Chapter 147: Lance Commits a Sin

In a dimly lit bedroom on the second floor of the ancient castle, antiquity and luxury blended seamlessly, creating an atmosphere of quiet solemnity. The lights in the room remained unlit. The walls were adorned with murals depicting scenes from the Honing Empire, while the deep, wood-grained walls and ceilings exuded a rich sense of history.

To one side, the curtains beside a massive glass window stood half-open. Outside, the castle courtyard and the distant mountain forests remained shrouded in the darkness of night. Only a faint moonlight filtered through the glass, casting a soft glow into the corners of the room.

Dominating the center was a spacious four-poster bed. Its carved solid-wood frame and the pure white linens atop the plush mattress looked both magnificent and inviting. Two large down pillows rested quietly at the head of the bed, beckoning prospective occupants into a sweet slumber.

The room not only evoked the castle's history and legends, but also offered a comfortable, private sanctuary where a guest might enjoy a tranquil night and unwind.

And yet... the atmosphere told a different story.

Beside the four-poster bed, heavy iron chains firmly bound a high-backed chair made of dark, lacquered oak. A petite young woman sat unconscious within it, her long hair spilling over her shoulders. Her skin was as pale as parchment, and her slender fingers hung limply at her sides.

She was lashed tightly to the chair by multiple chains, and cold, unyielding shackles were coiled around her ankles, rendering escape impossible. She was the young priestess among the three women from the Krati Empire, and, aside from the Saintess of Destruction, was the other Traitor in their midst.

In her unconscious state, she had reverted to the fragile, pitiful appearance she used for her daily facade. It was hard to imagine that she was actually a vicious member of the Church of Resurrection.

The art of deception was etched into her very bones, so she was subjected to various physical and magical restraints. Although she retained the ability to invoke a single shot of vampire power, her innate offensive capabilities were so weak that she posed little threat.

There was no telling how long this silence had endured. In the dim bedroom, the creak of a wooden door pierced the silence, allowing the chill of the late-autumn mountain night to rush in.

The door opened slowly, revealing the tall figure of a man. His upright posture cast a long shadow in the faint moonlight. He carried an iron bucket brimming with water as he walked slowly into the room. Each step was heavy and distinct, accompanied by the faint clanking of his armor.

He approached the unconscious young woman. Without a moment's hesitation, he upended the bucket, drenching her instantly in cold water.

"Ah!"

Water splashed everywhere as the priestess of the Church of Resurrection shuddered violently. Amidst her coughing fit, her blue eyes darted about in terror. She struggled instinctively, but the heavy iron chains bound her tight, rendering her completely immobile.

"You...!"

The priestess was about to lash out, but the words died in her throat the moment she clearly saw the paladin. He stood there, watching her reaction with a cold, cruel gaze that was devoid of any pity or hesitation. He had become a completely different person, which sent a sudden, intense chill through her. ℯℯ𝑙.

This morning and this afternoon... the paladin hadn't been like this...

In the dim room, bound to the chair, she felt as though she had become the focal point of every terror imaginable. The ornate furniture and decorations, once magnificent, now looked oppressive, instilling in her a profound sense of isolation.

A few seconds later, the main door was pushed open again. The heavy wood creaked and groaned. The executioner entered wearing thick gloves made of a cotton-linen blend, while the priest clutched an old, rag-like mop.

Their eyes all held a terrifying coldness. Furthermore, their practiced movements and calm expressions suggested they were about to perform nothing more than a routine cleanup of refuse. The bizarre scene unfolding before her eyes caused the atmosphere to grow suddenly more tense and grim.

"What are you doing?" The priestess's legs trembled weakly. Something felt terribly wrong about these three men.

Yet, the paladin ignored her hysterical question entirely, placing an iron bucket beside her chair. The executioner didn't even glance at her. He unrolled a bundle of medical instruments wrapped in leather. These tools had actually been found in the ancient castle.

The executioner picked up a lancet, watching the faint gleam of light reflecting off its tip as he said with chilling indifference, "You might lose a lot of blood in a moment, but that bucket should hold it all."

The priestess's eyes quivered violently as she instinctively glanced down at the iron bucket at her feet. Her face had gone paper-white, and beads of sweat broke out across her forehead. The mere glimpse of that seemingly bottomless bucket made her too terrified to let her thoughts wander any further.

Compared to how they had appeared during the day, these three were like completely different people. Far from the gentle, steadfast believers of the Church of the Goddess of Fate, they looked more like evil entities masquerading as clergy!

Her lips trembling uncontrollably, the priestess stammered, "A-are you... are you really from the Church of the Goddess of Fate?"

All three men turned to look at her, wearing terrifying smiles as they crowed in unison, "Praise the Goddess!"

"Y-you... Aaaahhh—!!!"

***

In Bedroom 201, located on the other side of the second-floor hallway, a scream was heard almost immediately from across the hall. Accompanied by a light, brisk gait, the Poet of Boundless Love came trotting over with arms spread wide.

"Done!" The Poet wore a look of triumph as she lightly and swiftly patted Lance on the shoulder, seeking credit for a job well done.

Lance praised her with a smile, "From now on, the task of reforming problem students is yours, Director Lana of the Student Affairs Office."[1]

He felt his school's core team was becoming increasingly complete. Once everything was ready, he would surely make Purgatory Corridor Academy rise again. When that time came, he would resume the role of headmaster in the real world.

The Poet planted her hands on her hips and nodded. "Hmph!"

Hyperion stared at the summon in disbelief. "Poet, just where did you learn to do that?"

Sometimes the summon seemed like a decent sort, yet at other times, she appeared truly wicked. Just hearing the heart-wrenching, despair-filled screams of the priestess next door made Hyperion want to cover her ears, bury her head, and pretend she knew nothing.

It felt as though her accumulated merit was being drained away by the second! After this Shadow Realm adventure ended, she certainly wouldn't dare visit the temple to worship the Goddess again.

The Poet looked at Hyperion, squinting her left eye in utter disdain as she sternly criticized her, "Isn't such a simple thing something one should know instinctively? Hyperion, you really are a disgrace to the demon race!"

Hyperion was momentarily speechless. Although the summon was criticizing her, this was the first time another demon had called her a disgrace to the demon race. Strangely enough, she felt a secret thrill of delight. She hurriedly offered a silent prayer of repentance to the Goddess. After all, she ought to be feeling a heavy heart at a moment like this!

Hyperion also found something curious. How did the Poet possess such high intelligence and the capacity for independent action? She was indistinguishable from any other living being.

Had people not seen Lance summon the Poet using an enchanted card, no one would have realized that she was actually a summoned entity. Not even the vampire envoy who had visited Purgatory Corridor Academy from the previous Shadow Realm challenge had noticed this.

"Alright, Secretary Hyperion, it's time for us to have a proper chat with this noble lady from the Krati Empire." Lance's voice from nearby snapped Hyperion to attention, and she quickly straightened up in her chair.

Sitting across from them was the young noble mage from the Krati Empire. Of the three-woman team, the female knight known as the Saintess of Destruction was already dead, and the other member, a priestess and follower of the Church of Resurrection, was currently being tortured in the next room. That left only this mage, the sole member of the group who was not a cultist, facing Lance and Hyperion.

She appeared utterly dejected. She leaned back in her chair with her head tilted slightly, letting strands of brown hair hang loose beside her cheeks. Her eyes were devoid of all light. She showed no inclination to speak, nor did she offer any resistance.

After all, in five hours, it would all be over. Everyone would die at the hands of the vampires. Just like her Krati Empire, there was no saving them.

1. This is different from the Student Management Council that our three thugs are from. This office currently doesn’t exist... ☜