The next morning, the central high platform in the plaza before the lord's manor was covered with intricate magic runes. The intersecting lines gleamed with a dull, metallic luster in the morning light.
The commoners gathered from all sides of the plaza, their dark mass packing the stone steps and the edges of the open space.
Those standing in the front rows conversed in hushed tones, their words like pebbles dropped into water, slowly rippling outward through the crowd.
“Isn't the Blood-Bestowal Ceremony usually private? What's going on this time?”
“Hmph, it's probably because those knights want to humiliate the Saintess.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you hear about the conflict in the slums yesterday? That newly arrived knight was oppressing the poor, and the Saintess stood up to speak for them. Now that knight holds a grudge against her!”
“The Church of the Morning Light really deserves to die! And those knights are no different!”
Although these voices were very quiet, the Church Knights on the high platform all had mana levels of Rank Three or Four, so they naturally heard everything loud and clear. However, Seth simply couldn't be bothered to pay them any mind.
In his eyes, these people were no different from dogs. Just because some dogs barked, did he have to bark back?
The most important thing was to discipline the owner.
With this thought, he continued to set up the magic runes on the high platform. Croy and Garnal also chose to ignore the crowd, though for entirely different reasons.
Croy felt there was no need to pay them any attention because he would soon be torturing the Saintess, making these people feel agony. Garnal, on the other hand, felt ashamed.
He had always felt that Church Knights shouldn't be like this.
Gale stood toward the front of the crowd, staring at the back of the figure on the platform clad in silver-gray light armor. His right hand trembled slightly, instinctively drifting toward the hilt of the sword at his waist.
Beside him, Marcus, the lord of the territory, noticed his reaction and asked with some concern:
“Gale? What's wrong?”
Gale took a deep breath, nodding toward that figure. “That guy... do you remember him?”
Marcus followed his gaze. After a moment, he recognized the silhouette.
“Is he the knight who cut off your arm back then?”
“Yes, that's him,” Gale said. “I just didn't expect him to actually dare show his face here.”
Marcus grabbed his wrist.
“Gale, you mustn't act rashly. He is currently the knight presiding over the Blood-Bestowal Ceremony. Even if you want to settle your differences, you must at least wait until after the ceremony is over.”
Hearing this, Gale shook his head.
“Differences? I've already let it go. The Saintess was right; there's no need for me to degrade myself for that fickle woman. As long as he doesn't provoke me, I won't go looking for trouble with him.”
His emotional knot had long been untied. What he valued now was his future.
It would be a new life.
“That's good. Keeping the peace within the territory is what's most important right now.”
Marcus nodded. He knew Gale's character well; since Gale had spoken, he would keep his word. He also knew that Gale had truly let go of the past.
On the high platform, the final rune was infused with mana.
Guided by the mana, the lines slowly lit up, spreading from the edges toward the center and taking on a bizarre, dark-red glow.
The sunlight falling upon the runes seemed partially absorbed by them, reflecting only fragmented specks of light.
Seth straightened his back, closed his eyes, and pressed his hands together. His voice carried a strange, penetrating quality, causing the surrounding chatter to gradually die down.
“The Mark of the Covenant, the Steps of the Return. All those who are chosen must bear witness with their blood...”
As he chanted, Lovene, clad in a white robe, slowly ascended the high platform.
She glanced at the magic runes glowing with a dark-red light, then stepped forward and knelt at the circular marker in the center of the ritual.
When her knees touched the runes, the light of the lines seemed to suffer a slight disturbance, flickering briefly before resuming its flow.
Seth continued to chant. After three minutes, he opened his eyes, raised his head, and held his hands high.
“Great Lord, cast Your gaze down and scrutinize every drop of blood temporarily resting here! This is Your devout believer, at the end of the return journey, lighting a lamp for You with her bloodline!”
The moment his words fell, the dark-red patterns on the ground began to flow in a new direction. A bizarre golden light, like tiny streams seeping from the surface of the runes, crawled along specific paths toward Lovene in the center of the ritual.
They were like vines, slowly wrapping around her ankles, then creeping up her legs and gradually tightening.
The surface of these glowing vines was covered in fine, luminous thorns, resembling the silhouette of rose stems. Once Lovene was completely bound, those thorns began to pierce her skin.
Her body tensed slightly, and patches of dark-red stains gradually seeped onto her white holy robe as blood flowed frantically from her skin.
Aside from the bleeding, the spikes piercing her flesh brought Lovene immense pain. She bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from making a sound, her breathing becoming exceptionally shallow and rapid, as though she had fallen gravely ill.
In the blink of an eye, she was covered in blood.
The silence below the platform grew heavy at this moment, yet amid the quiet, voices still began to emerge from the crowd.
“Damn it! I heard there are many ways to perform the Blood-Bestowal Ceremony, and this is the most brutal one! The Church usually uses this method to punish disobedient Saintesses!”
“A disobedient Saintess? The Saintess was clearly protecting us!”
“It's those damned knights! They're absolute beasts!”
Zane's sister stood at the front of the crowd. Looking at the blood-drenched Lovene, her face turned pale and her pupils trembled slightly.
“It was a lie... The Saintess said they wouldn't punish her, but it was a lie... It's because of me. Because of me, the Saintess is suffering this abuse...”
Beside her, Zane grabbed her hand, squeezing it in his palm. Suppressing his anger, he shook his head and said:
“Sister, this has nothing to do with you. It's those knights. They are the bad guys.”
Mia stood at the side of the high platform and closed her eyes, choosing not to watch. However, her breathing was shallower than usual, and she was ready at any moment to strike and kill these knights.
When Gale looked up from below, his gaze inadvertently met Seth's.
Seth's gaze moved from Gale's face to his newly regenerated right hand, pausing for a moment in faint surprise. Soon, however, the corners of his mouth twitched, revealing a mocking expression.
Gale did not get angry at this. He merely narrowed his eyes, his thoughts unreadable.
Croy stood on the other side of the high platform. As his eyes swept across the silent faces below, the resentful glares only made the corners of his mouth curl upward uncontrollably.
If it weren't for the requirement to maintain solemnity during the ritual, he probably would have burst out laughing long ago.
Rate on N.U.
