The Cultists' Afternoon

October 19, 1453, New Calendar.

Afternoon.

The abandoned theater.

Half of the theater still retained the crumbling walls of the ancient structure, while the other half—the area that had been directly erased by a mere glance from Hiso’s historical projection—was now forcibly concealed by a layer of a mana barrier emitting a cheap purple light and a crude illusion formation.

From the inside, the erased load-bearing walls, spectator seats, and the dome appeared translucent due to the illusion. They flickered from time to time like a television screen with a bad connection, revealing the gloomy sky outside.

However, this was enough to deceive Class-holders who possessed no Mana.

Inside the theater, the New Moon Cultists gathered in groups of twos and threes, the atmosphere heavy and stifling.

They had been here for a full day and night.

Modi had yet to announce the end of the meeting.

Yesterday, they had come to celebrate the birth of a new Bishop.

But even now, their new Bishop had yet to appear.

With dark circles under his eyes, Modi paced back and forth at the edge of the stage like a trapped beast.

He gripped his cane tightly, occasionally glancing up at the massive hole hidden by the illusion.

He had stayed awake here for an entire night without a drop of water. The events that had transpired yesterday—the ancient ritual capable of summoning a terrifying existence, the half of the theater erased in a single strike, the two Bishop candidates who had fled, and the Moon Goddess who had descended only to vanish...

Any one of these things was enough to fill an ordinary cultist’s nightmares for a lifetime.

The Goddess had gone to pursue the Saintess.

The Saintess, whom he had recommended.

What was the result?

Modi did not dare to speculate on the intentions of a deity.

But as recorded in the scriptures, the Moon Goddess was a majestic existence who embodied benevolence, wisdom, power, and omniscience, knowing both the ancient and the modern.

If the Saintess he had rashly recommended had somehow offended the Goddess...

Modi’s hair had practically turned white from the stress.

He didn't dare disturb Sophie, nor did he even dare to send a message to inquire.

He could only pace in his anxiety.

On the other side of the theater, the atmosphere was entirely different.

The noble benefactors and High-tier Mages who supported Elizabeth were huddled in a dark corner, whispering to one another.

A soundproofing barrier was active.

Beneath their extravagant robes, they concealed a state of extreme panic.

Having witnessed the arrival of the god they worshipped yesterday, they felt a profound sense of unease.

As members of Elizabeth’s faction, most were the noblewoman’s confidants rather than ordinary believers.

Their backbone was gone.

Up until this moment, they had still not received a Message from their mistress.

No sign of her alive, no body found.

With her status unknown, it meant she was dead.

“We can’t keep waiting like this!” a mage wearing a monocle whispered, his teeth gritted. “That old fox Modi is definitely plotting how to swallow our resources. Once that damn Saintess returns, we’ll be like meat on a chopping block!”

“Then what do we do? Flee?” A portly noble merchant beside him wiped away cold sweat. “But outside...”

“Fleeing makes it easy for us to be picked off one by one. I’ve received word that the rumored Hero has already entered Solitude and might be operating nearby.” A ruthless glint flashed in the monocle mage’s eyes. “Rather than sitting here waiting for death, why don’t we just flip the table? We’ll lure the Hero here by saying there’s a cultist gathering. Once things get chaotic, we’ll take the opportunity to escape!”

“How do we lure her? Do you have her message sigil?”

“Just scream for help loudly. That’s what everyone who’s been saved by the Hero says.”

“Isn’t that too risky? What if the Hero cuts us down along with the rest?” The merchant shrank back.

“There’s a backup plan.” Another mage pulled a parchment scroll sealed with special wax from his sleeve. “Lady Elizabeth is a member of ‘that family.’ I’ve already sent a plea for help. The letter is addressed to her main house in the capital, telling them that Elizabeth has encountered danger here. Those truly terrifying ‘superior existences’ will naturally come to settle the score with Modi and that fake Saintess!”

“You’re insane! Don’t you know what kind of existences that family are? We’ll all be turned into blood servants!”

“That’s still better than being dead, isn’t it?”

Just as they were in the middle of their tense discussion, a clear set of footsteps echoed from outside the theater.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound of small deerskin boots stepping on gravel and scorched earth was neither hurried nor slow.

Modi stopped abruptly and whipped his head around.

Amidst a flurry of fine, shimmering illusionary particles, Sophie slowly stepped through the massive hole and entered the theater.

The red-eyed, white-haired girl walked with a casual stride, wearing a small top hat as she strolled through the mana barrier into the theater.

All discussion ceased.

The eyes of every cultist involuntarily focused on her.