Chapter 125: 125. Facing The Reality

Sylvester sat there silently, staring at the lifeless body of Shane and his mother. How could everything turn out so bad so suddenly? He had killed the bloodling; the town should have been in a festive mood, not this… wasteland.

Bam!

The monastery was falling apart slowly since the floors above were still covered in fire. But Sylvester remained there, staring at the burnt face of Shane… wondering how much the pain must have been for the little kid.

"Maxy." Miraj tried to warn Sylvester of the approaching fire.

Sylvester breathed out and closed his eyes before standing up abruptly. "Life in this world—to call it uncertain is an understatement. I hope you find peace and warmth in the next life…Shane Kolt…and you too, Lady Kolt."

Sylvester stepped back and let out the fire magic. Since it was magical, its effects were much quicker than normal and soon turned both bodies into ash. "Chonky, do you have any containers to store their ashes?"

Miraj nodded and quickly got Sylvester a small metal flask. Sylvester didn't waste a moment, gathered some ashes, and walked back. He was shaken, and his mind was saddened. But life must go on, which was one thing he was good at pushing himself for.

Bam!

As he walked away, the monastery started to collapse, and by the time he got out, it was in ruins. He stopped there and took one last glance at it. "I guess this town was not haunted by the Bloodling… but a curse."

"Max!"

Just then, Sir Dolorem and Gabriel arrived with a makeshift stretcher with them, on which Felix rested. They probably hoped to use the monastery for shelter.

Sylvester did not reply, however, and looked around at the Sphinx town. For as far as he could see, the houses were gone, the distant town's walls were gone… the destruction was inhumane and not something a simple fire could do.

"Did you find someone alive there?" Gabriel asked him. Of course, he didn't want to take the name, fearing the worst.

Sylvester just showed a flask full of ashes. "He died—painfully."

Now there was a hint of anger in his voice. Shane's death did make a dent, but the real outrage was aimed at how he died. The cries of pain and help… for nobody to come… that was frustrating to imagine.

Sylvester walked up to Felix, who appeared to be in a state of shock as well, with his eyes open yet hazy. "Who was it?"

Felix scowled all of a sudden, and rage took over him. He started hitting his own head with the healed hand. "I don't know… they came out of nowhere and started killing. I tried my best but… I was just a toy in their eyes. We're fucking weak, Max… we're nobodies… Shane… he died trying to save the patients in the monastery… only for it all to go to waste… I couldn't do anything—nothing. They just…"

"But who were they? What did they do-" Sylvester abruptly stopped as he was inquiring further.

"Ugh!"

Thud!

Suddenly, Sylvester felt as if he was a thousand feet underwater, and his body was being pressurized from all sides, pulling him down and inwards.

"W-What's happening?"

At another glance, he noticed Sir Dolorem, Gabriel, Bishop Lazark, and even Felix were in a similar situation, falling to the ground flat on their bellies, panic clear in their eyes, and unable to sit up. They appeared worse than him.

Click!

Click!

The sound of something periodically hitting the ground resounded from behind them. Sylvester could not see anything as he was looking away from them.

'This is bad!' The scent told him a lot, however. 'Why is this feeling of death here… it's even worse than that, Bloodling! What's there? Assassins?'

Sylvester was never going to accept his death without even facing the enemy. So he poured all his remaining physical strength into getting up. He also started to sing hymns in his mind and create that halo, as he believed it would give him some sort of a boost.

"Haaaaaa… Ugh!" He put everything in it, albeit feeling the body-shattering force hurting every cell in his body.

Slowly, he got to his knee and started to turn around. 'I can't… What is this pressure? How are they holding us down without touching us?'

Sylvester finally turned around, yet couldn't stand on his feet. So he remained sitting on his knees. The rain was going even harder at this point, making it hazy. But at one glance, Sylvester could figure out there were at least five figures, ranging from as tall as seven feet to as short as five.

Shane's last words rang in his ears, making him wonder. 'These must be the monsters.'

The five figures slowly walked closer and finally showed their faces. It appeared there were four men and one woman, all wearing strange clothing of varying colors. One of them was seven feet tall, like a giant.

"Oh no… look what we did to the famous bard… his clothes have been spoiled." The slender woman, bright red-haired in two ponytails, wearing a noble pink gown too big for her size, walked closer to Sylvester and knelt a little to lift his head from the chin.

Sylvester looked at her face closely, and he knew what that smile meant. It was sadistic and mocking him, while the scents told him these were no allies, for there was the bitterness of death still lingering. Her red eyes, too, held a look of uncaring.

Sylvester had to push hard to speak. "Who are you?"

"Hehe…" The woman jumped back like a doll while laughing. "Such a strong boy… Master Null, can I open him and see where the light comes from? Pretty please?"

'What madness is this?'

"No, Spine… we need him alive… he's far too valuable that way." The man named Null, a tall, serious-looking man in gray robes with a white hood, replied. Sylvester only felt the aura of death from this man, who appeared too creepy with his strange yellow eyes.

Sylvester could not understand who these people were. Not to mention, how were they holding him down all this time?

"Who sent you?" He questioned in complex growls.

The woman skipped back to him. "Honey, we came here on our own. We are just working like you are. Oh! Who do we have here? Isn't this your little brother, Exten? I wonder how good his necromancy has gotten now."

Sylvester didn't fail to realize that detail. It appeared the seven-foot-tall man in oversized brown robes was the elder brother of Bishop Lazark.

"Ugh!" Sylvester groaned in pain as the pressure on his body increased suddenly.

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Thud!

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The man named Null walked closer and pushed Sylvester further down by placing his foot on the back. His eyes appeared uncaring and rageful.

"You are worth nothing, little Priest. Your light, your hymns, none of them matter. You have not even started walking the path many have almost crossed. Look at yourself, utterly helpless—frail! This is your reality, and it shall remain the same forever."

Sylvester grunted and asked. "Why did you kill people? What do you want?"

"So you have not recognized us yet? Perhaps you're too lowly to be allowed to. We are the Void Keepers, Little Priest. We ensure the faith remains eternal. We ensure the lord's enemies can't see the light of day. This little town?" Null looked around at the destroyed town and sighed.

"They sinned against the faith… they harbored the man named Jax years ago… I've learned you know him too? Poor thing, even that information is too high for you. This!" All of a sudden, Null's voice turned rageful, and his eyes turned red. "This town harbored Julius Aurelius Alexander! The head of Anti-Light! That in itself condemned them to death… but they lived a few more years, regrettably."

Sylvester growled back. "Jax was the one who helped the town when the monastery's men escaped… leaving the doors open for Desert cannibals!"

"And?" Null asked in an uncaring tone. "Heathens are heathens! They deserve to die, and the same shall be the fate of all who help him. He is the greatest enemy of the faith, and whoever assists him—their death won't be delayed."

Sylvester fell silent as he knew there was nothing he could do to stop them. Today, he hated himself because of how powerless he felt. He never tried to walk the path to attain strength at all cost, for he wished for peace, but here he was, reminded that even if he pursued peace, someone would always be ready to destroy it.

And—because of this, even Shane died. Because he was weak, he lay in the dirt while the enemies mocked him.

"Did the church authorize these actions?" Sylvester questioned in disappointment.

"Hehe!" The woman named Spine giggled. "We are Void Keepers, dear. We don't need permission by law. Null, let's kill all of them! Nobody will know. I'm sure he will appreciate it. Don't you agree, Double O?"

Sylvester struggled to move, even in the slightest. "I am a God's Favoured… to kill me—us… is a crime!"

The third man, Double O, sneered. "Pathetic…"

Null scoffed with a little chuckle. "Do you seriously dream of becoming the Pope? Laughable at best… you are no threat to anyone, little Priest. And that? The so-called Sword of the Lord? Both of you are pathetically weak—You shall remain so no matter how much strength you seek."

Bam!

Suddenly the man knelt and held Sylvester's face up by clutching his hair. "You… Do you hear me? Your songs are mere entertainment. For the real world, it's nothing. You can't even stand up to my Soul magic… and dream of sitting at the top?"

Sylvester tried pushing the exchange for as long as possible to gather some energy. He had to do something as he felt the scent of death increasing by the second. Still, the words the man said struck him like an arrow.

Bam!

Null let Sylvester's head go and fall to the ground. "Only the brightest of light reaches the holy throne, young bard—your golden halo is too small—for the great silver outshines all."

He moved back and ordered the woman. "Spine, let the Bard and the Sword go. Kill the rest of them…"

The woman pouted, skipped to Sir Dolorem, and swiftly grabbed him by his throat. "Hehe, this one's a pretty man—sad—he'll die."

Sylvester breathed heavily as he tried his best to move and attack. But the pressure on his body fought him and stopped him. 'Fuck! This is bad… I have to do something!'

He had no option but to use it one more time, as the only way to stop them was by scaring them. He knew not if he could, but that was the only way, for light was one power that could ignore everything else in the world. So he started to force himself and pushed his palm to the front, aimed at the group of four in the distance.

Then, he sang under his breath as he could not speak aloud.

♫There is death, and destruction,

Of innocents—for no real reason.

Their only crime was of being weak,

Is it too much? The justice I seek?

In breath, I sing, just this one last time.

Let your light come out of this hymn.♫

Abruptly a bright golden light appeared on his palm and sent out a beam of liquid light, burning brighter than anything imaginable—ready to destroy everything in its path.

Boom!

It was so fast and bright that it gave no time for anyone to move. But, they were still strong and sharp and jumped aside, being able to do so since the beam of light was not as big and wide anymore.

This time, it didn't require Sylvester to stop as the light abruptly vanished on its own.

Exhausted, he tried hard not to let his eyes shut.

"Ugh! H-He killed Double O!" The woman screamed madly.

His beam of light had brushed past one of them and easily melted away half of the body, as now only the legs remained still standing there.

Sylvester's face fell hard in the mud this time as he lost all strength, but still, he soon looked up with a wide grin that appeared nothing but grim. His eyes, nose, and ears started to bleed, making him seem like a demon.

"Go ahead!" Sylvester spoke calmly. "Kill them! But remember my name, for I will come after you. Not today, not tomorrow… but one day I will… and ensure there remains nothing you love."

Sylvester was making a bluff by threatening them since they could not kill him, lest they invite the wrath of the Pope. "Ten, twenty, or thirty years—I will stand on your corpse. So go ahead… kill them!"

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