Frisland, Northern Main Continent.
Late at night, the capital city of Frisland, the populous Aransdel, was wrapped in hushed silence. In the pitch-dark city, over a million citizens remained unconscious, and above the silent metropolis, immense spiritual forces were clashing in the sky.
In the dark of night, Kramar, clad in solemn and ornate priestly robes, flew swiftly through the sky with illusory wings spread from his back, his expression stern. Amanda followed not far behind, likewise bearing radiant phantom wings. Her cardinal’s robe fluttered violently in the night wind.
Earlier, after a brief clash aboard the Sacred Law Judicator, Kramar had broken away and flown alone toward another part of Aransdel, seemingly intending to use the moment to rain divine judgment down upon the slumbering populace. In response, Amanda had left the Annihilation Nun to keep the flagship occupied, and rushed after him.
During the ensuing pursuit, Kramar and Amanda exchanged several blows and eventually reached another section of the city sky.
Amanda, staring intently at Kramar’s back, used her abilities to stir all the latent ailments and internal wounds in his body. Kramar spat a mouthful of blood.
“I serve the Lord who restrains the sword; no blade may be raised against me…”
With a whisper from the soul, Kramar invoked sacred law to grant himself high resistance to Amanda’s Chalice powers. For a moment, the influence of her afflictions was greatly diminished, and Kramar immediately counterattacked.
“People of Aransdel, ye who are tainted by the blood of the evil gods, by unclean rites and corrupt flesh, ye bear grave sin. By command of the Holy Father—receive purification, and be cleansed of all guilt…”
His soul-speech echoed across the sky above Aransdel, not directed at Amanda, but at the sleeping citizens below. Though unconscious, their souls would still hear this judgment and die from it.
With the reach of his divine voice, Kramar’s judgment was poised to kill two to three hundred thousand people outright. But before the effect could take hold, Amanda acted.
“By command of the Blessed Mother of Mercy… let all the sins and calamities of the world fall upon me alone…
“The innocent bear no guilt… I alone am to blame…”
With a whispered prayer, Amanda activated the pinnacle of the Path of Redemption. In an instant, she redirected all harm—of any form—within a vast area onto herself. She bore the judgment meant for hundreds of thousands of people.
As the soul-level wounds were redirected to Amanda, she used her ability to materialize soul damage into physical form, forcing her body to bear it.
In a flash, countless small wounds burst open across every inch of Amanda’s skin. Even her internal organs and muscles suffered minute tears, as if her entire body would dissolve into pulp. But within half a second, those injuries began to heal—as if they had never existed.
Just two or three seconds later, the flickering wounds on Amanda’s body had completely vanished. After taking and healing the fatal wounds meant for hundreds of thousands, she flew toward Kramar at full speed, looking no worse for wear. Not even a drop of blood stained her robes, though her face had paled slightly.
“How many times do you intend to stop me, Olivia?!”
Seeing his judgment thwarted again, Kramar roared in fury. Amanda answered sternly:
“Wake up, Vambas! You’ve fallen into the Nether Coffin’s trap! Stop this meaningless purge!”
“Stay out of my way!”
Kramar snarled over his shoulder, then halted in mid-air to begin gathering power for a larger-scale judgment ritual. Amanda seized the opportunity, accelerated, and launched herself upward. With a powerful kick, she struck Kramar squarely in the chest.
Kramar raised his extraordinary staff to block her strike but was still hurled higher into the sky by the impact.
“Gh…!”
Struggling in the air, Kramar flapped his phantom wings to slow his ascent. But just as he stabilized, Amanda rocketed up from below again—her arm wrapped in brilliant radiance—and landed another powerful punch.
Forced to defend once more, Kramar used his staff to block. With a loud crack, he was sent flying upward again. Amanda kept close behind.
Her goal was to repeatedly knock Kramar farther away from Aransdel, preventing him from reaching the citizens with his divine judgments.
At this moment, Kramar technically only possessed half his soul. Amanda could certainly defeat him. But because their goals differed, she had fought passively up to this point.
Kramar’s objective was to purify Aransdel. He didn’t need to defeat Amanda. Just survive while unleashing wide-range judgments upon the city.
Amanda’s goal, however, was to protect Aransdel. Defeating Kramar was secondary. So every time he launched an area-wide attack, she had to absorb it entirely with her redemptive powers—essentially “taking the hit to the face” each time.
Until now, Amanda had been forced into a passive position. Kramar was effectively holding a million civilians hostage. But now that she’d found a chance, she began forcefully driving him out of the combat zone.
Her intention was to push Kramar far enough that his soul-speech could no longer reach Aransdel, then defeat him completely.
…
Beneath the night sky of Aransdel, the battle raged far above, beyond the reach of ordinary eyes. Yet another conflict played out within the heart of the silent city, in the cathedral district of the Requiem Cathedral.
Atop the broad rooftop of one of its buildings, the confrontation between Vania and Sinclair had long since begun and was now locked in a stalemate.
On opposite sides of the rooftop, Vania and Sinclair crouched or sat, both drenched in sweat and panting heavily. Their faces showed signs of strain. They were each bearing immense pressure.
“Hah… hah… Let me go… Sister Vania…”
Sinclair gasped, as if enduring intense pain. On the other side, Vania spoke with difficulty.
“This… is impossible…”
After several short rounds of fighting, they had entered a deadlock. Vania had torn open Sinclair’s internal wounds, leaving her in agony and unable to move. Meanwhile, Sinclair had used sacred law to place numerous restrictions on Vania, preventing her from using her powers freely to finish Sinclair off and limiting her mobility.
Their overlapping abilities had reached a tenuous balance, but such equilibrium would not last long. In true battle, one-on-one fairness is a fantasy. Outside interference was bound to tip the scales.
“Seize her!”
At Sinclair’s command, figures began vaulting onto the rooftop from every direction. They wore varied clothing and radiated extraordinary auras. Some wielding icy blades, some commanding ghostly swarms, some bearing venomous gazes or beast-like deformities.
These were followers of the Nether Coffin Order—Sinclair’s personal subordinates. Many were White Ash-rank Beyonders, and they were now here to assist.
At Sinclair’s signal, they launched their attack: ice spikes flew, curses were cast through ritual mediums, ghosts were summoned to possess targets. Vania, still suppressed, suddenly found herself in grave danger.
But just then, strands of glowing red spiritual thread suddenly shot from Vania’s body, spiraling around her and expanding outward across the rooftop battlefield. Many of the Nether Coffin Order’s Beyonders were instantly struck by the threads—and drastic changes followed.
Those touched by the red lines suddenly found invisible threads connected to their bodies. Their attacks halted, and in a heartbeat, they turned and began attacking their own allies.
Several Nether Coffin’s Beyonders were taken down by surprise backstabs. Ghosts in the air were cleaved apart by comrades with ice blades. Curse-casters were knocked down by betrayed allies and booted off the rooftop. Some followers even leapt in front of Vania to shield her from incoming attacks.
Chaos erupted across the rooftop. With many of the Nether Coffin’s Beyonders suddenly turning traitor under the effect of Vania’s red spiritual threads, what was moments ago a dire situation became manageable. Vania, once in grave danger, was now safe and unscathed. Witnessing this reversal, Sinclair’s eyes briefly revealed a flicker of astonishment—though her moment of surprise didn’t last long, as danger struck at her next.
From atop a distant high-rise, a streak of searing orange-red light—tiny but blazing—shot forth at extreme speed, hurtling straight toward Sinclair. In her immobilized state, she had no means of defense; the beam would pierce her in an instant.
But just then, the air around Sinclair grew frigid. In a flash, layers upon layers of icy shields bearing skeletal carvings materialized around her, seemingly manifesting from thin air. They rapidly enclosed her in concentric spheres, forming a massive translucent ice orb.
When the projectile hit the ice sphere, it violently blasted through layer after layer, melting and shattering the shield with each impact. Though the blazing round could easily penetrate solid ice, the irregular density and layering of the barriers subtly deflected its trajectory. Though the orb was ultimately pierced through, the slight deviation spared Sinclair from a direct hit.
As the ice sphere shattered with a sharp crash, the explosion of frost revealed not only Sinclair but another figure at her side. A woman clad in noble garments, aged with visible wrinkles and a dignified demeanor, stood holding a small frost-shield and a frost-forged blade.
“Syrna…”
“We’re leaving.”
Sinclair instinctively blurted out her name. The woman—Syrna—grabbed her by the shoulder and whispered sharply before immediately activating her ability.
A violent blizzard burst forth around her, veiling both women as the swirling storm rapidly expanded outward. Within seconds, the raging whiteout engulfed the rooftop battlefield. The Nether Coffin cultists who had been fighting each other were instantly frozen in place.
As the blizzard reached Vania, her eyes widened. She struggled against the lingering sacred laws that bound her.
At the last moment, just before she too would have been encased in ice, Vania felt those sacred laws suddenly loosen. Freed, she leapt back from the rooftop and evaded the incoming storm, landing safely at ground level and retreating to a secure distance.
“Miss Dorothea, the sacred laws on me have lifted… Sinclair has escaped!”
She quickly relayed the news through her comms. Dorothy replied promptly.
“I know. It couldn’t be helped. With a Crimson-rank escort shielding her, taking her down in one blow would’ve been tricky anyway.”
Dorothy’s calm response belied the situation’s gravity. Though the Nether Coffin Order had already lost a number of its Crimson-rank members, such a vast organization likely still had reserves. By Dorothy’s estimation, the ones in the Ancestral Valley and Stinam should now be dead, leaving only a few remaining in Aransdel.
“What should we do now, Miss Dorothea? Should we go after them?”
Vania asked, still breathless. Dorothea answered coolly.
“No need. They’ll show themselves. Right now, the situation in Aransdel isn’t in their favor. If they want to change that, they’ll have to make a move eventually…”
Far away from the Requiem Cathedral, Dorothy stood on the balcony of her hotel, gazing toward the flickering sky.
“Things… are starting to get messy,” she murmured quietly.
…
Meanwhile, far above Aransdel, below the elevation where the two cardinals battled, yet still high in the clouds, flashes and thunder echoed constantly as two massive ironclad warships clashed.
These were Temple-Grade Saint Steel Vessels—the backbone of the Radiance Church’s military. One belonged to the Redemption Court: the Annihilation Nun. The other to the Inquisition Court: the Sacred Law Judicator. Though technically allies, they were now engaged in open combat.
Cannonfire roared, radiant beams burst forth, and the two giant ships circled each other, trading volleys. Incoming shells were intercepted by precise anti-air defenses, detonating midair in blooms of fire. The reinforced hulls endured the radiant blasts, glowing brightly with magical runes. Occasionally, pieces of the ship were blown off, falling like burning wreckage to the earth.
Due to the ship-vs-ship nature of the conflict, the mighty central cannons—typically the deadliest weapons—were of little use. Instead, both sides relied on secondary armaments. Yet with their formidable defensive systems, neither ship could easily cripple the other with just secondary fire. The result was a prolonged stalemate.
However, the situation quickly changed.
“Wait… what is this…”
While monitoring the battle, Ivy’s radar suddenly picked up an abnormal surge of energy aboard the Sacred Law Judicator. The surge only intensified as the battle wore on, sending chills down her spine. After running an analysis, she arrived at a terrifying conclusion.
“Lady Amanda! The Judicator’s energy core is continuously overloading! The internal energy is rising dangerously—there’s a high probability it’s preparing to self-destruct!”
Horrified, Ivy sent a priority alert to Amanda, who was still locked in aerial combat with Kramar. Upon hearing the message, Amanda’s expression shifted. She glared at Kramar and shouted.
“Vambas! You intend to destroy Aransdel by detonating the Sacred Law Judicator?!”
“Heh… What else?”
Kramar grinned darkly, a manic glint in his eyes. Then he bellowed.
“This was always my final option. I didn’t want to use it. After all, the Sacred Law Judicator is a priceless asset of the Church. But you just won’t back off, Olivia! I have no choice!”
“You’re insane!” Amanda exclaimed.
“Yes! I’m insane! But what of it?! If madness is what it takes to save the Holy Church, then let it be madness! I’ll go even further if I must!”
Kramar shouted in a frenzy. Amanda, appalled, shook her head. She then made a split-second decision—to break away and rush to stop the Sacred Law Judicator.
“You’re not going anywhere! I’m your opponent!”
Kramar immediately struck, pinning Amanda in place and keeping her from supporting the fight below.
It was then Amanda realized the drawback of her strategy: she had intentionally lured Kramar away from the city center to protect the civilians. But doing so also distanced herself from the fight below. Now, she couldn’t return in time.
Locked in place, she sent a message to Ivy.
“Stop the Judicator at all costs! Destroy it before it explodes!”
“Understood!”
Above the clouds, Ivy responded and redirected the Annihilation Nun’s firepower. The Sacred Law Judicator, now descending in a dive, continued to overload.
As the warship plummeted, its onboard defenses began to fail. Its hull presented vulnerable angles to Ivy’s guns, ideal for a devastating barrage.
Theoretically, this was a golden opportunity.
In reality, Ivy’s volley suffered an unexpected result: 70% of the shots missed entirely, and of the remaining 30%, many were intercepted. Only a few managed to strike, and even those inflicted minimal damage.
“What?!”
Stunned, Ivy checked her systems. Her ship was equipped with the Church’s advanced Lantern-based targeting array. Under normal conditions, her accuracy should have been flawless at this range.
An alarm chimed: her sensors detected a spiritual anomaly.
“Warning: This vessel is under curse influence. Intensity: 68.2… Warning…”
A curse! A powerful suppressive curse was affecting the ship, severely weakening its firepower. Its strength exceeded that of most Crimson-ranks.
“Damn it…”
Cursing under her breath, Ivy continued her bombardment, but the curse rendered her attacks largely ineffective.
Fortunately, her firepower was strong enough that even limited hits, if sustained, could still destroy the Sacred Law Judicator before it reached a critical altitude.
But then, the warship plunged into the cloud layer. Within the clouds, countless tiny ice crystals surged toward it—awaiting, as if prearranged. They bypassed the ship’s weakened defenses and gathered on the deck, rapidly coalescing.
The crystals took shape, forming two figures.
One was Syrna, the Crimson from earlier. The other was Sinclair, whom Syrna held by the shoulder.
Syrna had used a prepared ritual to elementalize herself and Sinclair, hiding them in the clouds until the right moment. Now, she had boarded the diving Sacred Law Judicator, and the situation was about to take another drastic turn.
Their goal was clear: to ensure that once the Sacred Law Judicator completed its overload, it would self-destruct at low altitude, right above Aransdel’s city center.
“Icebone Shield…”
Just after boarding the Sacred Law Judicator, Syrna immediately activated her power. Raising both hands, she released an intense cold into the night sky, rapidly condensing thick frost. Within moments, multiple ice shields engraved with skeletal patterns formed around the warship’s exterior, intercepting and deflecting Ivy’s hard-earned artillery fire. Her few rare hits, difficult to land under the curse’s influence, were now blocked entirely by Syrna’s walls of ice.
Under normal circumstances, Ivy could destroy Syrna’s ice shields with less than half of her secondary battery. But cursed as she was, her shots now only landed occasionally, and the damage she managed to inflict was minimal. Syrna could easily regenerate the shields faster than Ivy could destroy them, leaving Ivy increasingly anxious.
“This curse… damn it… is there any way to break it?”
While pursuing the shielded Sacred Law Judicator from behind, Ivy thought frantically. She could clearly see that Syrna was reinforcing the warship with more and more frost armor. The thicker the protection grew, the less effective Ivy’s firepower became.
With the support of those ice shields, Ivy could no longer pose a meaningful threat. But the Nether Coffin Order still wasn’t satisfied. They added one more safeguard to guarantee the warship's detonation.
Within the enormous shields, on the slanted deck of the Sacred Law Judicator, Sinclair stared at the towering judgment platform. Then she gently floated upward and sat upon the solemn marble throne at the top.
Eyes closed in silence, Sinclair slowly opened them again and spoke with a sacred, resonant voice.
“Flame of Purification… Radiance of Sanctity… none shall obstruct the execution of divine judgment… All who stand in its way… shall pay the price…”
Using the Sacred Law Judicator’s onboard ritual system, Sinclair dramatically amplified her soul-declared judgment through the Saint Steel Vessel. While she didn’t possess the power to slay hundreds of thousands in a single breath, she was now able to bestow an even stronger divine protection upon the ship.
When her soul speech echoed across the skies, Ivy—still firing upon the Sacred Law Judicator—suddenly noticed something strange. Her weapons began failing. Cannons that had just fired showed automatic damage; some even exploded. Within seconds, every weapon that had attacked the ship after the declaration showed signs of malfunctions. The worst of them were completely destroyed.
“This is… sacred law?!”
Shocked, Ivy was forced to cease all fire and immediately shut down all weapon systems that hadn’t yet fired. If she continued, she risked permanent damage to her entire arsenal.
Under the effects of the curse, there was no chance she could destroy the ice shields or bring down the Sacred Law Judicator before all her weapons failed.
Now protected by triple-layered defenses—curse, frost, and sacred law—the Sacred Law Judicator continued its energy overload while plummeting toward the city. At this rate, nothing in Aransdel could stop the sacred warship from completing its "purification" through catastrophic self-destruction.
“What do I do…?”
As Ivy fell into growing panic, a familiar voice came through her communication system.
“Please remain calm, Sister Ivy. Do not blindly attack and damage your weapons. Hold your position for now. Wait for the signal—then resume your assault.”
The voice was Vania’s. Ivy had been reporting battlefield conditions not only to Amanda but to Vania as well, knowing full well who stood behind her.
“A ceasefire prep? Sister Vania… is this from your side?”
Ivy responded bluntly. Vania replied without delay.
“Yes. That individual is already working to remove the obstacles and stop this. Please await the signal and cooperate with us…”
Upon hearing that, Ivy’s thoughts turned to the mysterious figure she’d encountered months ago in Busalet. Recalling their deeds there, her anxiety eased slightly. With new resolve, she replied solemnly.
“Alright. I leave it to you.”
…
Beneath the threat-filled sky of Aransdel, Dorothy remained standing on the balcony of her hotel, eyes raised to the flashing clouds above, thoughts spread across the city.
In the skies below, flocks of birds circled and darted low through the city’s air. These weren’t ordinary birds—but Dorothy’s corpse marionettes, secretly planted throughout Aransdel long ago.
Now, they searched the entire city on her behalf for a specific target:
The Nether Coffin’s Crimson-rank Beyonder responsible for cursing Ivy.
Ivy, equipped with state-of-the-art anti-curse defenses, had fallen victim to a powerful hex. That meant the culprit had to be someone at or beyond Crimson-rank. A curse of such magnitude couldn’t be cast by a single Crimson-rank unaided. It required continuous release via ritual—possibly using amplification artifacts. Dorothy’s current task was to locate that ritual site.
Even though she had deduced the curse was being cast through a ritual, Aransdel was vast. Searching the entire city in the short window before the Sacred Law Judicator exploded would be impossible. Dorothy had to rely on clues.
Luckily, she had one.
And now, thanks to that clue, she had results.
“Found it…”
She whispered.
One of her corpse-bird scouts flying over the eastern outskirts of Aransdel had spotted what she needed.
A clearing in a smoking woodland. Figures of various attire sat cross-legged in a circle, heads bowed in incantation. In the center of their ring lay a massive glowing ritual array—a symbol of Silence.
Seated near its inner ring, apart from the others, was a gaunt elder in a black cloak. He led the chant, a bone necklace hovering before him, glowing faintly.
He wasn’t seated at the ritual’s center. That position belonged to a large metal fragment—seven to eight meters across—still steaming, with runes faintly flickering across its surface.
This—this was the clue that had led Dorothy here.
A fragment of Ivy’s Saint Steel Vessel.
Curses needed mediums. Unless a caster had reached Gold-rank—able to kill with a glance—they needed a strong medium for effective cursing. The best mediums were pieces of the target’s body—or in this case, the body of her warship.
Cursing a top-tier Church warship like Ivy’s was nearly impossible for a Crimson-rank alone. It required a ritual, an artifact, and an excellent medium. And because Ivy’s ship had been under heavy security since returning from Busalet, the Nether Coffin Order would have had no access—unless they’d sacrificed precious divinity of the King of the Underworld. That seemed unlikely.
Which meant the curse medium had likely been acquired on-site.
And now, Dorothy had found it.
Earlier, during the initial confrontation between Ivy and the Sacred Law Judicator—before its decision to initiate a self-destruct overload—part of Ivy’s hull had been struck and shattered into fragments, which then plummeted from the sky. Those fragments, falling like meteors, were seen by the Nether Coffin cultists lurking throughout the city—remnants of both ships scattered across the sky.
The cultists quickly moved toward the fall zones, recovering the debris and distinguishing which fragments belonged to the Sacred Law Judicator and which to Ivy. Then, using Ivy’s fragments, they set up a curse ritual on-site.
Naturally, if the Coffin agents could spot the debris, so could Dorothy. In fact, as soon as Ivy was cursed, she immediately suspected those fragments were the problem. With her precise memory, she dispatched corpse marionettes to sweep the crash zones. As expected, she found the Nether Coffin’s ritual field.
Time was tight. The cultists didn’t have the luxury of relocating the massive fragments to a safer site for the ritual, and smaller fragments wouldn’t have provided sufficient medium quality. So they had to perform the ritual on the spot.
“Good thing I had everything pre-positioned throughout the city. Otherwise, this would’ve taken much longer…”
Having located the Nether Coffin’s curse ritual, Dorothy raised her hand gently, channeling power down into the space above the ritual field.
BOOM!!
A flash of white light erupted from the heavy clouds, followed by a thunderous roar. A thick, pale lightning bolt struck directly from the sky—precisely targeting the bone necklace floating above the ritual array in the forest clearing.
In an instant, the spirituality of the curse array spiraled into chaos. The bone necklace exploded, sending a chilling spiritual shockwave out in all directions. The ordinary cultists participating in the ritual screamed in agony, collapsing as if their very souls were being torn apart. The emaciated elder presiding over the rite was blasted into the distance, his charred body crashing to the ground as he coughed up blood in stunned disbelief.
After the thunder, the entire curse formation vanished.
High above, Ivy, sensing the lightning strike, snapped out of her previous restraint. She re-aimed her weapons—all of them—and resumed her bombardment of the Sacred Law Judicator.
“Be destroyed.”
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A barrage of artillery and energy beams rained down on the warship’s frost-reinforced hull. But unlike before, none of Ivy’s shots missed. Every blast struck true, detonating across the ship’s layers of thick ice armor. The ice shields, which had previously absorbed the damage, were now melting and shattering under the renewed assault.
“Why… why is her firepower suddenly so accurate? Wasn’t she cursed? Did something go wrong with Sadona?!”
On the shaking deck of the Sacred Law Judicator, Syrna watched in disbelief as cracks quickly spiderwebbed across her inner shields.
“I can’t hold out… Her firepower’s too strong!”
Despite her desperate efforts to rebuild the ice armor, the Saint Steel Vessel’s firepower was simply too much. Syrna, an ordinary Crimson-rank, was beginning to panic as the shields collapsed faster than she could regenerate them.
“Hold on a little longer, Syrna. Just a bit more… she’ll burn out soon…”
Sitting on the judgment throne, Sinclair’s voice was grave. She silently drew a dagger engraved with strange runes—and plunged it into her own chest.
“Even if my soul is consumed, the Great Purification must be fulfilled!”
As she cried out, the extraordinary artifact granted by the Nether Coffin ignited her soul in illusory flames. By sacrificing her soul, Sinclair massively amplified her sacred law, empowering her final line of defense.
At that moment, Ivy was bombarding the warship through Sinclair’s sacred law. With every shot, her weapon systems degraded faster, burning out from divine backlash. But she didn’t stop. She kept firing until the very last second.
Ultimately, as Sinclair sacrificed her soul to boost her sacred law, the collapse of Ivy’s weapons accelerated dramatically. Just as she was about to deal the final blow to the now-exposed Sacred Law Judicator, her last functioning cannon exploded—destroyed before it could even fire.
Sinclair’s sacred law had strengthened to the point that it punished attackers before they could attack.
There was now no room left to “fire and take the damage.” The damage came first.
“Just a little… more…”
Ivy felt a heavy weight settle over her heart.
On the other side, Syrna collapsed onto the deck, gasping and exhausted. She had used up all her strength and spirituality to protect the ship until the very last moment. Though the ice armor was gone, Ivy had no firepower left. She could no longer threaten the Sacred Law Judicator.
Meanwhile, the ship’s energy overload was nearly complete. It had breached the cloud layer and now had a clear view of the city below. Soon, it would reach the optimal detonation altitude. The Sacred Law Judicator was poised to annihilate all of Aransdel in its final blaze.
And it was still protected by Sinclair’s empowered sacred law. Conventional means could no longer damage it.
“Come, come!! Let the blazing flames rejoice in the return of the Lord Father!!
“For this moment… all sacrifice is worth it!!”
From atop the judgment throne, Sinclair shouted exultantly. She saw glory in her looming martyrdom.
With the crisis reaching its peak, and purging madness about to engulf the entire city, Vania stood atop the spire of the Requiem Cathedral, dressed in white. Her gaze was fixed solemnly on the plummeting steel behemoth above.
Facing the warship diving from the heavens, she raised one arm into the night wind and murmured a prayer.
“O Lord… grant me light…”
In a flash, brilliant radiance gathered in her hand, stretching into the form of a luminous spear. Vania grasped the spear tightly and assumed a throwing stance.
Then she whispered again.
“My Lord is in my heart… and my heart is the righteous path…”
As she prayed, her body began to change. A faint sacred glow surrounded her. Her nun’s habit turned ragged, exposing more of her skin. Broken iron chains wrapped around her limbs. Shackles clamped onto her wrists. Thorns curled across her body.
She appeared now as a prisoner—enslaved, bound, and awaiting divine justice.
However, upon closer inspection, it became clear: those chains were broken, those shackles were cracked, and the thorns—far from sharp—were dull and even blooming with flowers. In that moment, Vania was not a prisoner, but a liberated soul—one just released from bondage!
With a forceful throw, Vania hurled the radiant spear in her hand at the falling steel behemoth in the sky. The spear streaked across the night like a meteor piercing the heavens.
After a rapid ascent, the spear struck the descending Sacred Law Judicator, piercing directly toward the judgment throne. Taken off guard, Sinclair—anchored in place by the sacred law and soul-burning ritual—was impaled through the chest. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the gaping hole in her torso.
“What...?
“Why... is there still an attack...?”
Wide-eyed and stunned, Sinclair mumbled in disbelief. She couldn't understand—why had an attack landed on the Sacred Law Judicator, despite her immensely powerful sacred law? Shouldn’t all attacks have been blocked before they even launched? Even Ivy's battleship cannons weren’t exempt!
In response to Sinclair’s confusion, Dorothy—standing calmly on her balcony—murmured to herself with a faint smile.
“The Redeemed Nun… let’s call this new form of Vania that from now on… First time using it, but the results are surprisingly good…”
Vania Chafferon, the rising star of the Church over the past two centuries, was known and praised by countless people across nations. Her fame had reached an almost absurd height.
And with that fame came endless stories—none more captivating than the tales of her wrongful accusations and absolutions.
Rumors told how, after resolving the Addus crisis in North Ufiga, Vania returned triumphantly to Kankdal, only to be falsely accused and imprisoned. Interrogated by Inquisitors, she nonetheless emerged vindicated. Her pious devotion revealed the truth and cleared her name.
Others claimed that during her mission in Busalet, Vania was once again suspected of dealings with heretics, investigated anew—yet still managed to absolve herself, her faith unshaken.
Insiders whispered that Vania once stormed the Holy Mount’s Grand Cathedral alone, defeated countless guards, barged into the sacred Cardinal Council, openly defied the cardinal archbishops, and even laid hands on a sacred relic. And somehow—by divine mystery—she got away with it. Not only was she not executed (which should've happened a hundred times over), she walked away unscathed… and even resumed public duties. “Absurd” didn’t begin to cover it.
In short, within and beyond the Church alike, the rumor persisted: no matter how grave the crime, Vania would always be redeemed. Either she was falsely accused, or the Church’s laws simply didn’t apply to her. No matter the charges, no matter the severity, she always walked free.
Over time, the idea of “Vania the ever-innocent” became deeply rooted in the minds of clergy and commoners alike. Dorothy had gathered all those rumors and impressions, and used her Bizarre Author ability to forge Vania’s new form—the Redeemed Nun.
In this form, Vania gained extremely high immunity to all rule-based, law-based, or constraint-based powers. Unless the law reached Gold rank, it simply wouldn’t affect her. And even if it was Gold rank, she could still resist it.
Sinclair’s sacred law, while powerful, had not yet reached the Gold rank. And so Vania bypassed it entirely, sniping Sinclair with her radiant spear. With Sinclair dead, her divine law would dissipate completely.
“Sinclair!”
On the deck, Syrna cried out in shock as she saw Sinclair slump lifeless in the judgment seat. At that very moment, a piercing whine echoed from the distance. Syrna turned her gaze—and spotted a sleek, jet-black aerial craft racing toward them like a speedboat. Now that Sinclair’s sacred law was gone, the craft flew unimpeded.
“Damn it… urgh!!”
Seeing this, Syrna mustered the last of her spiritual power, condensing a single ice spike in a desperate act of defense. But before she could act, another radiant spear streaked up from the darkness below—piercing her weakened body in an instant and knocking her down in stunned silence.
At that moment, the aerial craft reached the Sacred Law Judicator. It bore the unmistakable insignia of the Inquisition. A figure leapt down from the vehicle and landed on the deck: a black-robed, masked nun.
“Oho… already cleared out, huh? Looks like I won’t have to lift a finger… truly worthy of being the Lord’s high messenger…”
Gazing at the now-deserted deck, the black-robed nun spoke with admiration. Then, she removed her veil and mask, revealing short chestnut curls and yellow-tinted skin—her appearance bearing traces of the New Continent.
This was Sadroya—a White Ash whom Dorothy had previously wrested from the Nether Coffin using the corruption of cognitive poison back in North Ufiga. Dorothy had since allowed her to act independently, evaluating her reliability. Now, deemed trustworthy, Sadroya had been dispatched to help fight the Nether Coffin directly.
Until recently, Sadroya had remained aboard the Twilight Devotion, serving as Dorothy’s liaison and monitoring the ship’s behavior post-memory loss of Artcheli. She was a keystone in executing Operation BS61-7. After that plan’s success, she took the Twilight Devotion to Aransdel. And now, she had arrived.
“Now then… time to shut this thing down.”
She whispered, eyes fixed on the massive warship before her. Producing a test tube, she smashed it on the deck. A silvery, mercury-like liquid flowed out, spreading rapidly and forming a Silence ritual array—an emergency deployment tool given to Church members. It enabled quick ritual setups in even the harshest conditions—better than anything most national secret police could hope to own.
Once the array was complete, Sadroya knelt and began the ritual. This was a receiving ritual to establish a gateway for an incoming remote invocation.
As the ritual array glowed, an incorporeal figure gradually materialized: a dignified man clad in ornate Church robes and crown. Upon fully manifesting, he nodded to Sadroya, then solemnly scanned the area. His gaze paused momentarily on Sinclair’s corpse… before locking onto the Sacred Law Judicator.
“Sigh… this farce… must end.”
With that, “Kramar”—the consciousness residing in the ship—issued a command. The Sacred Law Judicator’s energy overload gradually subsided. Its downward plunge began to slow.
At last, Kramar began to atone for the madness wrought by his other half.
Watching all this from afar, Dorothy finally exhaled deeply.
“Phew… with this, the local mess in Frisland is finally resolved. Now…”
“Now comes the real trouble…”
She murmured, her expression grave as she gazed westward, toward the far, distant horizon.
Winter… is coming.