[BL] Accidentally Becoming the Healer of the Deranged Archduke
Chapter 310: The Goddess Beneath the Cloth

Chapter 310: The Goddess Beneath the Cloth

The ox cart jolted harshly along the snow-covered path for over an hour before it finally stopped outside a massive building.

It was past midnight, and the heavy darkness obscured most of their surroundings. Still, something about the place struck Xion as familiar.

Where had he seen it before?

With a heavy heart, he followed the others out. They were commanded to form rows in the same order as before. The old man was tottering ahead, while Xion was in the middle.

As for the burly man, he had somehow finagled his way into the fifth spot.

[I think he really believes you married a noblewoman who kicked you out. You didn’t mention the gender, after all. He probably assumed her new noble husband threw you out to save face.]

Xion decided to ignore it. He was in no mood to clarify such bizarre things. As he walked closer to the cathedral, his brows furrowed even more.

The torches flared to life the moment they reached the gates, casting light upon barely standing walls. The air reeked of ash, the acrid stench clawing at the lungs of many and forcing them to cough.

However, they didn’t dare to be too loud.

Just as Xion stepped past the ruined threshold, his eyes widened.

"Mors vitam dat. Vita tenebras parit. Tenebrae a sancto fugiunt. Hic sanctum dormit."

The wooden arch bearing those words was split cleanly in two.

Death gives life...

Darkness flees from the holy.

That portion still clung awkwardly above the battered iron gate. The rest lay discarded beside a crumbling pillar.

Life breeds darkness...

Here, the holy sleeps.

The motto had fractured into two parts, and yet, somehow, the separation made an eerie sort of sense.

Xion took a long look at the words before stepping inside.

Once, he had marvelled at the towering structure, but now, everything was dark and grimy.

It was ironic, really—his own battered state seemed to mimic the cathedral’s ruin.

When he visited the church as the spouse of Darius, he was welcomed inside. Talia had even asked him if he wanted to visit the ’confession room’ which he had promptly ignored.

And now, he was standing with the evildoers, ready to confess his sins of his own volition.

Is this what they call fate? Xion mused to himself as he moved. Though, this time, he didn’t need his mana to support his legs anymore.

The outer walls had been torn down by some mighty force, yet the inner sanctum had managed to endure the brunt. If one ignored the charred symbols that stained every inch of stone.

The wooden doors had been reduced to blackened splinters, scarcely clinging to their hinges.

Xion held his breath as he crossed the second threshold, his gaze wandering everywhere.

[His Grace has told you that the old church caught fire, remember?]

Xion hummed lightly in response. But he didn’t expect it to be burned to this degree.

His thoughts flickered back to that strange woman he’d met. Could she be here as well?

He was still mulling it over when someone pushed him from behind. He stumbled, nearly colliding with the person ahead, only to be caught roughly by a guard.

"Thank—"

"Are you blind?!" the guard snapped. "Can’t even walk straight. Filthy rats, all of you. Just keep running here without any shame."

"Hurry along!" He dabbed his hand with a cloth before tossing it aside in disgust. "Tardiness is a sin!"

Pursing his lips in a tight line, Xion silently followed the row of people as they slowly walked closer to the familiar hall.

As soon as they entered, they were met with the sight of thousands of candles burning all around the empty altar.

The golden light was sufficient for Xion to take a proper look at his surroundings.

Unlike the almost vacant hall before, there were guards standing at all the entrances on both sides. Their hands rested on the hilt of their swords, ready to take action any moment.

The uneasiness in his heart rose to another level when he caught the hint of a familiar jasmine fragrance lingering in the air.

Nonetheless, his attention was soon focused on the podium. At the altar stood a priest no older than his early twenties.

Clad in ceremonial robes, he gave a deep bow to the huge statue still covered with dark cloth before addressing the crowd of more than fifty souls.

"I welcome the lost souls on behalf of Her Holiness," the priest said in a mild almost musical voice. "This is the sacred place where we kneel before our goddess, and seek her grace."

He had a gentle smile, something Xion found relaxing, or at least, it wasn’t as unnerving as the huge goblet placed near the edge of the altar.

Perhaps it was due to the lighting, but he seemed to have seen the red glow wiggling in it.

"Are you unwell, perhaps? You look pale. Do you want me to call a healer for you?"

The priest was looking at the old man, his gaze filled with genuine worry.

The old man, startled by the attention, gaped in silence. It wasn’t until someone patted his back that he stammered out, "N-No, Father. I-I am f-fine."

But he was not fine. His legs trembled beneath him. The long, frozen journey had drained what little strength remained in his withered limbs.

Xion felt sweat bead at his temples. Watching the old man struggle, he wondered what kind of expression he himself wore.

Was he pale with nerves? Panic-stricken?

He touched the side of his hooded face and wasn’t surprised to feel the stickiness covering his temples.

Before he could ponder over his agitation, the voice of the priest changed.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch the wrong way. The gentle smile vanished, leaving behind stern coldness.

"How dare you spurn the sacred blessings?" he snarled. His face contorted in rage and the youthful glow was lost in an instant.

Even without seeing the old man’s face, Xion knew he must’ve turned white as a sheet.

"I—I beg forgiveness, Father. I have sinned. Please, forgive me!"

The priest’s cold glare lingered for a few long seconds until the old man collapsed to the ground.

Those weak bones could only bear so much.

"Please, forgive me... Forgive me...."

That was what the kneeling old man chanted. The other people held their breaths, not willing to offend anyone.

Looking at the stillness, the priest suddenly smiled. "So long as you understand," he said lightly.

When he turned his face toward the covered statue, he clapped his hands in excitement. "This is the depiction of our goddess! Beautiful, isn’t it? I thank Her Holiness every day for giving me such a precious gift."

That clapping. That sudden shift in tone. It was exactly like the woman Xion had met in this cathedral that day.

In fact, she had said something similar as well. What’s going on here?

Even if two people were unhinged, they shouldn’t move the same way, say the same words.

Something was ringing at the back of his mind.

However, before Xion could grasp it, the priest waved his hand and the cloth covering the statue fell down.

Xion’s eyes widened as he finally saw the face of the statue.

What in the world...?