Rodhart and Hilika—two individuals, yet four severed halves—were piled on the ground like discarded refuse. Though they had been cut in half at the waist, their internal organs had not spilled out. The priests of the Glory Fortress could tell at a glance that these two Death Knights were exquisite magical creations, preserved in remarkable condition.
Stephen crouched on the ground, carefully examining the four severed remnants.
"Mr. Stephen, His Holiness the Pope wishes to observe your healing process," an elderly high priest entered and informed Stephen. His tone was respectful—after all, though Mr. Stephen was not a member of the church, he had been a frequent guest at the Glory Fortress for more than twenty years, ever since His Majesty Decken had served as Pope. Stephen was even considered a close friend of the former Pope.
Stephen stood up, exchanged a glance with Bishop Inham, then nodded to the priest. "No problem. I will inform His Majesty Magnus when the time comes."
"It seems Magnus is quite curious—curious about exactly how I plan to heal your son." After the priest had left, Stephen smiled at Inham. "But he's not the only one. Even I'm curious myself."
"The two Death Knights crafted by Shante are truly remarkable works of art. A pity…" Stephen sighed. "These two little fellows were practically bathed in white magic waves, cleansing them so thoroughly that even the magical imprints in their minds have been completely erased. The modifications, however, remain flawless. If used as human materials, they are indeed exceptional pieces… But you must understand, even if both Sandru and Shante were here, they wouldn't be able to complete this transformation. After all, your son is still a living person, not a zombie that can be manipulated at will. Sandru has already altered him to such an extent that unless a strong white magic force continuously sustains his vitality, he won't survive the prolonged modification process. Otherwise, all I can do is my best. And to ensure the perfection of this transformation… the intensity and duration of white magic required…" Stephen shrugged. "Even if Magnus and three bishops combined their strength…" He trailed off. "Do you understand what I mean? He won't agree to it. Your son is a card in his hand."
Inham nodded. "I understand. But rest assured, once the time is right, all these problems will be resolved."
"Even so, while I might be able to restore your son's body, his mind… that, I cannot guarantee." Stephen sighed. "Sandru's methods are formidable. If Aescher were still here, the two of us working together might have a chance. But now…"
Inham smiled. "No need to worry about that, Master Stephen. I have my own way of dealing with it."
Stephen furrowed his brows, but his expression carried a hint of amusement as he looked at the cardinal. "Oh? It seems you have quite a few methods, and some of them are rather mysterious… even I can't quite figure them out."
Inham shook his head with a wry smile. "Just minor tricks, nothing more. I've merely been lucky enough to come across some good opportunities recently. As long as Master Stephen can restore my son—"
Stephen waved a hand dismissively. "No need to say more. Rest assured, this is not only a transaction between us but also my way of repaying you. You've told me many things I've long wanted to know." He let out a long, bitter sigh. "I don't even know if I should tell Shante about all this. He's lived all these years following Lord Akibard's prophecy, faithfully guarding that damned tunnel entrance without a word of complaint. If I suddenly tell him all this, I wonder if he'll think I'm spouting nonsense and give me a good scolding."
"The truest clarity and transcendence lie within one's own heart, not in the external reality of things," Inham said with a bitter smile. "That is surely what he would say."
"Maybe that really is the case. But saying it is always easier than actually doing it. How many people can truly achieve it? I, for one, certainly haven't—otherwise, I wouldn't have spent over a decade in the Far East." Stephen shook his head and sighed. "I always wanted to know the truth. But now that I do, I find myself even more lost."
"As expected, the only things that provide people with a sense of security and clear boundaries are the distant, unattainable illusions. Once you hold them in your hands and see the truth clearly, they lose their original purpose."
"But still, having as much as possible within one's grasp is a satisfying feeling." Inham chuckled and pulled out half of a scepter from his robes.
"That's true." Stephen's eyes lit up as he looked at the broken scepter, a smile forming on his lips. "If it were before, I wouldn't have had any interest in this thing. But now… things are different. There's no need for clarity and transcendence—I can finally do something interesting."
"When the time comes, you can stay here and proceed with the modification surgery without worry. I will retrieve the other half myself. I guarantee that what you'll receive will be the very scepter that once rested in His Majesty Decken's hands."
"Mm." Stephen nodded but then frowned. "But you keep talking about 'the right time.' What exactly is the right time? How long do we have to wait?"
"It shouldn't be much longer… When it arrives, you will know." Inham frowned as well. "Though, I must admit, this is a little unexpected. I didn't think it would take this long…"
"It's here." Inham suddenly snapped his head toward the ground.
Even before he spoke, Stephen had already turned in the same direction. His pupils constricted sharply as he asked in shock, "Who is that?"
There was no one in sight where they were looking—just the stone walls of the basement. But their attention had already bypassed the walls, focusing on something far beyond. Their gaze was fixed toward the plaza of the Glory Fortress, where the teleportation magic circle was located.
"Who is that?!" The Holy Warriors and high-ranking priests guarding the teleportation array also cried out in alarm.
A blue light erupted from the center of the teleportation magic circle, signaling that someone had used a teleportation scroll from the Glory Fortress. However, this wasn't the reason for the shock. The frequency of use for this teleportation circle wasn't low, so the surprise didn't stem from the fact that the circle was being used—it was the nature of the person—or rather, not a person—who had arrived.
The magical light of the teleportation hadn't yet dissipated, and no one could make out exactly who had appeared. But there was an instinctual reaction from everyone, a feeling shared by all in the vicinity.
This is not human.
If this presence had been human, there would have been no way for it to exude such a murderous aura. This wasn't just the intent to kill; it wasn't even the typical bloodlust. It was murder itself.
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill...
This was the feeling of everyone present—not just the Holy Warriors and priests guarding the teleportation magic circle, nor just the sensitive mages like Inham and Stephen, but the entire Glory Fortress. Every single person felt it. They sensed the overwhelming aura, one that was directed at the entirety of the Glory Fortress. This aura of death surpassed that of any human, and even beyond the ferocity of any beast. It was wild, uncontrollable, reckless—a force that killed without hesitation, using death to stop death. Kill, kill, kill, kill…
As the Holy Warriors nearby gasped in alarm, the figure, still cloaked in blue teleportation light, lunged forward—beginning the act of…
Killing.