Chapter 82: The Profane
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 82: The Profane
Four types of monsters haunt the Catacombs.
From the 1st floor, zombies.
On the 2nd floor, skeletons.
On the 3rd floor, wights—incorporeal monsters—emerge.
And on the 4th floor, ghouls savor the flesh and blood of the living.
Ordinary adventurers do not enter the Catacombs. It is primarily the domain of priests, monks, or those with the means to strike at spiritual entities. Consequently, the Catacombs became one of the least popular entrances, and in places where people are scarce, the malice of the Labyrinth seethes.
In these sunless basements, cultists had taken root, turning the place into a den of demons. Wights that should have been on the 3rd floor roamed the 1st. Skeletons that usually crawled out from the 2nd floor mingled with the 1st-floor zombies to hold a feast of blood.
This was hell. This was the end of the world.
Or so I thought.
"Holy Light."
Brilliance flared.
A single ray of light descended into the dark, damp Labyrinth, achieving purification. The demons hiding in the shadows were washed away. The Saintess’s light illuminated the Labyrinth. The Goddess’s radiance shone upon us. The stagnant, filthy malice that had accumulated over time was burned clean.
"What in the..."
The sight was nothing short of a divine advent. It was my first time seeing it. To erase monsters with 'Holy Light'—the weakest form of Sigil Magic, usually meant only to illuminate the dark—was a miracle of sorts.
"There are far too many smelly things here."
The monsters were swept away. Not even ectoplasm remained in their wake. They were perfectly erased from this world as if they had never existed in the first place. Whether they had ascended or were simply annihilated by exorcism didn't matter.
The Saintess, who had torn through the monster wave prepared by the cultists in a single breath, approached the trembling heretics with a wide smile.
"Is this the end of your little tricks? Nothing more? Come on. Try harder to entertain me. Is this really all? It’s predictable. So predictable. Your schemes are so obvious they’re actually funny now. You filthy, hideous seeds of evil. Go ahead, wail to your god."
The Saintess’s expression twisted. What dwelt in her eyes was a deep sadism and a light so beautiful it was cruel. She raised the Bible in her hand high.
"Repent in death."
"Aaaagh!!!!"
She brought it down directly onto a cultist’s head.
Thud!
"Profane wretches."
One cultist died instantly. Another trembling cultist tried to flee, but Raphael blocked his path.
"Saintess. May I handle the repentance?"
"Go ahead, Raphael."
"Hahahaha!!! Believe in the Goddess in your next life!"
The massive barbarian priest laughed as he swung his greatsword.
Splat!
The sight of the fleeing cultist being split in half from the crown of his head was almost... refreshing. It was like crushing a bug.
"Hahaha! That expression was top-tier!"
"Your strength seems to have improved, Brother," Paramel remarked.
"It is by the Goddess’s grace! Hahahaha! You could do it too, Paramel!"
"Haha... My body is a bit frail for that..."
Laughter filled the air. The Labyrinth, once saturated with fear, dread, pain, and hatred, was now overflowing with mockery and joy.
"My, what a heartwarming sight. Don't you agree?"
"Eh? Ah... yes."
I couldn't empathize with Rosier’s words at all, but I pretended to. In a village of one-eyed men, you have to pretend to be one-eyed to avoid being hated.
"Then, please collect the remains of the cultists."
"Understood."
I gathered the corpses of the cultists strewn across the floor. One had his head crushed by the Saintess’s 'Bible Hammer,' and the other was split in two as if Solomon himself had paid a visit. I put on gloves to avoid getting blood on myself and stowed them in my Inventory.
Beneath those pitch-black robes were humans just like us. I didn't know how they ended up worshipping an evil god, but now they were nothing more than silent corpses.
"Let’s head down. The 1st floor seems to be cleared."
"Yes, Saintess."
The cleanup of the 1st floor was over. Before entering the Transfer Stone, Rosier closed her eyes and offered a prayer. This place was clean now, having been purged of both monsters and cultists.
We descended to the 2nd floor.
"Are there cultists on the 2nd floor as well?"
Sniff, sniff. "More than the 1st floor."
"Let’s wipe them out before they can flee further down."
Freya and Raphael raced ahead toward the cultists once again. It was a blitz. Raphael would track them by scent, and he and the Saintess would rush in to burst heads and leave only corpses behind. Then, I would follow, pick them up, and put them in my Inventory. The cycle repeated.
We didn't stop until we reached the 3rd floor, purging cultists all the way. We decided to take a short break in front of the 4th floor. It was our first rest since entering the Labyrinth seven hours ago.
I'm exhausted...
I wasn't the one fighting, but just keeping up with these people was grueling. Normally, it takes about seven hours just to reach the 4th floor, but we had swept through the 1st to the 3rd in that same time. You can imagine how fast we were moving.
We ran without pause. Stabbing fleeing cultists in the back, finding those in hiding and crushing their skulls. It was a repetition of killing and more killing. I felt as if my vision was starting to turn red.
What kind of stamina do these people have? They haven't rested for a single second while slaughtering cultists and the monsters they summoned.
Even the torturer Sasaro and the recorder Paramel didn't fight. Neither did Rosier, who was tasked with guarding me. The Saintess and Raphael alone were enough to clear the Labyrinth. Being Platinum Badge-tier monsters, they erased creatures as naturally as breathing and smashed cultist 'pots' without hesitation.
They faced no difficulty. Except for when dealing with monster waves, they didn't even use Sigil Magic, settling everything with physical attacks. They were relentless, as if they had no time to waste on the upper levels.
What puzzled me most was that Bible the Saintess was swinging. Is that really a book? What is it made of?
"What are you staring at?"
"Ah, I was just curious about the Saintess’s Bible."
"Ah. You’re curious about the contents of the scriptures. Here, this is a pocket-sized Bible. Would you like to read it?"
"Ah, no, not that."
Rosier pulled a notebook-sized mini-Bible from between her ample cleavage and handed it to me. I wasn't curious about the contents, but I took it anyway since it was warm.
"Aha. Are you curious about what the Saintess’s Bible is made of?"
"Ah, yes. It doesn't get soaked in blood, and it looks incredibly sturdy."
"Of course it is. That is a Holy Relic."
"What?"
A Holy Relic? Isn't that a treasure of the Church? Is it okay to smash cultists' heads with a Church relic? Or wait, is it better to smash them with a relic? It was a logic I couldn't quite grasp.
Just then, the old torturer Sasaro spoke while sipping water.
"It is the object upon which the Goddess’s words were first recorded. I suspect... she smuggled it out without the Pope knowing."
"Pfft! Cough! Cough!! What? No, can a Saintess even do that?"
That was shocking. Just what kind of standing did the Saintess have within the Church? From what I’d heard of her usual behavior, she wandered around causing trouble, and now she’d stolen a Holy Relic to use as a club.
I couldn't stop coughing from the surprise. As I hacked away, the Saintess, having wiped the blood off herself, approached. She must have overheard us.
"Hehe. It only feels like I’ve truly corrected a heretic when I bash them with this."
"Good grief."
A Saintess who laughs while admitting she stole a Holy Relic from the Pope just for the 'tactile feedback' of the impact.
"Won't you get in big trouble?"
"I'll just take a little disciplinary action. It’s not like it’s the first or second time."
I was speechless. The Saintess, who should be the paragon of following the rules, was like this.
"Shall we eat?"
I pulled sandwiches out of my Inventory and distributed them to the party. I had nothing to say, so I decided to change the subject quickly. Right, this was my job. Providing convenience and picking up bodies. I shouldn't question or take too much interest in unnecessary things. It only makes my head ache.
"By the way, how are you holding up?"
"Pardon? About what?"
"I mean, are you tired or anything? People are dying right in front of you, yet you seem so composed, Mr. Porter. Are you used to this kind of thing?"
"Uh. Well."
As I ate my sandwich, the Saintess asked casually. Normally, I would have found it gruesome or excessively cruel.
But.
"These bastards almost killed me twice. This is actually quite cathartic."
There was the time I was ambushed at night. And the time I almost died because of the Watcher they summoned in the middle of the city. Even if I acted calm in front of others, those incidents had planted a deep-seated hatred for the cultists in my heart. I really had almost died. It had hurt, too.
"Is that so? Huhuhu. It seems our sensibilities match quite well. Have you ever thought about joining the Church?"
"Ah, well, that’s a bit..."
"I see."
"We could treat you very well if you joined us," Rosier added.
"Indeed. It would be reassuring to have you. Do you dislike the idea?" Raphael asked.
"Haha... My wish is just to live as an ordinary adventurer."
"Hehe. Is that so? That’s a shame."
I had already failed at living as an ordinary adventurer, but I didn't want to go as far as joining the Church.
"Then, let’s head down to the next floor."
"Yes."
The end of the upper levels. The 4th floor of the Catacombs. Everything had been smooth up to the 3rd floor.
"This is an overt provocation aimed at us."
"My word..."
The 4th floor was different.
"Aren't these... adventurers...?"
"They have no heads. We can't even resurrect them."
"...."
As soon as we descended to the 4th floor, we found adventurers hanging from the walls, their heads missing. The cultists had used their blood to write profane characters across the walls. The culprits were nowhere to be seen, but a thick sense of malice lingered.
"Did you purify it?"
"Yes... but this is quite something."
"Hey, Porter. Is there anything wrong with your eyes?"
"Pardon? Oh. No. Is this something I shouldn't be looking at?"
"Exactly. It’s a curse. They’ve inscribed curses all over the 4th-floor walls using human blood. It’s designed to cause mental derangement no matter where you look."
"It seems they set the curse and slipped away. Those rotten pieces of trash."
"Just how many were sacrificed..."
To get this much blood, how many people did they have to kill?
"This... isn't enough blood from just adventurers..."
Then, the recorder Paramel offered a new insight.
"These bastards... it looks like they killed and resurrected each other to harvest the blood..."
A human sacrifice. Since the cultists could resurrect within the Labyrinth, they had repeatedly died and come back to life to gather the materials.
"Sasaro."
"Yes, Saintess."
"Do you feel something over there?"
"It’s a thick miasma. It seems they’ve pulled something from the Underground City up to the 4th floor, Saintess."
A monster from the 5th floor had ascended to the 4th.
"It won't be in a normal state."
Furthermore, the creature had been mutated through some specialized method.