Chapter 118: The Lambs
Sunlight flooded back into the town square of Orlando.
In the morning light, Skele-Sloth's silhouette appeared almost translucent. He spared a brief, indifferent glance at the headless corpse of Sir Ross and the eight desiccated husks of the other Templars. He gave no special reaction. To him, it was no different than stepping on a few annoying bugs that had wandered into his path.
Then, he let out a massive, bone-rattling yawn, his voice thick with post-exertion lethargy.
Scarlett watched the scene, her mind still struggling to process the absolute, all-consuming darkness that had swallowed the world just moments ago. She opened her mouth to say something—perhaps a "thank you" or a "you're terrifyingly strong."
But Sloth gave her no opening. His frame dipped low, sinking directly into his own shadow, and vanished. He left behind a square filled with wreckage and a group of people staring at nothing.
"He... he just left?" Kula asked, pointing at the spot where the shadow had dissolved. "He didn't even ask us for a snack as a thank-you gift."
Scarlett massaged her temples, feeling a headache brewing. He's strong enough, sure, but that customer service attitude is... pathetic. No parting words, no professional courtesy—he took the money, did the job, and ghosted. The efficiency was almost insulting.
Father Anchi struggled to a sitting position. The potion Scarlett had forced down his throat was taking hold; the agonizing pressure in his chest was receding into a dull ache. He looked at the carnage in the square, then at the spot where the Shadow Demon had vanished, falling into a state of stunned silence.
Sister Cecilia walked over, checking Anchi's injuries before glancing at the succubus squad. Finally, her gaze settled on Danica, whom she had just rescued from the pyre.
A graveyard silence sat over the plaza. The townsfolk had long since fled to their homes; now, only this mismatched group remained.
Anchi coughed twice, spitting a glob of blood-streaked phlegm onto the stone. He patted the dust from his dirtied shirt and stood up, his balance somewhat precarious. Cecilia immediately reached out to steady him.
Anchi brushed her hand away, walking step by heavy step toward the shattered remains of the wooden stake. He stared at the splintered timber for a long time. Then, he turned to Cecilia, his face wearing an unprecedented, hollow calm.
"Cecilia. It's time to go."
Cecilia blinked, understanding his meaning instantly. "Where to?"
"I don't know." Anchi gave a slow shake of his head, his gaze sweeping over the destroyed square and the distant, sunlit spire of the chapel. "But we can't stay in the Theocracy. Not after this."
Openly defying an Inquisitor of the Holy Capital and slaughtering a squad of Templars... this transcended simple heresy. They were now high-value fugitives. There was no sanctuary left for them in the Holy Empire of Gusteko.
"And Danica?" Cecilia asked, looking toward the girl.
Danica was currently the center of a succubus huddle. Kula was pinching Danica's arm, muttering about how she'd "wasted away" and needed "proper fattening up." Mona had rested her head against Danica's back, mumbling about how the illusion work had exhausted her and that she needed a nap. Eris and Chloe were peppering her with questions about her life, right down to how many meals she ate a day.
Danica looked overwhelmed by the sudden influx of kin, but the deep-seated anxiety she had carried for months seemed to be evaporating.
Anchi watched the scene, the corner of his mouth twitching into a wry, bitter smile. "She's going home."
"Yeah," Cecilia agreed, her expression softening into one of relief. "The wayward lamb found her flock. I suppose that means us 'unfit shepherds' should start our own wandering."
Their conversation was quiet, but Danica caught the words. She whipped her head around, seeing Anchi and Cecilia standing side-by-side. The morning sun stretched their shadows long across the stone; they looked terribly alone.
Danica felt a sharp pang in her chest. She shoved past her sisters and ran toward them.
"Father Anchi! Sister Cecilia!"
Kula shouted from behind, "Danica! Where are you going? We haven't even decided what our first meal back is going to be!"
Anchi and Cecilia stopped and turned. Danica reached them but skidded to a halt. She lowered her head, staring at her toes, her hands frantically wringing the hem of her prisoner's shift. A thousand words of gratitude, apology, and reluctance were jammed in her throat.
Cecilia let out a sigh, stepped forward, and ruffled Danica's hair.
"Go on, you little dummy," Cecilia said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "I know you were always smiling while you were here, but I could see what was hiding beneath it. Living without your own kind, fearing for your life every single second... it must have been exhausting."
Danica's shoulders began to quiver. She buried her face deeper.
Anchi walked over, his movements somewhat rough as he tilted Danica's chin up, forcing her to look at him. "What are you looking at the dirt for?"
His tone had returned to its usual, annoying cadence. "Did you forget that mindless bravery you showed when we first met?"
Anchi stared into her eyes, each word measured and heavy. "Sister Danica, I want you to remember something: not everyone can be a chosen believer of the Spirits, but that doesn't stop them from doing what is right."
Anchi poked his own chest with a finger. "Pity or piety... it's not about the robes you wear. It's about what's in here."
Danica's tears finally overflowed, tracking through the grime on her cheeks.
Just then, a tentative, speculative voice drifted from the side.
"Actually... you two might want to consider coming back to Iron Fortress with us."
Anchi and Cecilia both looked toward the source. Scarlett was scratching her head, looking a bit awkward.
"I heard the Iron Fortress Medical Center is looking to recruit clergy," Scarlett said. "If you don't have anywhere specific in mind, why not come see the capital? The facilities are... impressive."
Anchi and Cecilia stared at her, dumbfounded. An Undead Empire recruiting priests and nuns to be doctors? It sounded even more absurd than a succubus working in a chapel.
Anchi's face was a mask of skepticism. "Are you sure you aren't just looking to strap us to an operating table and study how Holy Light works from the inside out?"
"Of course not!" Scarlett protested. "That Personage is merciful and generous! Our Empire's social benefits are the highest on the continent!"
Anchi and Cecilia went silent. They had heard the rumors—both the horrific and the miraculous. But the reality was that they were out of options. Moving to an empire of the dead and monsters sounded like madness, but staying meant a one-way trip to the stake.
Anchi looked at Cecilia. Cecilia looked back. She shrugged. "Whatever. As long as there's a roof and a bed, I'm in."
Anchi looked at Danica. She was watching them with the hopeful, pleading eyes of an abandoned puppy.
Anchi let out a long, resigned breath. "Fine."
Before leaving, Anchi insisted on returning to the chapel one last time. Scarlett and the others, not trusting him to go alone, followed in a noisy, multicolored procession.
The chapel was empty, save for the whistling wind through the eaves. Anchi moved with practiced ease to the donation box. He fished out his keys and popped the sturdy lock. He dumped the meager collection of silver and copper coins into his pockets, the clinking sound filling the silent hall.
Then, he reached into a hidden compartment in the box and withdrew a bottle of wine with a faded, dusty label.
"And that is?" Cecilia asked, eyeing the bottle.
"A sacred tribute for the Great Spirit," Anchi replied without batting an eye as he tucked the wine into his robes. "I'm worried the next Father sent from the Capital won't be pious enough and might embezzle it. I've decided to keep it safe for the Spirits personally."
Cecilia rolled her eyes, too tired to call him out.
With the "tributes" secured, they officially began their journey. The party of eight marched grandly out of Orlando. Six succubi, a renegade priest, and a violent nun. It was a sight so bizarre that the few townspeople brave enough to peek out their windows could only stare in shock.
As they reached the edge of town, Danica looked back. Beneath the Great Oak at the entrance, a small figure was hiding behind the trunk, waving his arm with frantic energy.
It was Jamie.
Danica smiled and raised her hand, waving back. Then, she turned her head and hurried to catch up with the bickering group ahead.
"Scarlett! I'm starving! When are we eating?!"
"Shut up, Kula! You just finished a loaf of bread! Do you consume energy just by moving your jaw?!"
"But walking takes Mana! And Mana needs calories! My stomach is staging a coup!"
"Mona! Don't you dare fall asleep while walking! If you pass out, we're dragging you like a sack of grain!"
"Father Anchi, can I have a sip of that wine? It looks expensive."
"Absolutely not! This is a divine offering! Mortals are forbidden from touching it!"
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