The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 571: Unsavory Means

Chapter 571: Unsavory Means

The battle ended swiftly after the mage’s death. A few of the human seventh-level combatants tried to retreat, but Luke left us to pursue them. The difference between a seventh and eighth-level being was technically only a single level, yet the chasm between them was far greater than that between a first and sixth-level mage. When faced with such an insurmountable disparity, the remaining humans were slaughtered like cattle by the apostle.

As Luke departed to hunt down the last remnants of resistance, I sank to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest. I gazed dully at the ice demon as it continued assimilating its newfound power, but the sight failed to capture my attention the way it had before. I ended up resting my chin on my knees, staring at nothing.

My heart was slow to calm, and every time my thoughts drifted to Luke, it fluttered anew. The adrenaline coursing through me since the start of the battle took its own toll, too, leaving my muscles trembling in exhaustion.

Elise settled beside me, gently prying my hand away from my calf and holding it in hers. I avoided her gaze for the longest time until she finally broke the silence.

"Are you alright?"

The tension broke, and I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut. "I-I don’t know. I feel...scared."

She tilted her head. "Scared?"

"Like when Ronin stabbed Soltair...I he might die. Before he...before I knew he didn’t want me. But why?" I looked at her, my eyes wet, pleading. "Why do I feel like that?"

Elise’s lips parted, but she closed them again. "I’m...not sure I follow."

"They had a duel," R’lissea said, sitting on my other side. "Soltair fought Ronin and ended up losing. I heard Ronin landed a pretty decisive blow."

"Ah, okay," Elise said with a nod. "I see. I think I know how you feel."

"You do?" I stared at her. I didn’t even know what I was feeling, so how could she?

"I had someone important to me once, too," she said, voice going soft. "But I wasn’t allowed to mourn them when they died. I was... happy."

"Elise..."

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "He wanted to hurt me so much. He killed his own son."

I swallowed hard, my tail falling limp against the ground. "Not you."

She looked up, brow furrowed. "What?"

"It wasn’t because of you. It was me. He only hurt you because it would hurt me. He... he killed Jarrod so he could... take you himself and not draw any criticism. It was just an... excuse."

"No, it’s my fault!" she cried. "I got in the way of his plans. I wouldn’t let him enslave everyone he wanted!"

I lowered my head, unable to respond. I’d known she carried this burden for a long, long time. I had felt the same, taking the blame for the terrible things done to me. But it wasn’t the truth. The truth was that sometimes you get hurt when it’s not your fault. The innocent suffer the same as the guilty.

"But I... I..." Her voice broke, dissolving into a heart-wrenching sob. "I had to have done something. Why else did he... why did he..."

"It’s not fair," I whispered, squeezing her hand.

It was an odd reversal of our roles, but she needed comfort more than I did. And not just from me. I looked at R’lissea but found her with her eyes closed. Moisture glistened on the edges of her eyelashes. I instinctively touched my cheek, my fingers coming away wet.

Elise’s grip loosened, and I barely had time to brace myself before she threw her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder. I returned the embrace, and together, we wept for the pain inflicted by a monster.

"I’m so sorry," I murmured, my voice thick with emotion, as my tears finally subsided. "It was my fault you were...that he..."

"You’re fault? For befriending me?" she said, her voice muffled against my clothes. "Never. Even after everything, I would never blame you for this. Alverin was a monster."

"And not the only one, either," a new voice interjected.

I jumped, tightening my hold on Elise as Jessia materialized beside us. She stared at us, lips curled in amusement, causing both Elise and me to quickly pull away from each other, self-consciously dabbing at our tears.

"What did I miss?" she asked, restraining her smirk to a small twitch of the lips.

"Can’t you be a little more sensitive?" R’lissea glared at her, folding her arms and drawing herself up to her full height. Despite her efforts, she still stood half a head shorter than the apostle, but Jessia still took a step back, raising her hands in a gesture of mock innocence.

"Fine, fine, I get it," she grumbled. "But, anyway, I found what you were looking for."

She jerked her head to the side, and I was startled to see a priest slumped unconscious on the ground.

"Found this bastard sneaking out with the other refugees," Jessia explained casually. "He did a pretty good job of suppressing his soul, but your eyes led me right to him. The hardest part was letting this bastard live."

She nudged the unconscious priest with her foot, flipping him over to expose his face. His eyes were open, rolled back in his skull, but his chest continued to rise and fall shallowly. His face was streaked with blood and grime, and a few shallow cuts seeped blood into his torn clothes. A thin line of dried blood laced his neck, oozing from a shallow knife cut.

"A Father?" I gasped, hands flying to my mouth.

Jessia leaned forward, rubbing her chin curiously. "Is it? I’ve never actually seen one in the wild before."

"What’s a Father doing out here? I’ve never seen one away from a palace or the Divine Throne," R’lissea said.

"Me either. They only get involved in things when the Pope orders them to," I said.

"You mean the church is behind this heart crest?" Elise asked, turning to gaze at the city. "But why out here?"

Jessia nodded. "He admitted as much when I first found him. It was kind of sad, really. I hoped I’d get that kind of juicy stuff through a real conversation, but he gave up too easily."

I glanced at the father’s many wounds and shivered. "They’re not even trying to hide it?"

"This must be why the Life God let me save you," R’lissea muttered. She shifted from foot to foot, biting her lip as she peered at the priest. "They must be trying to implement this all over the world."

"What do you want me to do with him?" Jessia asked, punctuating her question with another careless kick to the priest’s face. Her boot left a long, bloody scrape across his cheek.

"I don’t care," I said, turning away. "Just... I don’t want to look at him anymore."

The Fathers had been just as complicit in my mistreatment within the Divine Throne as the Pope himself. If anything, their presence had been worse, as they were the ones tasked with constantly monitoring and controlling my every move. The memory of Father Ithris, in particular, sent a shiver down my spine. His cold, uncaring expression had become the embodiment of the priesthood in my mind.

"So you don’t care if I pry into all his little secrets?" Jessia’s voice remained carefree and casual, but a shiver ran down my spine, making my tail twitch nervously. She tried to mask it, but I knew Jessia harbored a deep fascination with uncovering the secrets of others, especially those she considered her enemies. That insatiable curiosity was likely what had convinced the Emperor of Curses to name her an apostle in the first place.

"N-no," I stammered, struggling to maintain my composure. "Please, don’t... I don’t want anyone to suffer."

"Even him?" she questioned, tilting her head. "I suppose I can go easy, but I doubt someone this high-ranking will break easily."

I hesitated, biting my lip. "I... don’t want you to," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her face immediately brightened, a wickedly sharp knife appearing in her hand as if from thin air. "Really? Good thing I never actually asked, then."

"You did, though," I muttered, rubbing my horn even more furiously. As much as I hated to admit it, we needed all the information we could get. My visions of the future were unreliable now that Verity had gained some control, and though I would still seek what answers I could, getting them from the source would be best.

Having experienced the inquisitor’s methods, I knew just how dreadful discovering "little secrets" could be. Even if he was a Father, surely he didn’t deserve to...

I met Elise’s eyes, finding my own distress reflected in her eyes. The church was responsible for everything that had happened to me. And were it just that, I could convince myself to ignore it. I’d already accepted my fate, and would rather not think of the darkness and pain anymore, even for the sake of revenge.

But it wasn’t just me. They had hurt Elise, Sari, and so many others I cared about. Even now, they are trying to enslave this entire world. Even if I convinced Luke to spare the innocent, would it even matter in the end if they turned into puppets of the cruel, uncaring gods?

"So? Do you want to find out what they’re doing here or not?" Jessia asked, losing some of her playfulness.

"Just go," I whispered, closing my eyes. "Do what you must."

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