Heresy Saintess, Taboo Nun (3)
Clang- clang- claaang-!
"Huuu... Damn it. How long do I have to stay stuck here?"
"Until it's all finished, obviously."
"Tch."
Clang- The man slamming down the hammer roughly wiped away his sweat. The bushy-bearded man feigned irritation.
"Don't you think the contract terms are way too unequal? I never heard it'd be this complicated and piled so high."
"Unequal." In the sweltering heat thick with furnace glow, the black-masked man—who somehow still looked stifled—sneered.
"Yeah. Lately, it's really starting to feel like an unfair deal."
"I figured you'd sa—"
"After we went and bestowed ---- --'s grace on trash like your talent, why the hell isn't it done yet? Turns out your talent's even more worthless than we thought—the losses on our end keep piling up by the day."
"Wh-what did you just...!"
"You're not about to claim you half-assed it or slacked off, are you?"
"What do you take me for! Graaaah!!!"
The masked man snapped his fingers, and the bearded man—hammer in hand, fuming with rage—clutched his right arm and rolled on the floor, screaming in agony. After a good thirty seconds or so, another finger snap, and the screams cut off abruptly.
Trembling from head to toe, the bearded man locked eyes with the black mask staring down at him. It wasn't his first time seeing it, but it sent chills down his spine like never before.
"The plan's already proceeding smoothly step by step. Starting over with fresh grace, or finding some new schmuck worthy of it at this stage? Not easy."
"Urgh!"
As the masked man raised his fingers again, the bearded man reflexively curled up. The masked man sneered once more.
"Not easy doesn't mean impossible—keep that in mind. Unless you want that grace ripped straight out of your worthless talent."
"Ah, there's still time left on the deadline, isn't there!"
"Sure, there's some. But the situation's changed."
"What?"
The masked man tossed something over. A black object landed squarely in the bearded man's arms.
"This."
"It's not exactly grace, but for trash like you—er, my apologies—it's more than you deserve. Unequal, sure, but a contract's a contract. Consider it payment for advancing the deadline."
"W-wait a second!"
"Oh, by the way. You can refuse our payment, but you can't refuse your obligations. Hm... I'd like it done within about three days."
"Three days? No way! This isn't about skill—it's straight-up impossible! E-even if you dragged the Master here, it couldn't be done!"
"That's your problem. If you'd kept up the pace till now, it wouldn't be this tight. And..."
The masked man snapped his fingers.
"Graaaah!!"
"To receive ---- --'s grace and still compare yourself to a mere human? Must be itching to die."
"Aaaaaagh!!! Pl-please!! Stop!!!"
The masked man snapped his fingers again. Then, without a flicker of emotion, he slipped away indifferently.
A chill silence settled over the humid makeshift workshop.
* * *
"Captain's hunch seems to have become reality. No—actually, the order's backward. It's not just imagination; it's practically prophecy."
"Exactly. Spotting the same thing three times in a row? Can't call it coincidence."
We'd just taken down the third 'Terror Nun.' The psychological resistance had lessened a bit since the first encounter, but I wasn't fully over it yet. Especially since each Terror Nun looked different. And we'd taken at least one mentality hit from each—no small factor.
"One thing I'm curious about."
"Yeah? Shoot."
"It's clear they're kidnapping nuns to scheme something, but why scatter them one by one like this? No guards, even. If they risked snatching them from the convents in Seilroom, you'd think they'd treat them as high-value... but it feels like..."
"Like disposable grunts who could die anywhere, anytime?"
"...Yes."
Kaya gave a wry smile at Shae's blunt words.
"And we still haven't found a trace of the dispatch team. It's starting to make me uneasy."
"I get the unease, but we're doing our absolute best. We've taken out three corrupted nuns—that's gotta be disrupting their plans."
The surroundings, briefly brighter, were darkening again.
"On the flip side, maybe losing three nuns is no big deal because the plan's already far along. Or there are way more kidnapped nuns than we think."
"That'd make the situation even worse..."
"Captain."
"Yeah, Shae."
"What if... those corrupted bitches being placed there is part of the plan itself?"
"...What?"
"What if them dying to the dispatch team was planned from the start?"
"Shae, that's a stretch."
"Not a stretch—it's a real possibility. If so, it explains leaving the kidnapped ones isolated like this. To them, corrupted nuns are expendable. Shrinking the church's forces—ones itching to crush them—while using them in the plan. Cleanup by fellow church members? No expectations, but bonus if they kill each other. Perfect picture, right?"
Couldn't deny it anymore. It fit too perfectly.
Terror worshippers had no qualms sacrificing victims—or themselves if needed. Mad bastards.
Wait. Sacrifices?
Kidnapped corrupted nuns.
Their baffling placements.
The terror worshippers' scheme.
And sacrifices.
"Hold on. Hold on..."
Fuck, wait a sec.
Chills. I instinctively rubbed my arms and whipped around, scanning the surroundings. Nothing but dank alleys and blackened, dead soil—but the moment realization hit, everything around me crawled with dread.
"Captain?"
"Captain? What's wrong all of a sudden? Scout sense again?"
"No, no. Not that."
I scanned again. About ten minutes from the third Terror Nun's room. I swallowed hard—voice low, even with no one else around. My comrades tilted their heads at my sudden shift but leaned in naturally, ears ready.
"Think back. Roughly how long from the first nun's room to the second?"
"Hm, fifteen or twenty minutes? Around there."
"Less than twenty."
"Then second to third?"
"About the same..."
"Why bring it up now?"
"Look at this."
I handed over the rough map I'd been sketching in real-time. Puzzled looks. I swallowed the urge to yell, grabbed the pen, and marked a dot.
"This is where we are now."
I drew a connecting line.
"Ten minutes from the third room, so within five to ten—high chance of a fourth around here. And..."
I extended lines of equal length into uncharted areas. They watched silently at first, then gasped as a 'pattern' emerged.
"Sacrifices!"
"Giant ritual pattern!"
"Yeah..."
I crammed the map away and spoke with dead seriousness—far beyond our first instance dive.
"Putting together everything we've pieced out—facts, evidence, guesses—this place on the surface isn't just some hideout."
Kaya and Shae's eyes shook wildly.
"The whole damn thing's a massive altar designed to offer sacrifices efficiently."
"...My god."
Kaya clutched her necklace, murmuring frantic prayers. Shae stabbed her claymore into the ground, head bowed, muttering something fierce—curses at the heretics, worse than ever. I tuned it out.
Felt like big trouble, but this is massive. Way beyond what three of us can handle?}
This wasn't just some fucked monster popping up. Something I'd never seen in The Long Terror.
Instance dungeons like this existed, but one where the entire instance was an altar for sacrifices? First time.
Is this some DLC event?}
Try as I might not to think like The Long Terror, unknown futures always left me leaning on those 3,000 hours of knowledge.
'Unprecedented catastrophe by terror birds on the surface' hit harder than 'DLC event.'
This place is huge. Even assuming they do nothing and just watch—factoring combat, rests, meals—minimum two days. And killing corrupted nuns might accelerate their plan. Can't just slaughter recklessly.}
Keep searching for the unknown dispatch team?
When the whole place could shift anytime?
Retreat... makes sense.}
Even stressing hero team safety first—could I tell my comrades, especially Kaya, to abandon her 'sisters' entirely?
To her, who felt pity amid the revulsion?
Fuck, so damn hard.}
* * *
"Saintess. The time draws near. Are preparations complete?"
"Funny. Do I even need to prepare?"
"You do. Mindset matters. That primal emotion all mortals share—it's crucial."
"My faith remains unbroken, yet you cage me here and mock me with this farce of 'Saintess.' I can't comprehend it, nor do I want to. So no—I'll never make your 'preparations.' Satisfied?"
"Hm."
The black-masked man stroked his chin with a faint sigh. The woman dubbed Saintess caught it.
"Not going according to plan? For someone who looks like they couldn't bleed, openly sighing."
"Never expected the Saintess to ask me that."
"Probably my sisters—far sturdier in faith—are dismantling this place right now. With colder resolve than ever."
"Can't deny it."
She frowned. No hint of fluster in his demeanor.
"As thanks for your first spark of interest in me, I'll share something you might wonder."
"Interest in you? What nonsense—"
"Three days from now—no, precisely two and a half. Then it all completes."
"You think my sisters—the church—will sit idle? Or that I'll bend to your twisted faith?"
"Just watch, Saintess."
"I've said it a hundred times. I'm a nun walking the path of mercy."
"See you tomorrow, then. Saintess."
He vanished into the shadows without waiting for her reply.
Her deep sigh, left alone, echoed nowhere—trapped.