Chapter 590: The Obstructors
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 590: The Obstructors
The night wind blew.
A faint white mist drifted from the Gulain River into the streets and alleys, like a maiden’s gossamer veil, shrouding the night scene in a hazy glow. But before it could fully blur the deep, rich crimson of the scene, it was scattered by fine silver threads falling from the sky.
"It’s raining."
An aged hand reached out from the carriage, feeling the cool touch of the late spring rain.
Watching the rain alone seemed to hold a certain poetic charm.
But he was not the only one watching the rain tonight.
There were many.
Accompanied by the creaking of old doors, figures emerged one after another from the houses, stepping out into the drizzling rain.
The spring night rain was still bone-chillingly cold, especially when it soaked through clothing to touch the skin. For an ordinary, frail person, such a downpour could lead to a severe illness.
Yet these people seemed completely oblivious to the chill.
Their clothes were tattered and worn, clearly marking them as the most destitute wretches of the Lower District. But now, they wore smiles of pure bliss. They walked into open spaces, singing and dancing, joyfully welcoming the arrival of the rain.
In the distance, there were occasional flashes of fire and the roar of explosions, accompanied by cries of despair and roars of fury. Yet, it was as if none of it could touch these people.
They danced and danced and danced in their happiness...
Until the rainwater pooling beneath their feet, at some unknown point, turned blood-red.
The crimson swirled, creating ripples and vortices, as if preparing to drag these dancing, happy souls down into an even deeper state of...
Thud.
In an unremarkable house nearby, a dull sound suddenly rang out.
One after another.
It sounded like something was being smashed to pieces.
There wasn't even time for a cry of despair or pain to be uttered.
The undulating red ripples came to a sudden halt. The dancing people stopped in their tracks, panting heavily as they looked around in confusion, clearly unable to grasp their current situation.
"Go back to sleep."
From the carriage not far away, the aged voice spoke again.
The carriage had been there all along, yet it was as if no one had noticed it. Even now, though the voice from within was resonant and clear, not a single person turned their attention toward it.
As a faint, holy light emanated from the Authority Ring on the outstretched hand, the chill and fatigue within everyone were swept away. They yawned and began walking back to their homes.
It was as if nothing had ever happened.
Presumably, when they woke up, they would be ready to greet a new day.
"Archbishop."
Sister Theresa emerged from the shadows.
"Everyone has been dealt with. Not a single one was spared."
"Good work."
Archbishop Canterbury pulled back the carriage curtain. His hand paused, and he let out a soft sigh. "Sister Theresa."
"Hmm? Does the Archbishop have some guidance for me?"
"As a nun serving the Goddess, you should still pay a little more attention to your decorum."
"Ah, my deepest apologies."
Sister Theresa, drenched in blood, felt her cheeks flush slightly. She tried to hide a head—its face still frozen in a mask of terror—behind her back, though she wasn't sure when she had picked it up. She said shyly, "After all, back when I was by the Former Saintess’s side, I never had the chance to personally purify so many evil believers. I got a little too excited."
"It seems you’ll need some time to adjust to this place," Archbishop Canterbury said, shaking his head. He didn't press the matter further. After all, the most devout faith often brewed the most terrifying madness; "weirdos" like Sister Theresa were not uncommon within the Church.
Looking past the courtyard wall that had been violently demolished, Archbishop Canterbury peered inside. Amidst the wreckage that looked as though it had been ravaged by a wild beast, he counted the number of limbs and realized that the number of evil believers who had perished here was even higher than he had imagined.
"After the Silent Moon incident, Belland put all its effort into purging evil believers. I thought things would be quiet for a long while. I didn't expect so much filth to accumulate again so quickly."
Archbishop Canterbury shook his head. "And of all things, those useless fools at the Silence Bureau have had their attention diverted by the Evil God incidents outside. We have to be the ones to wipe their asses for them. This feeling of being the backup called up to take charge is strangely irritating."
"It wasn't that many," Sister Theresa said, tapping her lip cutely. "After all, they were gone after a few thuds."
"...I’ll leave the support work for the Priest to you as well, Sister."
Canterbury rubbed his temples, waving her off as if he couldn't take any more.
"Eh? Is the Archbishop not coming along?"
"I won't be going."
"Why?"
"Because..."
Archbishop Canterbury looked toward the distance. "A troublesome old acquaintance has appeared. It seems I must meet him once more."
*
"Please, do not go any further, alright?"
The Indra King stopped in his tracks.
The surroundings were silent and deserted. He raised his head and looked toward the end of the road.
An old man in pure white divine robes stood directly in the drifting rain.
The old man had a white beard and hair, possessing a profound aura. A holy glow shimmered around him, and as the rain fell into it, it transformed into a faint mist that encircled him like a halo bestowed by the Goddess herself.
"You came after all," the Indra King said, his voice devoid of joy or sorrow, as if he had long expected this.
"Is this truly necessary?"
Archbishop Canterbury, having just arrived, let out a helpless sigh. "We talked so much before, yet you remain obstinate. It truly troubles me."
"I told you before as well—I cannot give her up."
The Indra King lowered his eyes. The wind and rain were cold, but many warm memories surfaced in his mind.
He had found that tiny infant, not even as large as his palm, in a carriage that had been attacked by bandits. Saving her had originally been nothing more than a whim of compassion.
But who could have guessed that the tiny, cute, fragile baby—whom he had intended to give to another family once she was healthy—would be like a seed? She had taken root in the depths of his heart, bringing a warmth he had never felt before.
From awkwardness to familiarity.
From fumbling in a panic to the skill of changing a diaper in five seconds.
From the nightly crying to that smile that could melt any sorrow.
From the fragility of swaddling clothes to babbling, to toddling steps, to the mischievous energy of a jumping child, and finally to that radiant smile when she looked back at him.
Everything had been constantly eroding and shattering the hard shell around his heart.
Perhaps, as an ascetic, yearning so much for the warmth and beauty of life meant he was destined to be punished by the gods. But...
Even now, when he closed his eyes, he could still recall those scenes.
"Ee-ee..."
"Ya-ya..."
"Ba-ba..."
"Papa."
"Please step aside."
The Indra King opened his clouded eyes, which looked almost blind. "I am going to save her!"
"That is not salvation!"
Archbishop Canterbury’s expression suddenly darkened. "You are merely making a little girl bear the guilt of your own powerlessness! If you truly cared for her, you should have let her find peace long ago!"
"Shut up!"
The Indra King erupted in a rare moment of true fury. Invisible ripples burst from his body, and the sky over the entire district seemed to be wiped clean by an eraser; countless raindrops vanished instantly.
"Step aside, Canterbury!"
"I will not!"
"This is not the Church. You cannot stop me. When it comes to saving people, I am not your equal, but when it comes to killing, you are not mine!"
"I am saving someone!"
"If you don't move, I will kill!"
A terrifying killing intent seemed ready to tear the entire district apart. The Indra King simply stood there with his hands clasped. Everything around him seemed to be encased in an intensely compressed bubble. Web-like cracks appeared on the walls and the ground, and rubble and dust floated upward, completely defying the laws of physics.
"Sigh, why must it be like this? Since no one here is a bad person, why don't we all sit down and have a nice, peaceful cup of tea?"
Suddenly, a light, airy voice rang out, acting like an inconspicuous needle that popped the terrifying low pressure.
The Indra King turned to look in the other direction.
It appeared to be an inn; a second-story window had just been pushed open.
An old gentleman, dressed exquisitely with a red rose pinned to his chest and his frost-white hair combed meticulously, stood by the window. He stared at them with a smile. Behind him, a graceful silhouette seemed to be hurriedly putting on clothes and fleeing in embarrassment.
The old gentleman’s poise wasn't affected by this minor flaw in the slightest. Instead, he waved at the Indra King as if they were old friends.
"Long time no see, Indra King. There is still an unsettled karmic debt between us, isn't there?"
"Adolf Lovis, the Stargazer?"
The Indra King’s gaze narrowed. "You’re here too? You really are everywhere."
"Sigh, honestly, I didn't want to get involved in this mess. After all, the Empire’s internal affairs have nothing to do with a Vice President of the Adventurer's Guild like me."
Adolf flamboyantly ran a hand through his hair and smiled. "But just like that dull, white-bearded old man over there, someone offered far too much. It was truly hard to refuse."
"Save that excuse for the children," the Indra King said expressionlessly. "I don't believe he could offer a price that the other side couldn't match. In the end, this is your own choice."
"Haha, true enough. But that kid’s womanizing ways are almost a match for mine. Although he’s eight leagues behind me when it comes to leaving a garden without a single leaf clinging to him—which makes me worry he might actually get dismembered by women in the future..."
Adolf winked. "But I once owed his old man a great favor. Before he gets torn apart by women, I should help him out where I can."
"And what about you? Are you also here because of a favor for the Lion King?"
The Indra King turned again, looking toward the fourth person who had been hidden there from the very beginning.
"The Lion King? Even the Lion King has to respectfully call me 'Professor' when he sees me. How could there be any talk of owing favors?"
Tuck.
A silver cane struck the cobblestones.
From a spot that had previously appeared empty, a figure emerged who had been standing there all along.
This was also an old man. Though aged, his back was as straight as a spear, and his spirit remained vigorous.
When that stern, old-fashioned face appeared, all the mana surging in the surroundings due to the clashing auras simultaneously calmed down, as if a sovereign had arrived.
"Professor Prang."
The Indra King finally couldn't help but sigh. "Even though this is my private matter, is St. Maria Academy going to interfere as well?"
"Whether it is your private matter or the Empire’s internal affairs, the Academy has no intention of meddling. I am only here out of a teacher’s concern for a student."
"I don't recall you being the type to dote on your students so much."
"Of course. The 'teacher' I’m referring to isn't me."
Professor Prang cleared his throat with a closed fist. "You should understand that if it weren't for certain restrictions... the one who came would not have been me."