Chapter 105
Chapter 105
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 105
Chapter Title: Something Happening Somewhere
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While a man and a woman were locked in a frenzy of bestial sex at some pig farm somewhere...
In a completely different place,
a location where iridescent, beautiful light filtered through colorful stained glass depicting columns of pure white marble and the image of a benevolent goddess shone upon a statue of the goddess herself, smiling with equal purity and benevolence.
As one could see, amid an atmosphere brimming with reverence and sanctity dedicated to worshiping their god, two women stood there.
Each one was an exquisite flower, beauties so stunning that even the moon in the night sky might hide its face in shame.
"Ah...!?"
The woman with flowing lavender hair, who had been praying with her hands clasped in imitation of the goddess statue—her eyes closed, a benevolent smile on her lips—suddenly shuddered lightly and let out a soft sigh.
The silver-ponytailed woman in armor, who had been standing silently behind her, gazing steadfastly at her as she prayed, hurried over in alarm.
"Saintess?"
"Just now, the remaining two brothers departed for His side."
"!"
The woman with long, ankle-length half-twin tails—the Saintess—lifted the white, translucent veil covering her face, wiped away her tears, and uttered a single tear-choked word. The silver-haired knight shuddered just as faintly as the Saintess had moments before, swallowing a groan.
"...In the end, those two brothers have gone to His side as well."
The two brothers—heartbreaking news among the most devout believers of the Goddess Church, the continent's state religion. Like the silver-haired woman before her, they were Crusaders who served closest to the Saintess and proudly called themselves the blades of the goddess.
After a brief moment of mourning for the two brothers—drawing a small holy sign and observing silence—the Saintess bowed her head toward the goddess statue and spoke.
"Already four... Four brothers who departed for that place, the Black Mountain Foothills, at my command..."
"They were men ready to gladly lay down their lives to eradicate evil and protect the light and justice He bestowed upon this land. And it was I who selected them and gave the order..."
The Black Mountain Foothills, located at the northern edge of the continent—a holy site where the goddess who created this land and molded its life first descended in ancient times, now defiled by the hands of degenerate hordes. For the Goddess Church, it was a place that must one day be reclaimed.
Four brothers had met their end there, ascending to the goddess's side.
Normally, they should have been here guarding this sacred place alongside the silver-haired woman.
But there was the disappearance of the continent's sole Grand Master,
and the Holy Knights who had set out on reconnaissance to the Black Mountain Foothills to verify the oracle the goddess herself had delivered—
unfortunately, during the recent great purge operation, they had survived and encountered the degenerate horde leading its remnants northward. Two fell in battle, martyred in a distant land.
According to reports, that degenerate horde had clearly been reduced to a pitiful shadow of its former self after the operation, barely avoiding extinction.
And though their leader was indeed an extremely dangerous figure who had inflicted heavy casualties on allied forces even during the great purge,
due to the aftereffects of injuries from that operation, prolonged flight causing starvation and exhaustion, it should have been an opponent they could easily vanquish, even if it surpassed the Crusaders in skill.
But as the saying goes, a cornered rat will bite a cat?
To think it not only killed two brothers but then led its horde in flight on top of that!
The surviving two brothers had reported pursuit of the enemy, then lost contact. A few days later, today, they too had ascended to the goddess's side, just like the first pair.
It was her own failure.
From the moment the report came in that the enemy had been sighted, she should have immediately dispatched reinforcements.
Though the Church lacked ordinary soldiers unlike the kingdom, she should have sent elite Crusaders—a hundred men strong in defense of the goddess—to support her brothers.
Now, twice their number—eight brothers in total—had set out to at least recover the bodies of the remaining four. They would arrive there soon.
If only she, the silver-haired woman, could have gone herself... But she was bound to serve and protect the woman before her, the Saintess, at all times.
As long as the Saintess did not personally step forward, she could not leave her side—such was the sacred duty of the Holy Knight Captain.
Yet she could only watch as her brothers died!
But what on earth? Though it had slain two brothers, the fact that it fled afterward afterward meant it no longer had the strength to fight.
It had sensed its defeat and run.
p>Tenacious as those creatures were, deprived of food and proper treatment, it was only natural.
A prolonged battle would be the sure path to defeat—nothing short of certain loss.
That meant not just the horde, but the hand of someone else was likely at work...
The silver-haired knight suddenly recalled another degenerate horde dwelling near the Black Mountain Foothills.
'Could it be the barbarians beyond the foothills? Have they already allied with that degenerate horde...?!'
The ferocious barbarians beyond the Black Mountain Foothills, prowling the frozen lands like beasts eyeing this fertile continent—it was possible.
History recorded that they had repeatedly allied with those degenerate hordes to threaten this land.
And above all, there lurked the missing supreme knight, Eleonora Croft, and the barbarian princess Urga—her sole rival, who had crossed swords with her multiple times and lived.
The knight pictured the bronze-skinned, black-haired female warrior who roamed the frozen wastes half-naked, then quickly shook her head.
'But after their crushing defeat at Lady Eleonora's hands last time, they surely haven't recovered their strength yet. They couldn't even cross the mountains, too busy licking their own wounds...'
They were barely surviving themselves—how could they aid anyone else?
Though the gap in skill between Urga and the brothers was like that between a savage bear and an unarmed commoner, Urga herself was too preoccupied rebuilding her tribe to intervene.
"Hng... Ch-Christia...!"
"Saintess?!"
Deep in thought, Christia—the Holy Knight Captain—snapped to attention as the Saintess shuddered violently and called her name. She rushed to her side, dropping to one knee to check on her.
"What is it?! Are you alright?!"
"Haa... haa..."
'Not during this time of all times?!'
It happened occasionally. Though their faith was directed toward the goddess, the Saintess was called her proxy on earth. Not comparable to the goddess herself, but she received ample worship and devotion in turn.
The Holy Knights—sometimes crudely called the goddess's fanatics—venerated and respected her as well. Thus, the Saintess and Holy Knights were faintly connected to each other, much like to the goddess.
If the Saintess was the great root, then the Holy Knights and devout believers were the fine tendrils linked to her?
That was how she had sensed the deaths of those Holy Knights far away and grieved for them. What she had been doing until now was tracing their final moments through that faint bond before it snapped.
In other words, though she couldn't see everything the two newly deceased brothers had witnessed before dying, she could glimpse fragments of that instant.
But,
"Hnggh...?!"
"Saintess!! Someone, anyone!!"
"H-Haaah... Th-this, what iiiis thiiiis...?!"
Something was wrong. Normally, a Crusader's final moments were serene, like a deep mountain spring.
Even if their death was undignified—say, collapsing in the road—they harbored no regrets.
They took pride in a lifetime of service to the goddess.
And death allowed them to depart to her side with that pride intact.
It was a fitting end for fanatic Crusaders, but the Saintess now clutching her chest and panting was clearly abnormal.
Holy Knight Captain Christia hurriedly supported the Saintess and called for help.
"Saintess, what in the world are you seeing—"
"Corruption...!"
"Pardon?"
Corruption? Suddenly? Why?
Was she hearing correctly? Before Christia could recover from her bewilderment, the Saintess placed her hand on the pure white gauntlet, her face strangely flushed, and continued.
"Confusion, shock, rage... and corruption. In the final fragments the two brothers saw before departing, they confronted an unbearable swamp of fury mingled with lust, carnal desire, shame, humiliation—all manner of depravity swirling in a sticky mire impossible to escape. How could it be so potent...♥"
What was she saying? What on earth had the brothers seen in their final moments?!
But that wasn't the priority right now.
Haa...! Haa...!
"No! Sever it now! It's dangerous!"
"J-just a little more... Just a bit longer, and I can uncover its true nature. It's lingering so intensely... If I peer just a little deeper, I can find the source of that corruption... and the woman embracing it, and the identity of this faint light...!"
No good.
This was far too dangerous. Christia found herself breathing unevenly, just like the Saintess, as a murky, viscous black aura rose around her.
"Ngh?!"
'To affect even me to this extent—what incredible power...?!'
She shared a faint soul-link with the Saintess, like the brothers had. Even indirect exposure was reaching her.
Not even facing it directly, just being nearby, and she felt her body slowly heating up.
For the Saintess, directly connected, it was far worse.
"Hng, just a little... just a little more...!"
The Saintess, bewildered by the corrupt aura, had her sacred veil and robes—sensors of her soul—flickering black intermittently. A seductive allure began to emanate from her confused form.
The Saintess, raised in purity her whole life, was being forcibly dragged into femininity.
'No more! Whatever it is, this has to stop! Too dangerous!'
Finally, Christia drew her sword from her waist, gripped it in reverse, and slammed it into the floor with all her might.
"Holy light, grant this frail servant the unyielding will to stand firm."
As Christia prayed urgently amid the Saintess's rising moans of ecstasy, a burst of holy light erupted around her, enveloping the Saintess's sweat-drenched, gasping body.
With the Saintess and her own minor miracle from the goddess, the heaving woman gradually regained steady breaths.
"I thought I could see it..."
"That was too dangerous. You nearly..."
It had been a close call. She thought she could purify it, overcome it—but that vile energy clearly surpassed their wildest imagination.
Luckily, Christia had been there. A moment longer, and that sticky mire would have left her helpless.
Supported by Christia, the Saintess rose, gazing up at the goddess statue with a face still flushed from lingering effects.
Eleonora's disappearance, the deaths of the Holy Knights, and now this filthy, utterly depraved corrupt aura emerging from somewhere.
"What in the world is happening to this land..."
Was this mere coincidence? Or a new trial from the goddess? Silently bowing her head, the Saintess looked down at her thighs, slick with something sticky.