Apostle of Mercy - 3
Rough breathing echoed around them.
Huff... huff... The labored breaths of the executives climbing the mountain mingled with Shartia's own, resounding from midway up the slope.
"It's too dark."
The beam of light that had once pierced the clear sky had faded into a crimson dusk. The warm air that had beaded sweat on their foreheads now blew a chill that raised goosebumps.
Gazing at the setting sun, Hanna muttered to herself.
"...We should head back."
If the carriage path hadn't collapsed midway, they would have arrived long ago. Despite leaving early, Hanna eyed their delayed progress with skepticism.
'This is weird.'
She didn't swallow her unease but voiced it to Shartia. Sharing even vague suspicions could avert disaster.
A sudden thought crossed her mind, and she spoke up.
"Hey, it's getting really late. Wouldn't it be better to turn back now? We could start again at dawn tomorrow."
Shartia nodded slowly, glancing at the sky.
"...You're right."
It was dark. Eerily so. In the mountains, nightfall came even sooner. Shartia murmured softly to herself, then raised her head to address the disciplinary leader at the front. The search for the missing was crucial, but safety came first.
"Everyone...!"
"This works out perfectly!"
Rohan, the disciplinary leader, cut her off sharply. Academy students wouldn't be deterred by a little threat.
"Swordsmanship students train in night operations as a basic skill—their night vision is sharp. It's just as dark for them as it is for us, so this is fine."
As a swordsmanship division member, Rohan puffed out his chest proudly, emphasizing how superior swordsmen were to ambush-dull mages. He quickened his pace up the mountain.
Shartia halted, calling out to him.
"Wait a moment, Rohan."
Without turning, Rohan replied.
"We need to climb before it gets darker. Student. Council. President."
"I know, so just hold on. Catch our breath, gather opinions, and decide together."
"I know the way."
"I said wait."
Ignoring her hesitation, Rohan pressed on, determined to restore the disciplinary division's tarnished honor in one decisive move.
"I saw it myself," he said as he climbed, recounting what his eyes had witnessed.
"A little further up, there's a flat area with a small church... no, a cabin. I saw it clearly."
"Church?"
Shartia glared at him, questioning the word. That wasn't what he'd told her.
"What are you talking about? You said it was a cabin. A cramped one that could barely fit thirty people—you said it yourself."
"..."
"Hey. Rohan."
"Why not seize this chance to fully reclaim our honor?"
"You call that—"
Rohan's face hardened as he forged ahead. His followers snickered, chattering about wrapping it up quick for drinks later.
Click.
Shartia bit her nail.
"Wait first. Punishment later—just listen to me..."
Rohan interrupted, addressing his team.
"Disciplinary division. Follow me."
"I said wait."
"..."
Rohan was off. Unusually silent since ascending, stubborn as if possessed, he marched on with the certainty of victory.
Hanna tilted her head, glaring at him, hand on her sword hilt, ready to strike if needed.
"Student Council President."
Click.
"Should we just leave them?"
Click...
"President?"
Hanna grabbed Shartia's hesitating shoulder. The higher they climbed, the stranger Shartia seemed—biting nails she never touched, shaken by minor variables despite her rational nature.
Startled by the touch, Shartia whipped around.
"Huh?"
"What's wrong with you too, President?"
"...Nothing. Just."
Hanna shot a glare at Rohan leading the way.
"This is obviously weird, right?"
"..."
"Like he's possessed or something?"
"...Yeah."
"He wasn't this bad. Stubborn, sure, but he always listened to you. Order matters, after all."
"...True."
"It's weird... Should we ditch them? Following someone who won't listen is just asking for trouble."
Hanna muttered, eyeing Rohan's back.
"And heretics, anyway. A church in the mountains screams it."
Click.
Shartia shook her head, insisting they couldn't abandon students.
"Follow for now. If something happens, we run then."
"What if we can't?"
"Then we use this."
Shartia showed her ring, reassuring Hanna. The red-gemmed artifact summoned the imperial knights.
"If you say so, President. Sigh..."
"Just bear with it a bit."
"Got it."
Hanna glanced around warily, checking for followers, sharpening her senses as she trailed Rohan.
They walked on. Past the time to reach the summit, yet still midway, circling without progress.
Why no headway? Hanna looked up at the exhausted executives.
"Haa... Where is it?"
"Are we even going the right way?"
"Fuck... I said I wouldn't follow, so why drag me?"
Hanna voiced the oddity loudly enough for Rohan to hear.
"...Everyone, stop."
"..."
"I said stop!"
"..."
"Don't you all think this is weird?"
She glared at the frozen frontliners. The undeniable reality closed in.
"Why are you all just following?"
Shaking her head, Hanna took a deep breath.
"This is seriously off."
"..."
"Right?"
"...Just forward."
"Shut up and be quiet."
At her command, silence fell. The moonlit sky was beautiful—what could be wrong? But goosebumps prickled the executives' skin.
...
"Hear that?"
...
"No sounds at all right now."
Staring into the foggy forest, Hanna's voice dripped irritation.
"Fog's too thick to see, no beast cries, not even insects... Nothing!"
Her shout echoed blankly through the deep woods. It's wrong. Turn back now. The plea spread into the darkness.
"..."
The frontliners finally sensed the wrongness, glancing around, hands on swords. Only Rohan stared ahead, marching silently.
"Don't be scared."
"Leader?"
"No fear. Forward."
"Leader, what's wrong?"
"Go."
Goosebumps crawling up his spine, one member grabbed Rohan's shoulder.
And then.
"Gaaahhh!!!"
Rohan's cold sweat soaked the hand. The member's face paled as he collapsed.
"L-Leader...? What's happening?!"
"G-Go..."
Rohan was rigid, staring ahead with a ashen face, trembling like aspen leaves.
"Forward!"
As if his mouth moved against his will.
"Go forward!"
His body shuddered as he bellowed.
"What the...?"
Hanna reeled at the unfolding scene. In the blinding fog, these people were all she had.
"...Fuck."
Realizing their guide was compromised, she drew her sword, gathering aura. To clear the fog, she raised it high.
And then.
"...Ha."
The thick fog parted, revealing a small church ahead. The one Rohan mentioned. That sinister place.
A wide yard. A building with a bell tower. Lights in every window.
An eerie wind began to blow.
Lord, have mercy!!!!
Prayers erupted from within—loud enough to have been heard all along, carrying a chilling aura.
"...Isn't that our underclassman's voice?"
A familiar cry, met with recognition.
My Lord, forgive this sinner... Forgive this sinner's incompetence!
Thunderous prayer echoed grotesquely. Shadows of clasped hands flickered in the windows; watchers' palms sweated.
No reason known. Just an inexplicable dread weighing on shoulders.
"This is... fuck."
Hanna, sensing disaster first, spun and shouted.
"Everyone, snap out of it...!"
...
Her grimace faded to emptiness. All executives frozen in place.
"..."
Bodies wouldn't move. Except Mihail, Hanna, and Yuria—no one could turn from the church.
Trembling legs from thick fear rippled pupils; ragged breaths primed the coming terror.
Shartia, paralyzed by dread, stared at the towering steeple, swallowing hard.
Something's wrong.
Chills. The faint light leaking from the top felt ominous. The flickering shadow in the round window seemed to lean out, watching her.
'Run.'
Her instincts danced under a quivering voice.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Fingers wouldn't budge. Activate the artifact—fear locked them.
Her heart pounded ten heavy beats.
Click.
The steeple's lights began extinguishing. One. Two. Three. The watcher above doused them, descending.
Impossible to hear, yet.
Clack.
This distance, footsteps? Absurd, yet.
Clack.
Stair-descending steps rang vividly in Shartia's ears.
She squeezed her eyes shut, screaming inwardly.
'Please...'
Move!
Time soaked her in cold sweat. As the ground floor light died.
The church door creaked open with a grotesque groan.
Kiiiiieeeek...!!!
Blind darkness within. No light escaped the gap. Only shadows of youths inside.
Nothing visible.
Clack.
"Gulp..."
Clack...
"...Please."
Clack...
An elderly woman's silhouette emerged beyond the door. A middle-aged woman in white burial robes stepped out slowly, so slowly.
"Ah... New devotees have arrived."
She smiled brightly.
"What to do? I haven't prepared dinner."
The 40-something woman locked eyes with Mihail.
"Come inside first. There's so much good word."
Clutching a black bible, cruelly.
"Isn't there, Mihail?"
Invoking someone's nightmare, she opened her mouth.
"Saint 'Yung' told me all about you."