Chapter 1626: The Broken Mask

Lucia watched as the soldiers led the captives destined for sacrifice to the tallest building in the area; it had once been a temple once revered by many in the city as a sacred place. It was here that Maya Summers had once stood before the crowd, preaching as if salvation itself were flowing from her lips.

Her gaze lingered on the weathered structure. Twin doors towered at the entrance, each adorned with a small angel carved into the wood. Time and neglect had worn the engravings dull, their once-pristine features softened by years of decay.

A scoff escaped her lips. A false holy place for a false goddess.

Then again, Maya Summers and Alinna had always been cut from the same cloth. Timid yet vain, outwardly meek while harboring ambitions far greater than they dared reveal. Both wrapped themselves in carefully crafted masks, pretending to be paragons of virtue while chasing their own desires behind closed doors.

They might have been able to fool the world, but not Lucia.

Unfortunately, Alexander Behrenn had deemed Alinna useful. That alone was the reason the Saintess had been allowed to stand where she did now, bathed in admiration and reverence. Yet beneath the titles and worship, she was no different from any other tool in the organization, a puppet whose strings were merely hidden beneath silk and sanctity. The moment she ceased to be useful, she too would be discarded.

Lucia lowered her gaze to her smooth, unscarred hands. She flexed her fingers slowly, watching the joints bend with effortless ease. At least that useful doll had given her something in return.

Regardless of her opinion of Alinna, she had to admit that if Alinna had not restored her hands, she would have been the first person the organization cast aside.

She knew full well that a cripple held no value within the organization, but she would never be grateful for what Alinna had done. Everything Alinna possessed now had not been earned through her own merit, but through the collective efforts of countless people.

Lucia shifted her gaze toward the sacrificial captives who had entered the building, her eyes cold and indifferent, as though she were looking at something less than human.

From afar, Zhao Li Xin watched in silence. Despite his desire for revenge against Lucia, he knew there were more pressing matters at hand. At the top of his list was destroying the Ferrux Sanguina spell.

Lucia was not the only person he despised. He also loathed that false goddess, Alinna, the so-called Saintess who had attempted to usurp his wife’s place in the world while diminishing the legacy she had left behind.

What a shameless woman. How dare she?

Zhao Li Xin knew the type well. Women like Alinna treasured their reputations above all else. They carefully crafted flawless public images, hiding their ambition and hypocrisy behind masks of virtue. The Saintess had diligently spent years cultivating the image of a benevolent healer, a savior beloved by the masses.

He intended to tear that image apart. He would expose the lies beneath the saintly facade and force the world to see the true face of the woman they worshipped so fervently.

Once the truth was revealed, the admiration, faith, and devotion she enjoyed would crumble into disgust and contempt, and Zhao Li Xin would make certain Alinna enjoyed every moment of it.

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Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Dolza, a vastly different scene was unfolding.

Outside the towering building of Elysium, a sea of people had gathered long before dawn. Worshippers, pilgrims, nobles, merchants, and commoners alike filled the grand plaza, their eager faces turned toward the raised podium erected before the sacred building.

After weeks of absence, the Saintess had finally appeared once more. A wave of excitement swept through the crowd as Alinna stepped onto the platform.

She wore the same flowing white dress she was known for, its delicate fabric fluttering gently in the afternoon breeze. Her golden hair cascaded freely down her back like spun sunlight, framing a face that seemed paler than usual.

Yet rather than diminishing her beauty, the faint signs of exhaustion only deepened the sympathy and concern of those who beheld her.

To the faithful gathered below, she looked like a martyr who had pushed herself beyond her limits for the sake of others. The murmurs among the crowd quickly died away as Alinna approached the podium.

She placed a hand over her chest and offered them a gentle smile.

"My dear brothers and sisters," she began softly.

Though her voice was not loud, it carried effortlessly across the plaza.

"I apologize for my absence. I know many of you have worried these past few weeks."

A chorus of voices immediately rose from the crowd.

"Saintess, please take care of yourself!"

"You’ve already done so much for us!"

"You don’t need to push yourself so hard!"

The concern in their voices appeared genuine.

Alinna lowered her gaze modestly.

"Your kindness humbles me," she said. "But how can I rest when there are still people suffering? How can I look away when there are wounds left unhealed, children left in pain, and families praying for a miracle?"

The crowd fell silent.

"Life is often cruel. We face hardships that seem impossible to overcome. There are moments when despair whispers that we should surrender."

Her voice grew firmer. "But perseverance is not the absence of suffering. It is the courage to continue despite it."

The sunlight caught her golden hair as she lifted her head.

"I believe every life is precious. No matter your birth, your station, or your past, your pain deserves to be heard, and your life deserves to be cherished."

Many in the audience wiped tears from their eyes. An elderly woman clasped her hands together as she prayed. Several children stared at Alinna with pure admiration.

"I may be only one person," Alinna continued, her voice trembling ever so slightly, "but as long as I possess this gift, I will continue to use it for those in need. I will continue healing the sick, comforting the suffering, and standing beside those who have lost hope."

Thunderous applause erupted throughout the plaza.

The crowd cheered her name with unrestrained devotion.

"Saintess Alinna!"

"Saintess Alinna!"

"Long live, Saintess Alinna!"

Thousands of voices merged into a single deafening roar.

To those gathered before Elysium, Alinna was more than a healer. More than a saint.

She was a new hope, a beacon for a new world that still struggling to find its footing amid uncertainty and change. In an age where old certainties had crumbled and new fears lurked beyond every horizon, she stood as a promise that salvation was still possible.

Countless eyes fixed upon her with reverence and devotion. Some gazed in awe, others in gratitude, and many with the desperate faith of those who had nowhere else to turn.

To them, it was as though a goddess had descended into the mortal realm, and Alinna stood at the center of their worship, bathed in sunlight and adoration alike.

The golden rays seemed to halo her figure, while the cheers of the crowd washed over her like a tide. She accepted it all with a gentle, serene smile, neither encouraging nor rejecting their devotion.

Soon, the sermon came to an end.

Under the guidance of Elysium’s attendants, the worshippers seeking treatment formed orderly lines that stretched across the plaza. Some leaned on canes, others were supported by family members, while a few lay on makeshift stretchers, their faces etched with pain and hope.

One by one, they were brought before the raised platform.

The first patient was a middle-aged man whose left leg had been amputated and replaced with a prosthetic leg. Assisted by two attendants, he made his way onto the podium and lowered himself into the chair prepared for him.

"Can you bring my leg back?" the man’s eyes gleamed with hope. ℯ

The crowd quieted immediately. Thousands of people, including reporters from numerous news outlets, watched with bated breath.

Alinna stepped forward. Then her smile faded from her lips, replaced by an expression of solemn concentration. She clasped her hands before her chest as though offering a prayer and slowly closed her eyes.

For a moment, silence reigned. The wind stirred the hem of her white dress, carrying strands of golden hair across her shoulders.

Then a soft radiance began to gather around her folded hands.

Back in Sweetville City, Zhao Li Xin silently climbed onto the rooftops, his movements swift and sharp, not a single soldier or paladin noticed his presence.

Once he reach the roof, he soon spotted a small window near the temple roof; however, it was sealed shut.

With a simple gesture, he summoned an immortal flame that enveloped his entire palm. The golden flames danced around his fingers, emitting such intense heat that it made the air around them vibrate.

He pressed his hand against the glass, and within moments, the window began to melt silently, flowing like liquid before evaporating into nothingness.

Once the gap was wide enough, Zhao Li Xin slipped inside, landing lightly on one of the wooden beams supporting the ceiling. He crouched upon it and looked down.

The sight before him was quite familiar.

At the center of the chamber stood a stone ceremonial table. A man lay strapped upon it, his wrists and ankles bound tightly with thick leather restraints.

Beneath the table was a large Ferrux Sanguina symbol painted in dark crimson, its intricate lines spreading across the floor like veins. Directly above, an identical symbol had been drawn onto the ceiling.

The two formations mirrored one another perfectly.

Around the table stood a circle of figures dressed in white robes, their faces concealed beneath deep hoods.

The man strapped to the ceremonial table struggled desperately against his restraints. Veins bulged along his neck as he twisted and thrashed, panic consuming him with every passing second.

"Stop!" he shouted, his voice reverberating throughout the chamber. "Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?!"

No one answered. The robed figures remained perfectly still, surrounding the altar like silent statues standing vigil over a forgotten rite.

The man’s breathing grew ragged. Fear clouded his eyes as desperation slowly replaced his anger.

"Please!" he cried. "Let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. PLEASE!!"

Silence enveloped the room. No one seemed to care, as if they hadn’t heard him. The tense silence hung heavy in the room, making the prisoner’s desperate pleas sound even more pitiful.

From his perch above, Zhao Li Xin observed the situation with an indifferent gaze. Then a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Then, all of a sudden—

BOOM!

A tremendous explosion shattered the silence. The entire room shook violently as a deafening blast echoed throughout the temple. Dust fell from the ceiling, and cries of shock erupted from the crowd as the ground trembled beneath their feet.