Chapter 495

Hersela chose to remain silent, treating everything as a dream rather than accepting the reality that I had become a saintess. Not that it would change anything.

In about thirty minutes, she’d probably come to terms with it.

After diverting my attention from Hersela, I glared at the Shaulite Church Cathedral, now almost within reach.

On the way here, I took down about forty guys. All trash, not even worth remembering.

I prioritized taking out the ones trying to retreat, so the bugs hiding inside the cathedral probably had no clue what was happening. At best, they might’ve noticed some commotion in the city.

Even if they realized an Astraean paladin was charging at them to kill them, they wouldn’t know who it was.

The radiant golden barrier Seilon had deployed perfectly concealed our appearance.

The fact that none of the guys blocking the carriage shouted my name was proof. To them, it probably just looked like a massive ball of light was rushing toward them.

But once Seilon retracted the divine light, they’d recognize me.

From then on, it was a race against time.

If they had any guts, they might charge at us… but if I were Belcus, I’d pack up and flee the Holy Kingdom immediately.

So, I had to find and tear them apart before they could run.

– *Thud thud thud thud!*

The thunderous sound of hooves. The marble and gold-decorated cathedral walls were now right in front of me. I spat out the cigarette I was smoking and gripped Durandal’s hilt.

“We’re going in! Everyone, get ready to jump out!”

The semi-spherical holy barrier peeled away like Leopold’s forehead, concentrating forward. It took the shape of a battering ram, and the carriage, now transformed into a massive golden stake, mercilessly crashed into the cathedral’s side.

– *Kwaaaaang!*

An enormous impact struck the cathedral walls, but thanks to the holy barrier, the backlash felt like a gentle breeze to us.

Newton, you were wrong. Look at this. The moment the principle of action and reaction kneels before a divine miracle.

—

Broken marble fragments swept through the garden, turning it into ruins. The statue of Shaulite was shattered like a victim of a brutal murder.

Shaulite would surely be pleased. The broken statue had been defaced with obscene graffiti, clearly meant to insult the goddess.

The clothing parts were completely destroyed, replaced with a nude carving painted in flesh tones, and white dye splattered everywhere. It looked like a deranged Michelangelo on aphrodisiacs had sculpted it, oozing artistic vulgarity.

Even the inner thighs were slathered with white paint to mimic the texture of flowing liquid, with numbers carved beside it.

What kind of lunatic made this?

“W-what the hell is this?!”

A curse filled with bewilderment snapped me out of my thoughts.

I turned my gaze from the shattered statue and glared at the cultists staring at us in shock.

The scene inside the cathedral was exactly as I had expected, so it wasn’t particularly shocking. Well, it was shocking, but not enough to make me lose my cool.

The nuns who once served the Sun Goddess, tenderly caring for the wounded.

The paladins who tempered themselves through faith and training, leading the charge with passion and pride. They were no longer here.

All that remained were women reduced to playthings for the cultists, moaning with vacant eyes.

Paladins with their faces buried in the floor. Priests embracing cultists with frail limbs, kissing them. Their bodies were covered in bruises, their skin drenched and ruined.

It was an ugly scene.

“Paladins! The damn paladins are here! Grab your weapons!”

Seeing us rise from the carriage, the cultists finally understood the situation and frantically adjusted their clothes, tossing the women aside.

…Good thing I left Rana in the carriage.

The sight of dozens of dangling male organs was nauseatingly vulgar.

“Paladins? You insignificant brats, do you even know where you are…!”

The cultists drew their weapons, spitting and baring their teeth.

Insignificant? If not for the horrific scene before us, Seilon would’ve burst out laughing. These back-alley thugs, no different from street rats, were mouthing off to the church’s strongest paladin.

“Oh, there’s a woman too! And she’s got a big one…!”

“Huh…? Wait, that woman…?!”

No need to listen any further. I’d already scanned the entire prayer room while they were yapping.

The paladins and priests lying naked were mostly women, with only a handful of male believers. At most, maybe five or six. The rest were clearly cultists, judging by their hostile expressions and discarded clothes.

“You trash have been quite active since the new year….”

I drew Durandal and declared in a biting tone.

“…It’s time for regrets.”

Hell had come for them.

—

– *Whoosh!*

A leap like a winged beast. The burly figure landed in the midst of the cultists, the hem of his flipped coat settling with a heavy thud against the scale armor.

“T-this woman! It’s Ai-shan Gi-or! The Empire’s monster, Ai-shan Gi-or Ha-shal-leur!”

“You know me well.”

The cultist who recognized me widened his eyes. I grabbed his face with an icy grip and tore it off. From his face to his groin, his skin was peeled away, revealing raw, red flesh.

“Aaaargh!”

His lips gone, his tongue dangling, the cultist screamed from his gaping maw.

I shoved the half-bodied cultist aside like trash and crushed the hand of another cultist who swung his sword at me in a panic.

“Guhhhh!”

A pig-like squeal. The meaty pulp oozed between my fingers. I yanked out the remaining right arm from the shoulder and slashed Durandal twice, opening up his lower abdomen and groin.

The grotesque lump of meat that had been committing sacrilege just moments ago plopped down, rolling in the pool of blood.

“Aaaah!”

“Why is this crazy bitch here?!”

I slaughtered every cultist in sight, adhering strictly to two principles: inflicting enough pain to make them regret being alive, but leaving their heads intact to prevent instant death.

“Astraea’s justice has arrived! Her light shall judge your sins!”

Seilon was practically the embodiment of rage.

He wasn’t severing groins like I was, but with each swing of his golden longsword, cultists were left writhing like worms, their torsos intact.

Though they served a different god, the brainwashed women were also once devout believers. Seeing them reduced to such a pitiful state must have filled him with indescribable fury.

“Tremble in fear and worship the heavens! Her wrath shall bring your destruction, burning everything to ash!”

As the battle began, Lacey, who had burst out of the carriage roof, chanted a prayer and slammed her cross spear into the ground.

A white magic circle spread beneath the feet of three cultists gathering mana, and in the next moment, a pillar of light tore their bodies apart.

“Aaaah! My legs! My leeeegs!”

Originally, the pillar would’ve obliterated them instantly, but it seemed she had lowered the output as I advised, so the effect was weaker.

Thus, the cultists caught in the light were slowly ground down like fruit in a blender over several seconds.

“How does it feel to be on the receiving end? Enjoying it?”

Leonor, who had swiftly infiltrated the cultists, rained down a storm of slashes with her longsword. A cultist who tried to use a naked woman as a shield was riddled with holes, blood gushing from the wounds like a fountain.

Leonor pierced through the cultists again and again, her sadistic expression reminiscent of Isabella. The women she encountered were knocked unconscious with the hilt of her sword.

Agnes and Nigel stayed by the carriage, protecting Rana and fending off approaching enemies.

With each swing of the Menes Church’s holy relic, the Moonlight Blade, divine sword energy sliced through the cultists’ limbs. Men who threw themselves forward to dodge the energy were pierced through the lungs by Nigel’s spear, collapsing with gurgling cries.

“H-heek! H-heeeek!”

“Run! These guys are monsters! We can’t…!”

As over fifty men were slaughtered in the time it took to drink a sip of water, the cultists lost their will to fight and began scattering in all directions. Not that it mattered—they were too slow.

“How dare you run!”

Seilon unleashed the Light of Judgment above their heads.

Astraea’s wrath poured down like rain. Everything within range was reduced to bloody pulp.

The power was on a completely different level from when I had faced it. It was a sight that made you realize just how deep their sins ran.

—

“Where’s that bastard Belcus?”

While the others vented their rage, turning cultists into corpses, I interrogated the ones who had lost their will to fight.

I repeated the process of shoving one cultist’s head into another’s groin, creating an inhuman human centipede.

“I-it’s like…!”

“Don’t know? Then too bad. Let’s go meet your friends.”

I dragged the cultist I was interrogating by the collar toward the pile of bugs I’d finished questioning.

“N-no! Noooooo! Damn it! Dammiiiiit!”

The cultist, realizing his fate, thrashed and resisted like a madman, but with his limbs broken, his struggles were pitiful.

Soon, a new segment was added to the human centipede.

The sight of a head stuffed into a comrade’s guts, another head shoved into his own belly, convulsing, was deeply satisfying.

[You’re getting more creatively barbaric by the minute. That mark on your chest isn’t a holy mark—it’s the brand of an evil god.]

Hersela, having recovered from the shock of the holy mark, sneered with a hollow laugh.

‘The evil god is the one these guys worship.’

I casually retorted as I extended the length of the human centipede, hoping someone who knew Belcus’s whereabouts would show up.

By the time the centipede had grown to about fifteen segments—

“The dogs of the Holy Kingdom have caught the scent! We’ve been waiting for you!”

The core forces of the cultists, drawn by the screams, began pouring into the prayer room.

Finally, some real players were showing up.

I pulled Durandal from the centipede’s head and quickly scanned the newly arrived cultists. Most were knight-level, but the ones who looked like officers radiated the aura of masters.

Though it was clear they hadn’t reached that level through their own efforts—they had likely received the evil god’s blessings through the atrocities committed in Arvil.