Chapter 2123 - 565: The Funeral Bell Rings at the Church of Roland City

Roland City, Saint Roland Cathedral.

The sacred hall once symbolizing the purity and devotion of the Ryan Kingdom now resembled a graveyard haunted by ghosts.

Hoarse roars replaced the choir's hymns, casting a layer of spine-chilling dread over the holy stained glass.

"Marinus! Where did you go? I command you, get out here immediately!"

The stumbling old man weaved through the pews.

He reached the altar, gripping the marble railing tightly with hands, his aged skin concealing blood vessels on the verge of bursting.

Marinus did not appear.

Only his own echo responded to Theoden.

The "Hand of the Late King," usually a shadow by his side, seemed to have vanished from the mortal world, with no news for a long time.

Theoden turned abruptly, scanning the grand hall behind him, holding onto a last shred of hope to recover his lost trump card from the shadows of the marble columns.

But reality proved it all futile.

He had lost not only his trump card but also the lazy confidence behind his adept gaze, and even... his youth itself.

Deprived of the nourishment of "Holy Water," the aged yet robust king seemed to be reduced to mere age. His flesh decayed rapidly in madness, his steps no longer steady, all because Marinus stopped making offerings... at least that's what he believed.

A chilling cold penetrated Theoden, making him shiver involuntarily. He gradually felt a breath named death climbing up from his ankles, transforming into a chilling fear under his skin and hair.

"I refuse to believe... how could you fail? You must be hiding, right? Haha... come out now!"

Theoden muttered nervously, sometimes mumbling, sometimes roaring, his cloudy eyeballs filled with blood veins.

That's Marinus!

The sharpest dagger of the Ryan Kingdom!

In this world, aside from the demigods who tread half into the divine domain, who else could silently kill him?!

Impossible!

Def, initely, not possible!

Even for a demigod, killing a Grandmaster is by no means easy. The power of the domain is formidable, yet not invincible; there are many ways to bridge the gap in strength.

And since he wasn't dead, there was only one explanation.

A thought more terrifying and enraging than the death of Marinus crept into Theoden's mind like a poisonous snake—

Betrayal!

He smelled the scent of betrayal.

"Enough! My patience is exhausted; you betrayed your kingdom! Marinus! I knew dirty blood wasn't trustworthy... you vile creature, a bastard born of a maid! The shame of the Devalu family!"

Theoden raised his head abruptly, screaming into the empty hall, his voice shrill like a vengeful ghost from hell.

He cared no longer.

Marinus' illegitimate status was one of the core secrets of the Devalu family, which was why Theoden trusted him so deeply.

Whether in Hell or the faith system of Saint Sis, "unclean blood" was neither a blessing nor a curse, but rather a handle.

They were often seen as disgrace, excluded from the succession law, naturally opposed by the forces of the Church... only surviving in the shadows relying on paternal favor or the forgiveness of rightful heirs, even if it's not their fault.

Theoden never expected Marinus would betray him, but he realized that the Campbell Duchy was now ruled by demons, and the unconventional Edward might not care about the ancient laws... and thus everything made sense.

"You took my formula, took my Holy Water... you sided with Campbell! Hell-bound creature! You betrayed your family and your king!"

That double-dealing traitor must have used the gift meant for the King to exchange for Edward's protection!

Rampant suspicion burned like a raging fire, consuming the remnants of Theoden's already paranoid mind.

Angrily, he swung his scepter, smashing an angel statue beside the altar to pieces, letting the plaster fragments fly towards the statue of Saint Sis.

The compassionate statue remained indifferent as if mocking the dying mortal or perhaps showing pity.

However, upon seeing that serene expression, Theoden only felt fury, wishing he could throw his scepter at it.

"Your Majesty... please, calm down..."

A trembling voice came from the shadow in the corner, weak like a mouse on the verge of being crushed.

Theoden turned sharply, his bloodshot eyes locking on the source of the sound.

Behind the massive stone pillar, Claude, wearing luxurious cardinal robes, shivered, his aged face full of fear.

He originally intended to support the staggering Majesty or say some jesting words to soothe him, but facing those ferocious eyes, he instinctively recoiled.

Those were not human eyes.

Rather, they belonged to a demon beast driven mad by hunger and fear.

Claude felt his legs trembling, the heavy bishop robe felt like it was filled with lead, pressing down on his breathing.

If he hadn't seen the Majesty about to smash the statue of Saint Sis, he'd rather hide behind that marble pillar until he died of old age.

He knew his own worth better than anyone.

He was not a spokesperson of God, merely a gilded court jester, unable to face His Majesty the King, let alone the daughter of a Baron slapping him in the face.