Chapter 909: The Soother
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 909: The Soother
"Evil cultists?"
Krit stopped what he was doing and looked up, a hint of doubt flickering between his cold, sharp brows.
"At a time like this?"
He looked out at the night sky beyond the window and muttered, "That shouldn't be possible..."
Though the Royal Capital appeared calm on the surface, the Saint’s Eye had been working overtime to maintain order in the city's shadows. Any abnormality should have been detected by them immediately, rather than being "reported" by some so-called concerned citizen.
After all, these were the special circumstances of wartime. To ensure the capital remained stable, they had even drawn personnel from various regions—leaving some areas undermanned—to bolster the city's strength. Two weeks ago, they had joined forces with the Church to conduct a massive sweep, rooting out the cultists hiding within the capital.
That operation had been highly successful. A high-ranking figure in the Imperial Palace had provided crucial intelligence, allowing them to uproot long-standing "malignancies" without alarming the general public.
Yet, only a few days had passed. The bodies of those previous cultists weren't even cold yet, and new ones were already popping up?
Did they sprout like mushrooms?
Krit glanced at the cold drizzle outside the barred window and asked, "Is the intel confirmed? It’s not just another urban legend from some remote district, spread by meddling gangs to stir up trouble, is it?"
"Unlikely. The informant has a clean background. He’s a cemetery gravekeeper who served as a member of the clergy in his youth. He was only expelled for a minor offense and has shown no signs of associating with gangs since."
"A Church exile? I suppose those exist. Fine, as long as we aren't dealing with those filthy rats."
Krit’s expression soured at the mention of "gangs." It wasn't that he feared them, but rather that the chaos of the slums and the prevalence of gangs provided the perfect soil for "the eerie" to fester, making his job significantly harder.
He had tried to change the status quo, but the Saint’s Eye simply didn't have enough manpower to monitor the entire capital while simultaneously exterminating a massive, intricately connected web of "rats."
Moreover, that wasn't even within their jurisdiction.
The figure in the Imperial Palace was extremely wary of them. Because they handled matters related to Evil Gods and maintained deep ties with the Church, the Palace refused to grant them authority over any other affairs. Any attempt to overstep would result in immediate suppression.
At times like this, Krit couldn't help but envy the Empire’s Silence Bureau. Although they also focused solely on Evil God-related matters, they weren't shackled like his organization. The Silence Bureau held supreme decision-making power over such incidents—a power that, in some ways, was second only to the Emperor himself.
Consequently, even though they didn't participate in civil administration, many people regarded the Sword Bearer of the Silence Bureau as the second most powerful person in the Empire.
As for the head of the Saint’s Eye... who cared? He was just a guy who couldn't even get a seat at the table during a high-level banquet.
But there was no helping it. Ultimately, the Empire was fiercely independent; it didn't rely on the Church and loathed its infiltration, which was why it had built up the Silence Bureau as a massive, violent institution.
The Kingdom, however, was a nation with a massive population of Goddess of Life believers.
Cathedrals were as common as hair on an ox here, and faith in the Goddess was deeply rooted in the hearts of the people. The Church frequently took it upon itself to purge the eerie. Thus, their supposedly formidable special affairs department was, in many ways, nothing more than a vassal of the Church.
But even a vassal had its pride.
"Then let’s move," Krit said.
He pulled a pitch-black shortsword from his desk and tucked it into his boot, then began efficiently checking the rest of his gear.
"We’re already overlooked enough as it is. Let’s not give them a reason to say we’re slow on the draw."
"Yes, sir!"
The person outside the door hurried away. Within seconds, the quiet underground facility began to wake up.
Trained personnel hurried back and forth, heavy doors groaned open, and detailed intelligence reports were delivered to Krit in record time.
It had to be said that this was a rare instance of high efficiency among the Kingdom's various bureaucratic organizations.
But Krit had no time for self-congratulation. He mentally mapped out an action plan as he strode out of his room toward the assembly point.
Based on the intel, this was likely just a rare case of consecutive corpse reanimation—a "zombie" incident. It shouldn't take much effort to resolve. As for the "stranger's corpse" the informant mentioned, it was probably just...
"Mr. Krit."
Suddenly, someone called out to him.
Krit stopped and looked at the newcomer. It was a nun dressed in Church robes. She was beautiful, with a gentle temperament; every movement she made felt as warm as a spring breeze, devoid of any pretension.
However, Krit did not dare be disrespectful. He bowed his head in a polite greeting.
"Great Nun Adeline. It is late; have you not retired for the night?"
Krit’s posture was impeccable. This wasn't out of any particular reverence for the clergy, but because the woman before him was the "Great Nun" recently dispatched by the Church to assist them in purging cultists. In terms of both strength and status, she was slightly superior to him, the head of this Saint’s Eye branch.
Fortunately, as a nun of the Church, Adeline was indifferent to fame and fortune. She had shown no intention of using her power or status to take over the branch, and she remained consistently polite toward Krit.
"I was asleep just a moment ago," Sister Adeline replied with a smile and a nod. "But seeing how busy you all are, how could I possibly stay tucked away in a warm bed? Naturally, I wish to contribute my part."
"The Great Nun is most kind, but tonight is merely a small matter. It shouldn't require your personal intervention."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. It’s just a gravekeeper reporting signs of cultist activity in his cemetery. Our preliminary assessment suggests the man was simply spooked by an anomaly and overreacted out of nerves."
Krit flipped through the reports in his hand. "A minor issue like this will likely be resolved quickly. It really isn't worth disturbing you."
"I see..."
Sister Adeline nodded. "Very well then. I won't keep you. Come back safely, Krit."
"It is we who should apologize for disturbing your sleep."
After their polite exchange, Krit turned to leave. But before he had gone far, Sister Adeline called out to him again.
"By the way, may I ask what exactly happened to make a gravekeeper mistake something for cultist activity? Generally speaking, a gravekeeper shouldn't be so easily frightened."
"True enough," Krit explained patiently. "But a series of corpses turning into zombies is indeed rare. Even an experienced gravekeeper might find it difficult to handle. That’s normal. As for the other phenomenon mentioned in the report—the sudden appearance of a stranger's corpse in the cemetery..."
"We suspect the gravekeeper has been drinking too much, leading to memory lapses. He likely forgot a body he buried himself. The report notes he has a long history of alcoholism."
"I see. It does sound like a trivial matter not worth mentioning."
[As I thought, has a large-scale loophole appeared?]
[I must deal with this quickly.]
Sister Adeline gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. Her movements were slow and meticulous, her arm passing over her face like a shadow moving with the light, briefly obscuring those beautiful, gentle eyes.
As the shadow passed, her beauty and gentleness remained unchanged.
"I think I shall accompany you after all."
"Eh?" Krit blinked, stunned. "Why? I already said it’s just a small matter..."
"The matter may be small, but I believe..."
Sister Adeline clasped her hands together, her expression radiating holy compassion.
"That poor, frightened old gravekeeper must be in desperate need of the Goddess's comfort."