Episode 169

8.

Sanctuary was the saintess's exclusive power. It was the ability that proved she was the only human chosen by God, an absolute authority that could suppress the very source of all evil.

There was a reason people dropped to their knees and prayed. It wasn't just because the ground turned a pure, immaculate white.

The air within the Sanctuary was saturated with divine power. It was, quite literally, God's domain—the domain of holy power.

Ordinary people felt their vitality return just by standing within it, their bodies growing lighter and refreshed as the divine power cleansed all impure energies.

On the other hand, those who wielded black magic could not help but suffer. Even if the saintess who cast the Sanctuary had no intention of harming them, they would feel as if their entire bodies were being set aflame.

Viewed this way, the saintess's earlier claim that good and evil were separated by a paper-thin line could be seen as a contradiction.

If good and evil were truly so similar, and if God truly loved all, then His divine energy would have no reason to reject black magic that posed no threat.

Of course, no one was nitpicking such trivial details. That wasn't what mattered right now.

What mattered was that the Sanctuary had been cast, and the one who had created it was the very Saintess the Temple claimed had walked a forbidden path alongside the imperial Princess.

Anyone with a shred of sense could find the answer.

"I feel fine."

"She's using Sanctuary… Did God really abandon her?"

At the very least, it proved the elder's words were lies.

If the saintess had truly been forsaken by the Temple and abandoned by God, she would never be able to use her power so completely.

More importantly, every single person under a black robe within the Sanctuary was completely unharmed.

Which meant, quite simply, that they had nothing to do with black magic at all.

The mood began to shift in a strange direction.

From the temple's perspective, the elder's words had needlessly created a pretext for their actions.

If the large crowd gathered here were to simply disperse and return home, it was obvious what would happen next.

The truth about the "Black Magic Cult." The truth behind the rumors.

These people might actually be the ones carrying out God's true will.

Contrary to the temple's claims, the saintess and her followers, who supposedly worshiped black magic, had suffered no harm inside the Sanctuary.

If things ended here, it might not become a major problem. They were still a minority, after all, and the temple's influence was vast—strong enough to crush them at any time.

But it is always the small cracks that break the dam.

The Pope himself had officially declared the saintess a fraud, her very existence a lie, and that she had been abandoned by God. If it were revealed that this was untrue, the Temple couldn't simply pass it off as a mistake.

The power of words. For the Temple, where words were synonymous with power, there was no reason to deliberately undermine their own authority.

That was why they failed to judge the situation with cool heads. Especially the elder who had led the Holy Knights.

"Exterminate every last one of these evil fiends!"

He acted as if he had weathered every storm the world could throw at him, lecturing others from a position of supposed wisdom, but age does not grant enlightenment.

If anything, he had been steeped in worldly corruption for longer, had tasted the sweetness of power, and now sat in a position where he could manipulate the Temple as he pleased. For someone like him, a mistake that could send him plummeting into ruin sparked a single, desperate thought: 'I have to cover this up. Now.'

"Aaaagh!"

"P-Please, spare me!"

"The Temple—God's knights are killing commoners!"

"Help us!"

It didn't take long for the Sanctuary to descend into hell.

The inability to use magic was neither a help nor a hindrance to the ordinary people caught in the middle.

The only difference was whether the unarmed would be stabbed to death by armed men or by swords imbued with divine power.

In other words, only one word was needed to describe the scene.

"A massacre…" the saintess murmured, her voice heavy with gloom.

As the Holy Knights advanced at a steady pace, the screams of people struggling to survive mingled with the sounds of methodical, repetitive killing.

The sight of knights in pure white armor slaughtering hundreds of unresisting people made them indistinguishable from demons.

And this was all happening inside the Sanctuary.

In a place filled with God's presence, where His will was supposed to reside, they were mercilessly killing people who were praying to Him.

Red blood soaked the Sanctuary's floor as corpses piled up like mountains.

The Holy Knights didn't spare the bodies a single glance, simply stepping over them.

They had only one goal: the eradication of heresy.

Of course, she understood. Not every Holy Knight agreed with the will of the corrupt Temple.

They knew the people they were cutting down were weak, helpless souls.

They knew these people had no interest in black magic, that they had gathered here clinging to the faint hope of a slightly better life.

Their furrowed brows proved as much. They were disgusted with themselves for what they were doing.

Even so, they continued, because they had already stepped onto a path from which there was no return.

"God, please, have mercy on them!"

In the midst of the slaughter, the saintess raised her voice in prayer once more.

A great rain of divine power poured down again within the Sanctuary.

A transparent wall slammed down, separating the advancing Holy Knights from their prey.

In that brief opening, people scrambled into the ruined village.

It was hardly a shield. The only reason it could even be called a "village" was the remnant of a fence that had once marked its boundary.

Trembling with fear, the people stared anxiously through the transparent wall.

The Holy Knights halted, awaiting orders.

Perhaps they would stop. Perhaps this pointless slaughter would end.

"Break it down!"

But the elder's mind was already made up.

The Holy Knights, their hands already stained with blood, could no longer stop.

Attacks rained down on the wall from all directions.

Even though no one could use divine power or magic in this space, the ferocious blows gradually cracked the divine barrier.

There was nowhere left to run.

The people who had mingled with the black-robed group had now, regardless of their own will, become those who "stood with the Black Magic Cult."

The wall collapsed, and the Holy Knights began to pour through.

It was a moment of pure despair. There was nowhere left to retreat.

"Aaaaargh!"

"Please, spare us! Please!"

Was there anything more unjust than being forced to quietly accept one's own death?

They couldn't resist, couldn't fight back. They could only stand helplessly before overwhelming power, waiting for the end.

Now, they couldn't even run.

The Holy Knights' swords were faster, sharper, and more frenzied than before.

Even when killing an animal, a person's heart wavers when they meet its sorrowful eyes.

How much more so when cutting down people—people who simply stood there, offering no resistance? No one but a true demon could accept such a task easily.

'Let's end this quickly. End it and forget.'

In the Sanctuary, now stained with blood and tears, a quiet song began to echo.

Vmmm.

Divine power surged, pushing the Holy Knights back once more.

Whoosh!

A massive pillar of light erupted from the ground, enveloping the few survivors who remained.

'What is that?'

"S-Stop it! Stop that!"

The elder didn't know what it was, but he sensed it instinctively.

He could not allow that light to fulfill its purpose.

The Holy Knights' steps grew frantic.

Whether they felt guilty or not, they were all in the same boat now.

If survivors remained after all these acts committed in God's name…

They would have to prepare for the worst.

"Dear God. Please…"

With the saintess's desperate plea, a miracle occurred.

Flash!

The pillar of light swallowed the people whole.

The few remaining survivors and the black-robed members of the "Black Magic Cult" vanished without a trace.

A stunned silence fell over the blood-soaked ground. All that remained were countless corpses and the hollow, empty stares of the knights.

The elder collapsed where he stood.

* * *

The truth could not be hidden.

"That is the truth. Look at what those who blindly worship the name of God are doing. Do you still believe you are in the right?"

A heavy silence met his question.

In the end, the saintess had returned. Not to make a final decision, but to make one last judgment.

She had believed it wouldn't be this bad, that the Temple couldn't have rotted this far.

She had believed some self-correcting force remained, and she had come here to fan the flames of that hope, praying there would be no need for extreme measures.

She had also wanted to use this to prove that Kim Buja was wrong.

But in coming here, she was the one who had been forced to realize the truth.

The Temple of today was not the Temple she had known.

The hope that the rotten leadership might be purified and changed had vanished the moment she saw the Holy Knights mercilessly cutting down powerless, unresisting people to protect their own interests.

In fact, they were the greater problem, the true evil, the root of the decay.

They justified their actions by claiming they had no choice.

The power God had given them to stand against injustice had instead surrendered to authority, compromised with death, and become a blade turned against the powerless.

No, it wasn't just pointed at them—it was being swung without mercy.

Even if the commoners had truly been incited by an evil like black magic, the temple's duty was to guide them to repentance and lead them back to the right path.

"I am sorry."

After bowing her head for a long time, the saintess finally lifted her face, her expression firm as she apologized.

It was both a resolution and a transformation.

It was the turning point where her fundamental trust and values—things that had not wavered even at the word "God"—had shifted in an instant.

Or perhaps they hadn't changed at all. Perhaps this was a new resolve to protect those very values.

Either way, it didn't matter.

"I will do it."

"If you're going to half-ass it and quit midway, I don't need you."

"I won't."

"You might have to do things even worse than what they've done."

The saintess remained silent.

"I'm not like those hypocrites. If you think you can win this with some noble, clean approach, then go ahead and try. Just do it alone. Don't drag us down while we're putting our lives on the line."

Kim Buja still didn't need the saintess. His goal wasn't simply to bring down the Temple.

This was just one step along the way.

His final destination was the entire continent.

If she wanted to board his ship, she would have to pay the price.

And the price Kim Buja demanded from the saintess was nothing more than her resolve.

"Seria."

As the saintess continued to struggle with her decision, the imperial Princess approached her.

Her resolute eyes didn't waver in the slightest, even after watching hundreds of innocent people—her former subjects—die before her.

"Everyone dies. What matters is who survives, right?"

It wasn't just that she had already endured countless tragedies. It was because she had steeled her heart.

He could see that just by watching her.

"If you're afraid, then just watch over us. If not for yourself, then do it for me."

Memories surfaced of the time the saintess had betrayed the princess to act on her own beliefs.

The saintess nodded.

At the same time, Kim Buja spoke.

"Then let's get started."

He had searched and agonized over countless methods. How could he best use the gold he possessed? How could he use it most efficiently?

He had even been tempted to unlock "Soul Release: Stage 7" and shoot another blockbuster action film, crushing the Holy Knights with overwhelming martial might.

But there was one reason he had held back.

The "Black Magic Cult" didn't need a "Demon King" who could single-handedly fight and defeat the entire continent.

"It takes hundreds, even thousands of years to build something, but only a moment to bring it all crashing down."

* * *

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