop Andre shook his head to clear away the sound that seemed to tear through his mind.

“What should we do?”

Bishop Andre shook his head at the inquisitor’s question. A frontal confrontation at night was dangerous. Even if the enemy couldn’t win, the darkness all around provided too favorable an environment for him to escape.

“We need to find a clue that leads to the root of these people. We can’t let a moment of anger ruin all of this. Let’s organize the information we’ve collected today and start a full-scale investigation with Isis tomorrow.”

People began to disperse. The sky gradually cleared, casting moonlight. People left the brewery with expressions as if immersed in a dream. The preacher had already melted into the shadows and disappeared.

“Before the hostility toward the Blue Orthodox Church intensifies.”

Those bastards must be caught and killed.

==

I couldn’t sleep. I sat up, making the old church bed creak. George was sound asleep. I picked up the Holy Sword leaning beside the bed and got up.

“[What’s the matter?]”

“Just can’t sleep.”

I strapped on the Holy Sword and opened the bedroom door. As I passed through the corridor and entered the nave, the air felt stuffy. One side of the church door was broken. The wind came and went through the broken door. The wind here seemed unfree even at dawn. Without moonlight, the night was very dark.

“[You haven’t been able to sleep well lately. How are you feeling?]”

“I’m fine. I’m okay. I wasn’t one to sleep much anyway.”

I could stay up for a night or so. I stood at the end of the nave with my eyes wide open. Isis was sitting quietly on the farthest pew. She turned her head to look at me as she stared blankly at the crucifix relief.

“Ilroy.”

Isis called my name softly. I stared at her for a moment, then slowly walked toward the pew where she was sitting. I sat on the adjacent pew across the nave’s aisle. Isis turned her head to follow me.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“…I see.”

The pew was cold. I placed the Holy Sword on my lap and looked up at the ceiling. The church ceiling was high. Hidden in darkness, it resembled the night sky.

“I couldn’t sleep either.”

I looked at Isis. She was looking at me with a desperate expression. But I couldn’t give her the words she wanted to hear. Because I wasn’t Ilroy.

“About the village residents.”

I changed the subject.

“It seems the doomsday faith has deeply penetrated the residents. There are still some who haven’t been affected, but…”

I said this while thinking of the man from the village.

“Be careful.”

It probably wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Isis frantically reached out her hand toward me, then placed it back on her knee and buried her head. I didn’t leave my seat. But I didn’t offer words of comfort either. What she needed now wasn’t comfort. Comfort would only dig into her guilt.

“…Yes.”

After a long while, Isis responded to my warning to be careful.

==

Come to think of it, the weather in Barktins always seemed to be unpleasant. Isis felt the damp morning air and tightened her garments. Today was her turn to go with Aryen and Bishop Andre for a full-scale investigation of the village.

“The villagers still remember you, Isis. They might still feel grateful to you.”

The bishop looked down at Isis as he spoke. Isis clenched her fist and nodded. She hadn’t steeled her resolve. But she had to do what she could.

“We may need to hurry. We need to catch the tail of the doomsday worship before we have no choice but to round up all the people in this village.”

The village had shrunk since Isis’s visit. Isis could remember most of the faces of the people she had healed. But fortunately or unfortunately, not many people who had been treated by Isis remained. Occasionally, those who recognized the saint would come, bow their heads, and disappear.

The stench was worse than before. But her ears weren’t as troubled as before. Because no crying or lamentations could be heard.

“They seem to have already fallen deep.”

Aryen muttered. The abnormal peace was more frightening than chaos. The scenery remained the same, but daily life continued with only the expressions of the people having changed.

“How can we…”

At that moment, someone approached Isis with hurried steps. Bishop Andre recognized her and furrowed his brow. It was the woman who had guided them during their last visit.

“Saint.”

Isis met her gaze and opened her eyes wide. Isis remembered the woman. She was the woman who had come to her with a child whose arm had been severed and was experiencing phantom pain.

“…Madam. Have you been well?”

The woman nodded with a smile at Isis’s greeting.

“Yes. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see the saint who healed my legs again. What brings you here? And with the magistrate…”

The woman turned her head toward Bishop Andre. The bishop shrugged and spoke.

“I heard that the villagers had found peace, so she came to visit again.”

“Ah, I see.”

The woman nodded and let out an empty exclamation.

“Yes. My child is fine now too. The saint would be so pleased to see how well our child has recovered.”

The child has recovered? Isis wore a puzzled expression. Beside Isis, Aryen was contorting his face into a fierce frown. Phantom pain in amputated limbs was not something that could be healed even by a saint’s magic. She could only pour out magic to alleviate the pain.

“Ah, I’ve been wanting to repay you, Saint. Would you like to come to our home? So you can greet our child too.”

Isis turned her head toward Bishop Andre, and the bishop nodded as if they should definitely go.

“Of course. Saint?”

“…Yes. Gladly.”

She had a bad feeling. Isis couldn’t shake the thought that she shouldn’t see the woman’s child. But regardless of her ominous premonition, her footsteps were already following the woman into the deep alleys of the village.

The deeper they went into the alley, the stronger the stench became. The woman, leading the way, never looked back. She stopped in front of a shack. There was no nameplate, or rather, no door at all. The woman gestured for them to wait a moment, and Isis, the bishop, and Aryen looked at the house barely big enough for four people and sighed.

“Hey, the saint is here. Come out and greet her.”

They could hear the woman calling her child. Isis’s heart began to race with tension.

Thud, thud.

The approaching footsteps were two sets. It was strange. The woman was speaking to the child repeatedly, but they couldn’t hear the child responding even once. As everyone exchanged glances at this dissonance, the woman approached the doorway with the child.

“What do you think, Saint? All healed up nicely, right?”

Isis’s racing heart sank with a thud. She remembered the face of the boy who had cried out for help. And she remembered his severed right arm.

“…”

The boy was no longer in pain. He didn’t open his mouth. No, he wasn’t in a state where he could open his mouth. Isis forgot even to breathe at the sight of his transformed appearance.

Arm. In place of the boy’s severed right arm, “something” was attached. From that “something,” very slowly, something like black flesh was growing and consuming the right half of the boy’s body. Covering half of his face and even blocking his mouth.

“He looks a bit awkward now, but I was told he’ll completely return to his original form soon! Like a chrysalis before becoming a butterfly. Isn’t it amazing?”

Without paying any attention to the group’s reaction, the woman excitedly raised her voice.

“This is all thanks to the ‘teacher’.”

The woman’s eyes, looking at Isis, were as empty as last night’s sky.