The crowded streets were a cacophony of chaos—gunshots, the clashing of steel, roars of slaughter, and agonized screams echoed through the air. One moment, the thoroughfares were calm; the next, they had transformed into a living purgatory.
Initially, the unrest was confined to a few blocks. However, as time ticked by, the situation spiraled out of control until more than half of Valanfort was engulfed in madness. Countless devotees of the "Goddess of the Night" and priests of the Church converged to swarm Dimitri's crew. Every step the pirates took required them to strike down or kill dozens of assailants.
Worse yet, even the Valanfort City Defense Force had joined the fray.
"Fire the cannons! Blow these blasphemers to hell!" a Defense Force officer roared fanatically, leading his men to reposition the heavy artillery from the city walls.
Boom! Rumble!
With a thunderous blast, searing black cannonballs tore through the air, exploding directly into the dense crowds. Flames and thick acrid smoke billowed upward. Several members of the Chris Pirates were caught in the blast and thrown to the ground.
Though these pirates were elites with Doriki exceeding a hundred, they were still flesh and blood against the raw power of artillery. Fortunately, they were only wounded; no fatalities had occurred yet.
"Damn it! What the hell is going on?" Vito barked, pacing irritably as sparks jumped off his skin.
"It feels like the entire city is trying to kill us!" Dimitri shouted, scattering another handful of crushed stone. He activated his ability, and the expanding projectiles swept across the street, knocking over a dozen fanatics at once.
Inside Valanfort: The Inner Keep.
"What happened? Why does it feel like the whole city has revolted?" The elderly Lord of the Fort, his hair stark white, slammed his fist onto the desk in a blind rage, his roar echoed through half the Inner Keep.
Below him, several middle-aged nobles were drenched in cold sweat, not daring to lift their heads to face the old man's fury.
"Answer me!" the Lord bellowed again.
"Gulp... We... we aren't entirely sure, milord!"
"The rioters are screaming about 'killing the blasphemers.' It's almost certainly linked to the Church of the Night!"
"And... it seems elements of the City Defense Force have defected to their side!"
The nobles stammered out bits of uncertain information. The crisis had struck without warning, leaving them no time to react.
Amidst the religious fervor, the chaos had invited scavengers—thugs, outlaws, and unaffiliated pirates were taking advantage of the turmoil to loot homes. Even the estates of the wealthy and noble were being targeted. These nobles only managed to reach the Inner Keep thanks to their powerful personal bodyguards; otherwise, they would have been lynched in the streets.
The Lord's expression grew colder with every word. He knew that reinforcements from the Chris Pirates were supposed to arrive today. If their landing was obstructed and the support for the front lines was delayed, the consequences would be catastrophic, and he would be the one held responsible.
"Curse that Church of the Night...!" the Lord hissed.
The only reason the Church had flourished in Valanfort was that he had turned a blind eye to them. After all, the Church's "donations" were always very generous. He never imagined they would bite the hand that fed them like this.
Due to the ongoing rebellion elsewhere, the 30,000 elite troops originally stationed outside Valanfort had already been moved inside the walls to guard the three gates, the harbor, and the Inner Keep. Had the main force been outside, he could have ordered a focused suppression. Now, his forces were scattered, and the city was in such total disarray that the army couldn't even regroup. It was a miracle if they could hold the gates, let alone stop a riot.
The Lord realized the army was a lost cause for now. The only option left was to put Valanfort under total lockdown—no one in, no one out.
…
The Church Cathedral.
Mondos Bank, having just escaped Dimitri's line of sight and returned to the cathedral, was utterly bewildered.
What the hell is this? How did the whole city go into lockdown mode so fast? Why are the followers acting like they've lost their minds?
"Bank, what happened out there?" Bane stood at the cathedral entrance, watching the fanatical priests and followers. He grabbed Bank's arm, his voice urgent.
His original plan was to keep a low profile. Given the current state of affairs, "low profile" was officially out the window.
"I don't know!" Bank replied, looking genuinely confused. "I was about to leave, but I ran into the Chris Pirates at the harbor. I've fought their officers before, so they knew me instantly. I ran, and then... this happened!"
"You didn't incite this?" Bane asked, piercingly.
"When would I have had the time?" Bank snapped. "They were right on my heels! Even if I wanted to start a riot, I couldn't have pulled it off that fast!"
At that moment, Razalo returned from scouting the area. Seeing Bane and Bank together, he didn't waste time with petty grievances. "Archbishop, what are our orders?"
"The Chris Pirates... There's no other way." Bane pondered for a moment, then gritted his teeth. "Since we've been dragged into the light, we have to go all in! We strike now!"
"You mean..." Bank looked at Bane gravely.
"Do you have a better idea?" Bane shot back.
Bank knew the fuse had been lit because of him. Between his guilt and the lack of alternatives, he didn't argue.
"Mobilize the four hundred Paladins in the fort," Bane commanded coldly. "Have every priest, deacon, and bishop incite the followers to full-scale war. Activate our sleepers in the army and the Inner Keep. We are taking Valanfort today!"
"What about the Chris Pirates?" Bank asked, looking toward the harbor.
"You and Razalo take two hundred Paladins to intercept them," Bane said sternly. "Use the commoners as shields. Use their faith. Just drive the Chris Pirates back into the sea!"
Knowing the situation was dire, Razalo and Bank nodded and immediately departed.
Once they were out of earshot, Bane spat on the ground and cursed under his breath. "Useless pieces of trash. They're better at failing than succeeding."
…
High atop a clock tower near the harbor, three figures stood watching the unfolding carnage. They wore strange white coats and bizarre, ornate masks.
"It's a success," a man wearing a red-and-yellow Clown Mask said in a low, gravelly voice. "Now we just sit back and enjoy the show."
"That Myles Dimitri is a fool. 'Womanly compassion'—he's actually afraid to kill the civilians," a towering man in a Kabuki Mask mocked, watching Dimitri struggle to avoid lethal force below.
A third man, wearing a Tulip Mask, glanced at them with cold, indifferent eyes but said nothing.
"The Bivins Kingdom, the Revolutionary Army, the Church of the Night, and the Chris Pirates... This play is going to be magnificent. Heh-heh-heh..." The man in the Clown Mask chuckled darkly.