Chapter 257: Chapter 256: Fearsome Presence

A simple, mischievous smile devoid of hostility or contempt. Iris had donned such a smile countless times, yet this smile, worn by that lady, expressed more than mere playfulness. It unnerved her with the same sensation as when she stood defenceless in the Cathedral of Deliverance, in front of the Saintess of Pure Mind, before the Goddess of Seven Virtues.

She once again came under the gaze of a transcendental power, a power that eclipsed understanding, a power that ceaselessly assimilated all it fancied.

The crimson-hooded lady lightheartedly tilted her head. Her hair rustled like tendrils feeling its surroundings. She pursed her lips and mouthed words indecipherable.

Iris paled. Her heart ached as if something was forcing its way out. Her intuition screamed at her, sending palpable fear throughout her body. No words could describe her terror, which originated not from her rationale but from her instinct, her otherworldly, prophetic temperament.

If she listened to that soundless whisper, if she deciphered those silent syllables, she would perish, her soul extinct.

“Iris?” Antina said. “Are you tired?”

Iris blinked. A group of wanderers walked in between her and the lady. A cool relief washed over her, but she had no time to savour it. Her Faith flickered awake and slithered around her heart. Her human disguise trembled as her Shadow Heart Core stirred.

The group of wanderers left the junction. The lady vanished. Only the visage of her mischievous smile lingered.

That oppressive feeling dispersed, and the panic wore off. Her power receded inside her, returning her to serenity. She got played, tricked by the power that be.

“Antina, did you see . . . her?”

Antina had noticed Iris’s subtle change, but she couldn’t find the reasons behind her vigilance. The Iris she knew never faltered, never panicked, and never revealed her sentiments. What could’ve frightened her so much that she lost her cool?

“Whom, Mistress?”

“A lady in a blood-red cloak, standing in the middle of the street, staring at . . . me.”

Antina closed her eyes. Her dark purple hair quivered as her Corruption Power flowed outwards. Under her mystical perception, no presence could elude her.

“Even with Mother’s power, I fail to find the lady of your description.”

“It must’ve been the curse.” Iris lifted her hand, where the Mark of Love resided. “The encounter drains me. I just want to rest now.”

“Should I call a carriage?”

“Please.” Iris no longer insisted on walking home; she feared seeing what she shouldn’t. That encounter wasn’t illusory. Nupian couldn’t have conjured imagery of a transcendent.

Inside a luxurious carriage, which Antina carefully selected to suit her mistress’s taste, Iris sat opposite her maid and sealed the compartment in strings of intricate spells, layers upon layers stacking atop each other. Her action intrigued Antina, but Antina knew better than to ask.

“You can sleep on my lap. My blessing will ensure good dreams.”

“Dreams are no good. They remind me of too much.” Iris leaned on the cushions, her eyes dimming. “I’d like an empty rest, a dreamless sleep where nothing frets me.”

“Please sleep well.”

Iris refused to sleep on Antina’s lap, but she still let Antina sit beside her. Her eyes glided on the swaying curtains, which drifted according to the carriage’s rhythmic motion. Cold tears blurred her vision as invisible fingers of fatigue crutched her body, pulling her into a comfortingly inescapable seat.

The curtain lightly lifted, but no piercing ray entered the compartment; Antina watched her mistress, who futilely struggled to keep her head high and her mind awake. Only absentmindedness persisted in her dull gaze, yet she refused to give in.

Sighing, Antina gently embraced her mistress. A soothing aura enveloped the carriage, and the power of the night imbued quietude into the air. Iris’s eyes widened before diluting, and her consciousness slipped like morning dew from a blade of grass.

Iris deserved this rest, which Antina prayed to be silent and hollow.

She could ward against external influence but could do nothing to address the internal scars. Only Iris may face her internal conflict.

…

The warm, colourless void flowed around and through Iris, who remained unfazed, floating within the boundless expanse where distance and time became pointless. Her brightly lit pupils fixated on nothing and landed nowhere, yet no trace of emotions manifested on her face.

She was dreaming, dreaming an empty nightmare, dreaming a hollow world.

How familiar. She waved her hands to the side. Her spiritual body flickered and dimmed, its radiance dispersed by the draining void.

This space, this lack of space, reminded her of nothing. If time were to exist here, she would’ve spent it here the longest, immeasurably longer than all else.

She opened her mouth, but no words flowed from her lips. She had no lips, for she was merely a soul, a wisp of existence travelling across nothing towards nothing. Only a hint of her home world, an unknowable mark The Lord imprinted on her, persisted through this eternity.

What was she trying to show to herself?

Iris observed the emptiness. Its fractal yet smooth structure defied her comprehension, yet she still observed it. Lost between reality and illusion, her mystical sight transmitted visions impossible. She saw an infinite variation of herself, which manifested and collapsed like dreams forming and scattering.

Each Iris retained differing identities, differing memories, and each led herself down a divergent path. One Iris became a priestess of The Lord and dedicated her life to spreading her gospel. Another Iris became a powerful schemer who controlled the interstellar empire behind the scene.

Yet all Irises inexorably perished in her sleep, leaving the world unremembered. No matter which path she took, she failed to carve out a place for herself.

The world that birthed her had no place for her.

Where should she be? What path should she take?

She walked among the winding labyrinth of choices and found none that resonated with her. She met The Lord, who adored her, and there began her journey into oblivion, an impossible gambit.

Her soul, endlessly sprouting newer iterations of her past, perished and revived with grander intensity. Whenever she withered to the point of disappearance, golden light would flicker at the core of her soul. With a raging determination she rose once more, and the eternity resumed its unstoppable march.

 And so she danced forth, through life and death, against the meaningless void, for a chance to find where she belonged.

 The only Iris to survive the endless void was the Iris who rebelled against her goddess, the Iris who rejected her path. She in her lonesome carried the aspiration of her echoes, who died beneath her cold visage with a knowing smile, a smile that she too would reveal when it was her turn.

As the last speck of her existence approached a Great World, an invisible force seized her fate. She plunged towards the immense world, whose cracked surface forbade her arrival.

All Outsiders must perish!

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A blinding light, whose presence enacted laws unto the void, blasted at Iris. Her infinitesimal soul whitened, her consciousness fading.

Seductive laughter echoed. The golden light blackened, corrupted by a foreign power. An incorporeal palm enveloped Iris and hurled her at the Great World. The unknown light within her soul pushed her through the crack, and she stepped into existence once more.

…

Iris opened her eyes. Antina stared at her, frowning. She didn’t detect any anomaly, nothing that would indicate the power of the curse. Iris enjoyed a peaceful sleep, yet she woke up ahead of time.

“A nightmare?”

Iris stared through Antina’s eyes. Her meditative gaze concealed the churning thoughts within her pupils. Silence coursed about her, blinking with her steady breathing.

“A peaceful dream.” Iris gave a bright smile. “It reminded me of the past.”

“Did it grow fonder?”

“I don’t know.”

Antina squeezed Iris’s hand. “Treasure it, Mistress. We all need memories to look back to.”

“They’re too much, too much for me.” Iris turned to the curtain, which was now unmoving. “If I were to ask, would you make me forget?”

“Memory that resonates, memory that influences, they’re too significant to be obscured.” Antina lowered her head. “The pain would exist nonetheless.”

“How delusional of me.”

Antina spread her arms. “May I hug you?”

“Then . . . don’t let go.”

Iris buried her head in Antina’s embrace, which wrapped her body like a warm blanket protecting her against the cold winds. Antina’s heartbeats echoed in her ears, rising and falling until they liberated her thoughts with a hypnotic peace. It whittled away mountains of questions atop her heart, rivers of anxiety in her mind.

Who was she? Who was Iris? The answer didn’t seem to matter anymore. She might’ve lost herself, but she also gained herself.

The past should stay the past. What she had was the present and the future, with many hands to hold, many hearts to move, and many friends to love.

As Iris submerged herself in this sense of security, a distinctly foul odour pinched her nose. With a frown, she reluctantly separated from Antina and, after adjusting her dress, drew open the curtains.

Pedestrians crowded on the side of the road, their expectant eyes directing at the intersection ahead. Believers of various faiths marched down the street with their heads high and their hands on their chests, reciting the graces of their deities to cleanse the land of the terrible energy.

Since Holy Resurgence Ceremony, the orthodoxy and the imperial family had tightened their security and patrols. They used the uneasiness of the mass to exert their influence and push back the dissidents, including the neutral faction of the Supernatural Beings.

The driver knocked on the wooden slit and opened it after receiving Iris’s permission. Her nervous eyes gained their lustre when they looked up to Iris, whose aura instilled a sense of steadiness into her allies.

“What should we do, Madam?” The driver fiddled with her hair. “What if they come for us?”

“Why should a sick researcher and a cute driver fear the church?”

“If you say so.”

“Have more faith in our Court of Indulgence, my Dear.”

The driver nodded. “I’ll put my faith in you.”

“Then, you may return home.” Iris smiled. “It’s getting late, and my house isn’t too far from here. There’s no need to wait for the street to clear.”

“But the church—”

Iris placed her hand on her heart. “Faith, my Dear.”

The driver sulked but still followed the order. Although she believed in Iris, she was still an inexperienced Monster Girl who had never interacted with the orthodoxy before.

Iris and Antina alighted the carriage and reentered the crowd. Their presence still stood out, but amidst the holy air of the march, they didn’t draw much attention.

“Who are you looking for?” Antina said.

“Should I be looking?”

“You wouldn’t leave the carriage otherwise.” Antina swiped her hand at the march. “The strongest Paladin is only a Master. I can bring to you whomever you desire.”

Iris pointed at an alerted lady not in the march but at the other end of the street. With a hood over her head, she parsed through the crowd while keeping her watchful eyes on the priests and priestesses. She glanced at a few people behind her, who took in her gaze and nodded wearily.

These people, with a faint flower-shaped tattoo on their foreheads, crept from the parade to a rundown, dirty alley that repelled the holy and clean priests.

They passed through slips in the cracks and winding roads of the murmuring backstreets. The hoodlums and the poor, seeing these cultists, scrambled out of their way, fear apparent in their trembling eyes.

After ordinary people scattered, the lady, the leader of the group, flicked her wrist. A scroll fell out of her sleeve and unfurled. It contained an invitation to a meeting with a complex hexagram engraved on it. Another cultist presented her with a small dagger. She cut her finger and let the blood drip on the page.

As the crimson stain merged with the formation, the lady closed her eyes and laughed, but her laughter quietened; an elusive yet lofty presence caged her. She couldn’t move or scream or channel her power. Her followers noticed nothing.

Iris covered the lady’s eyes and whispered in her ears. Her head dropped before jerking back up. Blurry memory of a new member of the group flooded her consciousness.

Once the confirmation ritual finished, the leader resumed her pace, heading for the meeting location. Iris carefreely followed.

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