...Night.
Dark clouds concealed the moon, shrouding the earth in blackness.
The surroundings of the Baylor Great Sept were so silent it was suffocating, as if the very air was about to solidify. Occasionally, the cry of one or two night birds broke the dead stillness.
Under the bright candlelight, the High Sparrow, clad in coarse grey cloth, and Jacquelyn, draped in a red robe, stood at the entrance awaiting the arrival of the main guest.
Inside the Sept, solemn and majestic harmonies of chanting constantly drifted out.
"What time is it now, Jacquelyn?"
After an unknown amount of time, the perpetually expressionless High Sparrow finally grew impatient. He turned his head and inquired.
"It should be almost time, Your Grace, the High Septon."
Jacquelyn replied respectfully. Compared to the High Sparrow, whose eyes showed slight anxiety, he appeared incredibly calm, as if certain that Arthas would arrive precisely on time.
As expected, accompanied by a loud bell toll, a tall figure appeared on the steps and slowly ascended.
The dark clouds cooperatively parted slightly, allowing a bright ray of moonlight to spill onto Arthas, highlighting his incomparably dazzling golden hair, like a protagonist making an entrance in a play.
"Lord Arthas, it is wonderful that you could arrive punctually."
The High Sparrow, still expressionless, stepped forward. He confirmed that Arthas was not followed by anyone and carried nothing in his hands, not even a weapon. A hint of a triumphant smile flashed in his eyes, though he quickly concealed it.
He mused to himself that this overconfident, young commander had come to the feast unarmed and alone. It seemed he was truly blessed by the Seven Gods.
"My apologies for keeping you waiting, Your Grace, the High Septon."
The shift in the High Sparrow's expression did not escape Arthas's eyes, but he merely exchanged pleasantries with him without showing any reaction:
"This is such a solemn occasion for a ritual. I was simply agonizing over what attire to wear at home; I hope I haven't caused a delay."
"Not at all, Lord Arthas."
Seeing that he was completely unguarded, the High Sparrow's mouth twitched slightly, seemingly unable to suppress a laugh.
He slightly bowed, holding his right hand out in a gesture, pointing toward the interior of the Great Sept:
"You have arrived just in time; we are about to begin."
Seeing this, Arthas said no more, stepping forward confidently and boldly into the Sept. The other two followed closely behind him.
As soon as one foot stepped inside the Sept, nearly a hundred men with faces painted with oil colors and holding sharp blades lined both sides of the passage.
They all knelt on one knee, pressing their foreheads against their sword hilts, chanting the Song of the Seven Gods toward the Father Above.
"The Father Above is resolute and strong,
Judging falsehoods, upholding justice,
Determining longevity and status,
Kindly loving the little children."
Amidst the solemn chanting, Arthas slowly walked step by step through the passage. By the time they finished their last line, he had arrived directly beneath the statue of the Father Above.
"Arsath Lannister!"
When he finally came to a complete stop, an angry roar, as if from righteousness itself, came from behind the High Sparrow. Arthas turned around only to find that the barefoot man had not followed him but was standing far away by the entrance.
The High Sparrow held both hands aloft, pursing his lips and closing his eyes as if listening to the teachings of the Seven Gods. Under the lamplight, he even appeared somewhat sacred.
"The Father Above knows all; your sins have already been seen by Him, and your wickedness cannot escape judgment!"
As soon as the words fell, nearly a hundred Sons of the Warrior stood up from the ground, raising the sharp blades in their hands to point entirely at the solitary figure at the foot of the Father Above statue.
"As far as I know, Your Grace, the High Septon."
Facing the pointing blades of a hundred men, Arthas appeared incredibly calm. He did not turn around, merely staring intently at the statue of the Father Above. His soft whisper could be precisely heard by everyone:
"The Seven Gods are merciful; they will forgive all sins in the mortal world without hesitation."
These words made the High Sparrow think that he was finally afraid and wished to beg for his mercy.
He involuntarily took two steps forward, but then, fearing Arthas's terrifying combat prowess, quickly retreated:
"That is right, the Seven Gods are merciful."
"All sins will eventually be forgiven, but first, punishment must be accepted!"
A hint of triumph flashed in his eyes. The High Sparrow could already envision the glorious scene of himself sitting atop the pinnacle of power, and he proclaimed loudly:
"Kneel, Arsath Lannister!"
"Confess your sins before the Father Above, and I shall forgive you on behalf of the Seven Gods!"
"Of course, that will be after you have received the punishment you deserve!"
"Heh heh..."
Seeing that his opponent had finally revealed his true intentions, Arthas slowly turned around, letting out a faint, light smile.
He took a deep breath, as if inhaling the most wonderful scent in the world:
"Do you know, High Sparrow."
Beneath the dome of glass, gold, and crystal, Arthas stepped back two paces, extended his right hand, and gently touched the altar, revealing an incomparably radiant smile.
As his right hand extended, a sword of deep azure was slowly drawn out. Where the blade met the hilt, a bizarre goat skull gradually materialized, its hollow eye sockets flickering with the same deep blue light.
As the sword continuously trembled, Arthas also felt frostmourne's craving for the delicious souls of those nearby.
Looking at the High Sparrow, whose eyes were filled with disbelief, he held his sword level, pointing it at the other party. An ancient and majestic whisper echoed throughout the Great Sept:
"Your delicious Soul trembles!"
"H-Heresy, he is a heretic!"
The High Sparrow, who always maintained a calm expression, finally panicked. He pointed a finger at Arthas, whose eyes were glowing blue, his voice as shrill as a frightened little girl:
"Quick! Kill him quickly, don't let the heretic defile the halls of the Seven Gods!"
Following the High Sparrow's command, over ten fanatical Sons of the Warrior shouted "The Seven Gods above!" and charged at Arthas with their blades raised.
But the pitiful combat prowess of these mere mortals was equivalent to moths flying into a flame before the lich king.
The sound of blades piercing flesh continuously echoed in the hall. In the blink of an eye, Arthas had pulled frostmourne from the chest of the last person who swung a sword at him.
Bright red blood stained the sacred cathedral, as if transforming this place into the seven layers of Hell, foul and evil.
"Heh heh~~ Heh heh~~"
Carrying frostmourne, which trembled with excitement, Arthas slowly walked into the main hall. His eyes, emitting a faint blue glow, swept over the remaining people holding weapons:
"The song you just sang, I did not like it very much."
The previously gentle youthful voice had turned into the sound of gods and demons, heavily striking everyone's Soul.
Arthas paused, as if contemplating something.
Suddenly, he forcefully thrust frostmourne into the ground with both hands. The people he had just killed surprisingly began to slowly crawl up from the ground, staggering!
Accompanied by rising roars, the undead legion had arrived!
Witnessing this incredibly bizarre scene, the fanatical gaze of the Sons of the Warrior gradually shifted to fear. They scrambled to scatter in all directions, desperately trying to flee this place.
But no one knew when all the doors had already been tightly shut, and no matter how they cried out, there was no response.
"Damn Jacquelyn!"
The High Sparrow, trapped inside, frantically pounded on the door while cursing loudly.
As soon as the sudden change occurred, he noticed Jacquelyn's figure had vanished. At this moment, he knew with certainty that this fellow had long ago betrayed the Seven Gods!
"I said, I did not like the song you sang just now."
Leaning on frostmourne, Arthas slowly sat down on the steps, gleefully watching the panic-stricken expressions of the crowd. Souls trapped in fear were always the best seasoning for the Lich King's menu.
"Oh, right!"
He lightly patted the steps beside him, suddenly seeming to recall something:
"How about you all sing 'the rains of castamere', how about it?"
"Let me see who sings well, and I will spare their life!"
The Lich King's playful whisper precisely reached everyone's ears. Playing with people's minds was his specialty. Having no path of escape, the people could only hurriedly turn around, all kneeling before Arthas, begging for his forgiveness.
And some who had heard this famous Lannister song began to chant hurriedly with tearful voices:
"And how did you dare? Lord Lannister says so..."
"That you should bow the knee? These lions all have claws, and none so sharp as yours..."
"And so the Red Lion fought the Golden Lion, all teeth and fire..."
"But now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear..."
Accompanying the chanting, the undead resurrected by the Lich King lunged at the crowd like vicious beasts. Some people who couldn't sing the song were directly torn to shreds.
Seeing this situation, people sang even more vigorously. This highest sanctuary of the Seven Gods' faith now seemed to be holding a Lannister Family banquet.
These most devout followers of the Seven Gods had now all turned against their faith, as if they had suddenly all become vassals of the Lannister Family, constantly praising it!
And among them, the one who sang the most enthusiastically was none other than the High Sparrow.
"Tap... tap..."
The sounds of chanting, roaring, and screaming were incessant, yet they could not drown out Arthas's crisp footsteps.
As he walked, he casually swung frostmourne. With every step, he took a head, and the Soul was collected into this evil Divine Artifact.
Until the last person besides the High Sparrow fell, the appetizer was over. frostmourne's craving for the fallen Soul before it reached its peak!
"And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that Lord of the Castamere..."
Looking at Arthas walking towards him, the High Sparrow, knowing death was imminent, dared not stop chanting. Tears slid from the corners of his eyes, and his voice trembled so much:
"But now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear..."
The evil greatsword was slowly raised, its sharp tip like a fierce ghost eager to devour people, displaying its ferocious claws.
"But now the rains weep o'er his hall..."
The faint blue blade pierced through his chest, and the fallen Soul was finally liberated at this moment.
The High Sparrow's eyes gradually dimmed, blood slowly trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he mumbled the last line of the song:
"There's no one there to hear."
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