Chapter 10
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: They Said a Thousand
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Meanwhile, in an abandoned temple on the borderlands of the Scardi Empire in the northern continent.
Inside a chamber filled with blasphemous symbols and defaced statues, seven people clad in crimson robes maintained a heavy silence.
"You've all heard the news by now."
The man who appeared to be the eldest among those seated around the central round table spoke up.
He slowly leaned forward, pointing to the map laid out in the middle of the table.
"The pilgrimage group, including the Saintess, has finally reached the Crossroad Kingdom."
Everyone turned their heads, following his finger with their gazes.
Directly beneath the words "Crossroad Kingdom" was the emblem of the Holy Church.
"Once they cross this point, they'll reach the north. Straight to us."
He then moved his finger to indicate a remote corner of the northern Scardi Empire.
"From what we've gathered, they're nearly three thousand strong."
"Three... three thousand?"
Murmurs of shock filled the room.
"Th-this can't be right. It's an unprecedented speed. Leading three thousand people across half the continent in just two weeks..."
"And that must include a large contingent of paladins."
"With the Saintess there, they might swell even more."
Anxiety and fear began to seep into their conversations.
Someone raised their voice.
"What's their goal?"
The elder turned to the man beside him.
"What else? This time, they mean to finish us off completely."
There was no need to ask why.
There was only one reason the Holy Church would march such a massive force northward.
The Evil God Cult.
The eternal nemesis of the Holy Church, worshippers of chaos.
They, who specialized in human sacrifice and curses, had long been branded as something that should be erased from the world.
Their crimson robes—contrasting sky blue and gold—glinted ominously in the candlelight.
"Those damn pests. They should just stay holed up in the south, worshipping their fake god..."
"With the Saintess joining them, it feels like they're dead serious."
At that moment, a gaunt man stood from his seat.
"This is no time for hesitation. We need to assassinate the Saintess now—it's not too late!"
"Assassinate?"
"They're gathered because of that woman, the symbol of the Holy Church. Kill her, and the pilgrimage falls apart."
A few nodded in agreement.
"Haktas, do you have a plan?"
At the elder—no, the leader's question, Haktas grinned, baring his yellowed teeth.
"Just give me a few people. I'll curse them with suicide spells, infiltrate the pilgrimage, and boom."
"But they won't just accept anyone without suspicion."
"Kids would be even better. Those fools always stop and fuss over any brat they see."
He held up four fingers.
"Four eight-year-olds could level this whole room. Stuff their bellies with rusty nails and iron balls for extra punch."
With a cackling laugh, he fiddled with his grotesquely twisted hand, warped by curses and sorcery.
His forearm, protruding from the sleeve, was etched with all manner of profane inscriptions.
Haktas, the torture sorcerer.
A long-time executive of the Evil God Cult, infamous for his brutal interrogation methods.
Even now, people still talked about how, during the last war, he'd cursed prisoners with suicide spells, let them escape on purpose, and triggered them the moment they made contact with the Holy Church.
"Street orphans are a dime a dozen. Pretty foolproof."
"Hm, not a bad idea, but..."
The Evil God Cult's elders and executives began whispering among themselves.
"We could use virgins as sacrifices to spread a plague. One that makes only pure virgins cough up blood and die—"
As Haktas started rattling off more vicious methods, a sharp voice cut across the room.
"Killing the Saintess now would be exactly what they want."
All eyes turned to the elder's left.
A slender woman stood there, hand raised.
Her face was hidden by her robe.
The leader asked,
"What do you mean by that?"
"Killing the Saintess won't stop them. The Holy Church will use her death as justification to exterminate us."
As a martyr, she added with a click of her tongue.
"And they'll scream for revenge, charging even more fiercely until we're wiped from the earth."
Silence fell once more at her words.
She was right.
Nothing unites the faithful like an external attack.
Especially if their symbol is slain by the enemy—rage would be inevitable.
Martyr.
Nothing drove zealots madder.
And nothing could stop the fury that followed.
Even the man who'd proposed assassination sat back down without retort.
"Damn it, then do you have a better idea?"
The leader scowled as he asked, and the woman fell silent for a moment.
Then she gave an answer no one expected.
"Let's kidnap her."
"Kid... kidnap? Bring her here?"
People panicked at the notion, even harder than assassination, throwing out comments left and right.
But she continued unflinchingly.
"Our goal isn't killing the Saintess. Whores like her can always be replaced. What we really need to target is..."
She slowly raised her hand, pulling back her robe.
Silky black hair cascaded down like a waterfall.
"The downfall of the Holy Church."
In the soft candlelight, blood-red eyes gleamed.
"We have to show those false-god worshippers the truth."
The voice of Haten Silla, Saintess of the Evil God Cult, echoed through the corrupted temple.
"And it starts by dragging that false god's whore, Erzena Selaph, to the very bottom."
She smirked venomously.
"Defile the Saintess, defile her over and over until she's worse than a street pig, then parade her before the world. What do you think people will say?"
"When that beautiful, noble woman is stripped bare and cast out—what then? Will they still call her Saintess?"
"And the moment the pilgrimage reaches us, offer their symbol as sacrifice to summon a demon..."
No more sanctity in this world.
The Saintess's fall.
Dragging down the woman favored by god.
Nothing could insult the Holy Church or demonstrate their cult's power more perfectly.
Corrupt the voice of god, then offer her as sacrifice.
At that blasphemous vision, people swallowed involuntarily.
It was too perfect, too audacious.
"B-but setting up such a plan now—it's too late, isn't it?"
The leader regained his composure and voiced his concern.
"The pilgrimage has already reached the Crossroad Kingdom. It's only a matter of time before they hit the north."
"Oh, Leader."
Haten Silla let out a seductive laugh.
"I've already sent the perfect person. Someone who can get right next to the Saintess without a shred of suspicion."
"Who?"
"A mercenary we paid handsomely. The kind who can be anyone."
With that, she sat back down.
"The moment she gets entry permission into the Crossroad Kingdom, she'll start moving."
She pulled her robe back over her head with a meaningful smile.
"Soon... we'll hear good news."
Exactly two days later in the afternoon, just as the Auditory Officer had predicted, guests arrived.
"3,129."
I couldn't believe my ears at the delegation's words from the pilgrimage.
"...Could you repeat that?"
"Ah, my apologies. That was yesterday's count. Including those who joined at dawn today, it's 3,374. Here's the roster. Everything's listed without omission, so no issues."
-Thud.
A stack of documents as tall as me appeared right in front with a heavy thump. The Gustatory Officer nearly got buried under it.
"And these are the cargo manifests and logs. Thought they might be useful, so I brought them separately."
-Thud.
Another mountain formed. This one was as tall as the Olfactory Officer.
"We'll meet formally shortly. Thank you for your trouble."
With that, the delegates vanished like the wind.
All that remained were two mountains of paper and the number 3,374 etched into everyone's minds.
The meeting lasted less than five minutes, but its impact lingered.
"..."
"..."
A long silence descended over the Immigration Control Office.
No one spoke—not me, not the sensory officers, not the attendants.
Instead, I slowly turned my head to gaze at the fields beyond the border.
Blue was the sky, green the plains, and swarming atop it like ants—that had to be people.
Had our border plain ever been so packed?
The flags emblazoned with rose emblems stood out vividly. Dozens of Holy Church banners fluttered vigorously in the wind.
I savored the tragedy for a moment, then quietly opened my mouth.
"...We're screwed."