Report on the Fall of Purity (3)
Guido led Cain and Lily into the main hall. It wasn't the sharp spire of a typical city or village chapel. It was a much lower, gently sloping stone building.
Guido let out a heavy sigh in front of the massive door and flung it open. A nauseating stench rushed out to greet them. Followed by a wail that shook their entire bodies. A low woong, woong. The sound of someone too exhausted to even cry properly, their body vibrating with the effort. The kind of howling they'd mistaken for wind outside.
Crushed people lay bound to beds. More than fifty of them, all of them. Far worse than the sketches had shown. As if a giant had rolled them around just short of bursting.
Cain, Lily, and Guido drew closer. Two nurses attended each bed. But even that didn't seem enough. Those sprawled on the beds thrashed endlessly. Clank. Clank. Bound tight with iron chains, yet they strained to break free.
"Every bone in their bodies is broken, fused back together all wrong. Shattered fragments pierce muscle and flesh, causing hematomas, but we can't calm them—they won't stay still for a second..."
Ughhh. The second nurse from the left clamped her hand over her mouth and bolted out. Guido rushed to fill the empty spot.
Clank! Clank! The chains went taut. The crushed figure writhed. Broken bones protruded from arms and legs through the skin.
"Eat! You have to eat!"
The nurse tried desperately to pour porridge into his mouth, but the bound man refused stubbornly. He jerked his body back and forth violently, slamming himself against the bed. Blood trickled from his back where it struck.
"There might be a way!" the nurse shouted. It was futile. In the end, she hurled the bowl to the floor. The wooden vessel bounced instead of shattering, and the spoon skittered off somewhere unseen.
Cain understood. They want to die. They refuse food, water. The pain stabs from within, driving them mad, but they can't voice it—only spit out bloody clots. The one battering his own body finally passed out. The blood flowing outward halted abruptly, then trickled back inside as if it were the most natural thing. Sluggish, twitching, like a drunkard finally crawling home. The bruises subsided, the torn wounds slowly knit. But the marks of torment and abuse remained.
"A miracle."
No laughter, no joy. Only sorrow and emptiness.
Cain wondered if Guido had misspoken the word curse. But Guido repeated hollowly, "If we don't call this a miracle, what else? The blood returns, the wounds heal. They can't even die unless they try—and they refuse food and water. God knows what happens then. Even they don't know. But one thing's clear: they want to die. And they know suicide's an unforgivable sin."
Tears flowed silently from the crushed man's eyes. Guido wiped them with the hem of his robe.
"You've come from the capital. Do you know who did this? Why?"
Cain clung to his fraying focus. He could only nod. He approached the fallen man.
"Can't they speak at all?"
"No one can. Their throats were crushed, tongues ripped out—they can only wail."
"What about moving?"
"Tendons in their limbs pulverized, muscles shriveled."
Guido's voice was leaden. "Strangest thing—they don't heal from that. Only once did we try rebreaking their misaligned bones to set them right... It failed. They snapped back exactly like this. If passing out is mercy, then mercy it is."
Pain. Pure intent to inflict pain, nothing more. That's all Cain could think. Trapping the mind in its own flesh for endless torture.
Cain glanced at Lily. She clenched her fists. Unlike Cain, she hadn't even seen the sketches.
Groooaaarrr.
Light flashed. From the center of the chapel. A figure bound to an ornate bed radiated light from his entire body. Above him, the ceiling was a circular opening, multicolored beams streaming through stained glass.
Cain, Lily, and Guido approached the man. Unlike the others, his body was even more wretched. Inverted ribs tore through his lungs like a bird's wings, jutting outward. Legs and arms fused to his torso with what looked like molten iron. Only his genitals. Only his genitals remained intact.
"The Knight of Purity, William Archbishop. Holy Knight of the Mercy Order, one of the Seven Heroes, serving as archbishop."
The archbishop rocked back and forth too, but not violently. Without his pitiful form, Cain might have thought he was laughing. No—he was laughing. Tears streamed from unblinking eyes, drool poured from his mouth, and he burst into laughter as if the world were pure delight.
"...He eats well. Sleeps well. What kind of goddamn bastard..."
Guido clutched his face.
"Sword sheath."
Lily murmured, pale as a ghost.
"What?"
Cain turned. Guido lowered his hands.
"What did you say?"
"Sword sheath. Beaten with a sword sheath."
Wooo, wooooh. The archbishop wailed. Like a primal being from before language, desperate to expel sorrow and agony with his whole body. Those wiping his body, those praying silently, those bound and howling—all wept together. Soon it became a vibration shaking the hall. Eerily like an a cappella hymn. The kind choirs rehearse all week for Sunday services.
It wasn't just the bedrock that kept the well dry. This place was near the mountaintop—groundwater scarce, digging impractical.
Instead, water seeped plentifully from rock crevices. A stained brook trickled between boulders, grooves worn smooth over ages. As if a master sculptor had carved it. Angels adorned the gaps: hands clasped in prayer, cracks forming slyly closed eyes, like smiling, weeping seraphs.
Normally, it might draw a smile. Not now.
Beside the babbling brook sat countless figures, slumped. Off-duty nurses, exhausted knights. A bit removed from the abbey, wind or wails muffled here. But the only respite spot around. No one stared as someone bowed their head and sobbed silently. The weeping spread like contagion. Soon all murmured prayers, joining in low recitation.
Cain stared blankly at drifting clouds. No thoughts came. No words surfaced. He'd seen it all in Security Bureau work—or so he'd thought. But that didn't mean numbness to everything.
Right beside him, Lily hugged her knees, trembling. She'd feigned composure inside, but outside, she'd clutched her face and fled to a corner. Like ghosts, they'd wandered here unconsciously, sitting dazed like the others, eyes on the sky.
Cain gently wrapped an arm around Lily's. She still quivered faintly.
He nodded toward a spot away from the brook. Sparse trees offered partial cover for body and voice. A fallen log made a fine seat.
"Sword sheath?"
Cain kept his voice low. Lily glanced around, wary of ears, then whispered back.
"Yes. Definitely. The bruises and spacing match the standard imperial sword sheath. I didn't measure directly, but by eye..."
Why a sheath? Cain shook his head hard. He recalled the victims' bodies. No slashes, piercings, burns. Just blunt impacts, as Lily said.
"How'd you know at a glance...?"
Lily turned away quietly.
"...I've taken plenty of hits from one."
Her shoulders shook. Cain didn't press. He pictured the venomous face of the White Blood Knight Order leader, screaming on campus. Malice. How much malice to beat someone like that? To crush people so utterly? If not malice, pure sadistic glee? Cain couldn't say. Fingers shattered one by one, twisted, pulverized—maybe.
And miracles on top. Miracles weren't Security Bureau turf. Church business. Though Anna had said they wouldn't have called the Empire if the Church could handle it.
"Lily."
She startled, turning. Hadn't they agreed no names?
"Yes."
"I gotta catch this bastard."
Cain gripped his staff tightly.
"See the face of whoever did this shit. This... this ain't right. I've seen plenty of human scum treating others like toys for fun. But none this obsessive, this meticulously malicious. At least those had reasons. This? Pure purpose."
Lily stopped trembling. She drew a steadying breath, honing a dull blade. Agent first, knight before that.
"What purpose do you see, sir?"
"Warning."
Cain gripped his staff harder.
"Lily. This is a warning. A provocation. Total powerlessness—even death on their terms denied. 'Try stopping me if you can.' A beast defending turf, crushing beyond need so no one dares again. He won't stop here. Two down? The other five could be next."
Lily exhaled sharply, passion flaring.
"What should I do?"
"Start here."
Cain thumped the ground with his staff.
"Archbishop was attacked elsewhere. Mercy Knights brought him. They know the scene. Gather what we can: when and where he was found, how they transported patients, Church intel on his movements. Every detail. Investigate separately, cross-check."
"Understood."
"Good. You canvass the knights. I'll head to the cathedral."
"The cathedral?"
Cain nodded.
"Need another look at how the archbishop was hit."