Chapter 1 - The Saintess Meets the Heavenly Demon
Chapter 1 - The Saintess Meets the Heavenly Demon
“In the name of God, purge the heretics!”
The holy knights shouted as they drove their blades into the backs of fleeing cultists.
“You hypocrites who worship a false god… I curse you even in death!”
The cultists, collapsing with swords lodged in their backs, spat their final curses at the holy knights looming over them.
At the northernmost edge of the continent, within a vast cavern buried beneath a plateau battered by relentless blizzards—a place so inhospitable that neither man nor beast dared take root—the ceaseless snowfall served as nature’s veil.
It was only natural that the Hakram Cult, fleeing the pursuit of the Radain Church, had chosen this cavern as their final refuge.
Yet the holy knights of Radain had doggedly tracked the cultists’ trail, and at last, they had uncovered even this last stronghold.
“Hear me, Hakram cultists within the cavern! The Saintess offers you one final mercy! Surrender now and step outside, and we shall spare your lives!”
A holy knight’s ultimatum echoed into the cavern.
The cultists responded with arrows, and thus, the holy war resumed.
To describe the scene—it was either the cultists’ last stand or the holy knights’ one-sided slaughter.
The thirty elite knights fanned out from the cavern’s entrance, advancing inward and cutting down every cultist they encountered without exception.
The Hakram cultists, as if anticipating this outcome, neither surrendered nor begged for mercy, instead raising their weapons in defiance.
But how could tattered robes, daggers, and hastily forged spears prevail against holy knights clad in gleaming golden armor and wielding broadswords?
The casualties in this cavern battle belonged solely to the Hakram cultists.
Once the knights had secured every corner of the cavern except its deepest recess, they gathered before the final chamber—a vast hollow that would serve as the last battleground—and steeled themselves.
Inside awaited the last of the heretics. Killing them would bring an end to this tiresome “holy war.”
The faces of the knights, resting here and there throughout the cavern, brightened with anticipation.
“Do not lower your guard! In the name of Lord Juten, our duty is to wield the hammer of justice to the very end!”
Their commander barked sharply, snapping them back to attention.
Though their overwhelming advantage was undeniable, complacency on the battlefield was forbidden.
Having finished his sermon, the commander turned toward a silver-haired woman who had been silently observing from behind.
“My apologies, Saintess. You had to witness such an unsightly display.”
His demeanor was a stark contrast to moments before—as though the young woman before him were his superior.
“No, it’s quite alright.”
The Saintess offered him the same gentle smile as always.
Euria, the Saintess of the Radain Church.
Though she was part of this expeditionary force, she had not participated in the fighting thus far.
There was no need—nor would the holy knights have allowed it.
If so much as a scratch marred her sacred form, they would be held accountable.
“Before the battle, I wish to tend to the knights’ wounds.”
“There’s no need, Saintess. None are gravely injured—mere scratches at worst…”
“This is my duty.”
Unwavering even before the towering commander, the Saintess shook her head firmly.
“…If you insist, then very well. Attention! All wounded, form a line before the Saintess!”
At his command, over twenty of the thirty knights lined up before her.
True to the commander’s words, most bore only minor scrapes—but what man would pass up the chance for a private audience with a Saintess whose beauty rivaled that of royalty and nobility?
Oblivious to their hidden motives, the Saintess treated each with a kind smile and simple healing spells.
Yet, as she tended to them, one thing weighed on her mind.
“Just you wait, you damned hypocrites… Soon, the demon will descend from the heavens and pass judgment upon you all…!”
The dying words of one cultist.
The holy knights—even the commander—dismissed it as the usual ravings of heretics.
But for some reason, Euria couldn’t shake the unease those words stirred in her.
None of the Hakram cultists, even as they died, showed despair or rage.
If anything, some wore expressions closer to… hope.
Unable to define the dissonance, the Saintess followed the knights with growing unease as they stormed deeper into the cavern.
And soon, her fears became reality.
The cavern’s terminus opened into a hollow vast enough to swallow a cathedral whole.
At its center lay a massive magic circle drawn in blood.
At each point of the star-shaped sigil, a torch crowned with a human skull burned ominously, while at its heart stood a figure draped in black robes, arms raised skyward as they muttered ceaseless incantations.
“That man—!”
The commander’s eyes widened in recognition.
“The Hakram Cult’s high priest! He’s performing dark magic! Stop him, now!”
At his urgent cry, the knights charged toward the magic circle—only to be ambushed by cultists lurking in the shadows.
What followed was no longer a one-sided slaughter but a fierce battle.
Properly forged swords and iron armor deflected the knights’ blades, while shadowy arrows rained down from the cultists’ ranks.
These were clearly the high priest’s elite guard.
“Damn it…!”
The commander bit his lip at the unexpected resistance.
His battlefield-honed instincts screamed a warning—whatever ritual the high priest was conducting, it had to be stopped at all costs.
Then—
“…Everyone, fall back.”
A serene yet piercing voice brought the battle to a momentary halt.
“Saintess, no!”
Ignoring the commander’s plea, Euria stepped quietly into the heart of the fray.
All eyes turned to her.
“Followers of Hakram. This is my final plea. Cease this futile resistance and surrender. In the name of Euria Radain, Saintess of the Radain Church, I guarantee your safety.”
As her words faded—
“Die, whore of Radain!”
The cultists surged toward her as one.
Blades and black arrows flew at her from all directions—a moment of absolute peril.
Yet the Saintess merely closed her eyes.
“I grieve that I could not save you.”
SHWAK!
Pillars of light erupted from the ground, impaling the cultists in unison.
SHIIING!
Not stopping there, arrows of light materialized around her and rained down upon the heretics.
We should’ve just cheered from the sidelines.
Shh!
The knights could only watch dumbfounded as the Saintess “cleansed” the cultists.
Once the last Hakram warrior fell with a shaft of light through his chest, the Saintess strode toward the magic circle.
SHISHIIING!
First, arrows of light.
WHOOSH!
Next, a pillar of light descended from the cavern’s ceiling, driving straight toward the high priest at the circle’s center.
Her holy magic, once unleashed upon evil, surged forth relentlessly to annihilate the last remaining heretic.
BOOM!
Yet the attack never reached him.
The Saintess’s spells collided with an unseen barrier and dissipated harmlessly.
As if an invisible shield stood in their path.
Frowning, she prepared a higher-tier spell—
“…Hah… hahahaha…”
But the high priest’s ominous laughter froze her in place.
“At last… at last, the demon has answered our call…! Cough!”
Gurgling, choking.
The laughing priest began vomiting blood.
Not just from his mouth—his eyes, nose, ears, every orifice erupted with crimson.
Simultaneously, the magic circle pulsed with a sinister red glow.
“Fall back!”
The knights swiftly shielded the Saintess, chanting protective spells to erect a massive barrier.
The expeditionary force waited in tense silence, bracing for the ritual’s outcome.
The circle throbbed like a vein, flickering incessantly, while the high priest collapsed, still hemorrhaging at its center.
FWOOOSH—!
“Ghk!”
An unfathomably malevolent energy erupted from the circle’s heart, engulfing them all—
—then, as abruptly as it began, the ritual ended.
“…”
The high priest was dead. The magic circle dimmed.
Yet none dared approach the fog-shrouded sigil.
…What is that?
Because beyond the mist, a shadowy figure had appeared at the circle’s center.
All held their breath as they watched.
The figure stood motionless for a long moment before crouching to examine the high priest’s corpse.
Then it rose—
“!”
It noticed us!
The Saintess realized it the instant—
SWISH!
A massive blade of energy sliced through the fog, hurtling toward the knights.
CRACK!
The barrier shattered like glass.
“Ugh…!”
The shockwave forced the Saintess and knights back.
“Who dares raise a blade against us, the holy knights of Radain who enact divine will?!”
The commander’s challenge trembled faintly as he shouted at the unknown assailant.
The other knights were equally terrified.
The Saintess could feel it clearly—
The overwhelming aura radiating from that being.
A presence so oppressive it sent chills down their spines, as though denying them even the right to breathe—
Yes.
An evil so profound it could only belong to…
A demon.
Thud. Thud.
The figure began walking toward them.
“A god, you say?”
It parted the fog and faced the knights at last.
—And the moment the Saintess saw its face, she was so stunned she forgot to breathe.
Long black hair. Piercing eyes.
A face so mesmerizing it could enchant at a glance—yet one that belonged to no race on this continent.
“You stand before me, yet dare call yourselves gods?”