Arietta in Crisis
Back in Kara, I permitted the Salvation Holy Knights to explore the Euroa Temple. I knew it was empty, but they needed to discover the truth for themselves to grasp the gravity of the situation.
They couldn't enter right away, though. The entrance, crafted by my runaway big sis's friend, only opened at specific times, like the primordial sanctum—meaning we'd have to wait quite a while. Until the Saint Euroa Day in summer, to be exact.
So I assigned them a plausible building as a monastery and let them stay in Kara. It cost a pretty penny, but that was fine.
If these guys got spotted by the sky city Chronos, my runaway big sis's friend's organization would be in deep shit.
Which meant I had to keep them right under my nose and watch them constantly.
Especially Alfredo Monk. That bumpkin monk turned out to be a 9-Cycle Holy Mage, the poster boy for ascetic saints. It was downright absurd. Even Mind Masters or 9-Cycle Mages had their quirky mindsets, but this guy took the cake. He was too pure for his power level—no ambitions, just lost in conspiracy theories.
Sure, he'd spent his life in some backwoods monastery, but still, it was a bit much.
At least it cleared up one mystery. I'd wondered why Nemisona's lackeys had joined the Salvation Holy Knights. Putting the pieces together, it made sense—they had no choice. Threaten Alfredo Monk, and he'd blow up in your face. His scriptures could only go to the Salvation Holy Knights.
Info gets shared among members, after all.
In short, Nemisona's minions had wormed their way into the Salvation Holy Knights out of necessity to achieve their goals.
'Anyway, most of Nemisona's lackeys are gone now, and the Salvation Holy Knights are stuck in Kara, so my runaway big sis's friend should be safer than before.'
Sabondia's group was plotting to preserve humanity and actually executing it—driving out the sky city Chronos and building an ark.
I had no intention of sabotaging that. Hell, I'd eliminate anyone who tried. If it succeeded, hundreds of thousands could survive.
And my name, plus a few close associates, would probably make the survivor list. I was their sponsor, after all.
'They'll hook me up with as many spots as I want, naturally. Hell, even that massive assassination plot was funded by my cash. I've made their jobs a breeze.'
But I wouldn't just leech off them. I'd help build the ark myself. Two arks were better than one, three better than two.
Building my own meant massively boosting Kara's tech and industry, though. A massive levitation ship to escape this world wasn't child's play.
Tech really was national power—raw strength.
"Lil' bro! I'm back!"
Armida sis burst into the office. I snapped out of my thoughts and greeted her warmly.
"Good trip?"
"Yeah."
"No issues?"
"Nope. No incidents this year."
I flashed a faint smile. I doubted it'd stay quiet all year. Something big was brewing soon—an extension of that massive assassination mess.
Shura slipped in right after.
"Master, I'm back."
"Good work."
"Master, I heard you went to the Divinum Cathedral?"
I answered casually.
"Yeah, the church had an urgent request. How'd you know?"
"Princess Ignes dropped a hint."
"Ah."
Armida sis jumped in.
"Hey, lil' bro, you should've stopped by if you were there. Why sneak off?"
"I was swamped. And it wasn't exactly a social call. A bunch died at the Divinum Cathedral this time."
"Oh, that big assassination at the Divinum Cathedral?"
"Yep."
Armida sis nodded vigorously.
"Yeah, it seemed huge. Even Nemisona was paying attention."
"Figures. She's the one behind it."
"Behind it? What do you mean?"
"Dug into it—the victims were an organization Nemisona nurtured. Long history, spotless rep."
Armida sis's eyes went wide.
"For real?"
"Dead certain. Told Sir Izenberg to go easy. No point airing dirty laundry."
Armida sis bit her lip.
"Damn, she screwed up again. Why does Nemisona keep stirring shit?"
"Why?"
"We Valkyries aren't supposed to meddle in worldly affairs, right?"
"Exactly."
"So what if she builds a secret group on earth to do her bidding?"
"Full-on meddling."
"Right? Prosia and Nemisona are gonna clash hard. If you're right, this is massive. Chronos'll be chaos for a while."
That was exactly why I'd spilled it—to screw with Nemisona a bit.
She'd claim she had to borrow human help to find my runaway big sis's friend, but who buys that? With history, tradition, structure, and scale like that? Secret orgs don't pop up overnight. They take years of effort.
"So what're you gonna do, sis?"
"Tell Prosia. Can't sweep this under the rug."
"Gotcha. Hold on."
I pulled a thick stack of documents about a handspan wide from the desk drawer and handed it to Armida sis. Sir Izenberg and the Purity Knight Order had compiled it from investigating the assassinated clerics. Not airtight, but enough to prove Nemisona's involvement.
"Take this. Case files on the incident. Gotta have evidence to grill her, right?"
Armida sis blinked in surprise as she took them.
"How'd you get this, lil' bro?"
"I helped with the investigation."
"No way."
"Yeah. Central Church has more details—ask them if you need."
"Cool. I'll head to Chronos now. You two mind the office."
"Sure, go ahead."
Armida sis left again. One heavenly taboo: no meddling in earthly matters. Exceptions for heavenly stuff only. Nemisona was in for hell.
'Alright, time to wrap this up.'
Nemisona would be too busy for earth stuff now. Perfect time to cut off her remaining tentacles.
Evelyn said they were hunting the assassination ringleaders with a big hit squad, but I worried they'd botch it. I'd watch from afar, then jump in if needed to finish clean.
***
It was a chilly evening at dusk, the sun setting grimly. The forest path, alive only with cricket chirps, felt downright eerie. Normally just a pastoral twilight scene, but the corpses strewn everywhere added a sinister chill.
Hood up tight, I tracked the assassination trail.
"Ughhh."
A pained groan echoed from somewhere. Approaching, I found a Holy Knight collapsed with a deep gash in his side.
I checked him out up close.
Blond, handsome young guy. Deep sword wound in the waist, flesh around it bluish—poisoned, too.
"Hey, wake up."
The young Holy Knight spat blood and rasped.
"Wh-who...?"
I pulled off my hood, showing my face.
"Knight from Beorn territory. A hunter reported a slaughter nearby, so I came to investigate."
Beorn was Viscount Beorn's land in Kern Kingdom. This mountain was part of it.
The Holy Knight grabbed my hand, face lighting up.
"Sir Knight! Hurry back to the territory, bring all troops. Great Saintess Arieta's in grave danger. Time's critical. Go!"
Arieta, the Great Saintess—the elf marriage scammer who made me a married man, vanished with Nemisona's lackeys.
"Oh, the missing Great Saintess?"
"Yes."
"Where'd she go?"
"Crossed this mountain half a day ago."
Half a day? I could catch up in an hour at a leisurely pace.
I fixed him with a murderous glare and drew Yojyo from my belt.
"Thanks for the info. Anyway, bye."
"Huh?"
I stabbed Yojyo into the shocked Holy Knight's forehead.
Standing, I frowned. These assassin punks didn't even confirm kills. If I were really a Beorn knight, Nemisona's top brass would've gotten a godsend reinforcement.
"Fucking amateurs. Take the money, do the job right. Good thing I came."
I headed the way the dead knight indicated, climbing again. Soon, I spotted a familiar corpse—the priest who'd guided Arieta to the Oracle Sanctuary a year ago and vanished with her.
'On the right track. Hold up.'
A weird vibe stopped me. Sharp presences in the bushes ahead. Faint auras, awkward mana flow—assassins for sure.
They hadn't spotted me yet, but pushing forward meant clashing eventually.
No choice—I detoured wide around the path. They weren't my match, but friendly fire was dumb. Better avoid.
Clang, clash, clash.
After a while, combat sounds echoed from afar. Focusing, I saw dozens tangled in fierce battle.
A brutal melee. Over a dozen Holy Knights, backed by an elf archer's ranged fire, fought off endless assassins. Looked hopeless.
A bloodied Holy Knight yelled at them.
"You scum! No fear of God? Why kill the Great Saintess heaven sent?!"
I scratched my nose at the clear voice. Sure, Great Saintesses were revered, but some treated them like roadside pebbles.
Like those assassins.
They did the church's ultimate taboo—murder—for the church's basest sin: money. Billions on the line? Saintess or god, didn't matter. Money was their god.
One assassin sneered, closing in.
"Heh heh heh. When'd God ever care about us? Those damn gods—if I see 'em, I'll rip their mouths off."
"Filth! You all crave the hellpit!"
"Yeah, toss me in. Now, not later. Heh heh heh."
The bloodied knight snapped, charging.
"You bastard!"
But he was spent. Barely swung before the assassins shredded him in a combo.
The one who knifed his throat smirked viciously.
"Holy Knight, no need to hunt hell. This is it. My blade's your great god to hell."
"Guh, cough."
The knight knelt to the cold earth. Fellow knights watched sadly but stayed put—rushing out would break formation.
Then everyone dies.
Whoosh.
An invisible arrow pierced the assassin's arm from behind the defense line.
He clutched the gushing wound, glaring at the woman elf with wind-tossed green hair. Arieta.
"You bitch! I won't kill you easy!"
Arieta gritted her teeth, raising her cherished Aslan high and firing. Countless invisible arrows arced through the air, raining on the assassins.
Screams pierced the air like gut stabs. Hidden assassins in bushes spewed blood and fell.
"You villains! Try killing us!"
Arieta's voice rang out defiantly amid the hail of poison darts and arrows from the bushes. Knights raised shields, but arrows pierced flesh anyway.
Death loomed heavy.
The knights eyed Arieta with shadowed despair, as if awaiting the end.
Aslan sang again. Invisible arrows flew from her strumming like harp strings, hunting fleeing assassins relentlessly, as if alive.
One assassin cracked under the losses.
"Damn it! Retreat, regroup!"
As they ebbed away like tide, Arieta wiped blood from her mouth and rallied them.
"Don't lose hope yet. Come on, everyone—chin up!"
"Yes!"
"Let's move before they regroup. Time's short—we must cross before nightfall."
Arieta swung Aslan, summoning gentle winds that enveloped the knights, healing wounds and restoring stamina. They hurried after her.
But hope was fleeting. Assassins pursued—and so did I.