CHAPTER 73: Crystalline Revelation
The woman returned far more quickly this time.
Her footsteps echoed sharply against the polished marble as she hurried back into the vast hall of the High Chapel. Gone was the hesitation from before—now her movements were stiff, almost mechanical, as if fear itself was driving her forward. Her head remained bowed, shoulders trembling, and in both hands she carried a silver tray that gleamed faintly beneath the sacred lights.
Resting upon the tray was another vial.
At first glance, it looked similar to the previous one, but the longer Zodac stared at it, the more obvious the difference became. This vial shimmered—no, *breathed*—with a quiet brilliance. The liquid inside refracted the light into sharp, crystalline rays, scattering pale rainbows across the marble floor. It was not loud or overwhelming, but its presence felt heavy, authoritative, as if even the air around it had been purified.
The woman stopped before Zodac and lowered the tray with trembling hands.
For several long seconds, Zodac did not move.
He simply stared.
The chapel seemed to hold its breath.
The faint hum of divine energy brushed against his senses, stirring something deep within him.
: Holy Water
: Highest Form (Crystalline Water)
A slow breath left Zodac's lips.
So this was it.
The real thing.
Not a diluted imitation. Not a commercialized fraud sold to desperate villagers. This was holy water in its purest form—condensed divinity trapped within glass.
Zodac raised his right hand at last. His fingers closed around the vial, the cool surface sending a shiver up his arm. He lifted it from the tray and dropped it into his cross bag without ceremony. The soft clink echoed unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent hall.
Behind him, the woman turned away.
Her composure shattered completely.
Silent tears streamed down her face as she retreated, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. She did not dare look back.
Another nun stepped forward—much younger than the rest. Her eyes flickered nervously between Zodac and the pope, her posture rigid with rehearsed obedience.
"Six gold coins," she said softly.
Zodac did not reply.
He reached into his cross bag and withdrew a pouch, its weight evident even before he released it. Without counting, without pausing, he dropped it into her waiting hands. The metallic clatter inside was unmistakable—silver coins, precisely measured, equal to six gold.
The young nun blinked.
She opened the pouch, peered inside, then turned toward the pope and gave a slight nod. No words were exchanged. Whatever calculation or confirmation was required had already been made.
Zodac turned away.
His boots echoed as he walked toward the grand chapel doors, each step deliberate, controlled. His left arm burned dully at his side, numb yet heavy, but he refused to acknowledge it. The curse crawled higher beneath his skin, as if sensing its dwindling time.
He was inches from leaving.
"Hope you're not forgetting something."
The pope's voice drifted behind him—smooth, calm, almost amused.
Zodac stopped.
The massive doors loomed before him, engraved with depictions of saints, heroes, and divine miracles. He did not turn around immediately.
"Forgetting what?" he asked flatly.
Slowly, he turned his head just enough to look over his shoulder.
The pope was smiling.
the polite, welcoming smile from before.
But This one was sharper—calculated.
"People bring offerings to the church," the pope said mildly, spreading his hands as if stating a universal truth. "No one leaves the High Chapel empty-handed—without the Lord's blessing."
His gaze locked onto Zodac.
"Don't you wish to receive the Lord's blessing, Elemental Hero?"
The words struck like a blade.
Zodac's eyes widened as agony exploded within him. The pain surged violently through his left arm, tore into his chest, and stabbed straight through his heart as though something unseen had pierced him from within. His breath hitched, the world tilting for a fraction of a second.
Dark purple veins pulsed faintly beneath his skin, spreading higher along his collarbone and neck.
He forced his expression to remain neutral.
But the pope noticed.
So did the nuns.
"I have other things to do," Zodac said quietly.
He turned fully away and pushed open the chapel doors.
Cold air rushed in, breaking the oppressive sanctity behind him.
"Farewell, Elemental Hero," the pope called after him.
Zodac did not look back.
"Until we meet again."
---
That night, Zodac found himself alone in a small rented room on the outskirts of the capital.
The walls were bare stone, cold and unwelcoming. A single candle burned on a wooden table, its flame flickering weakly and casting long, distorted shadows across the room. The air smelled faintly of wax and old dust.
Zodac sat on the bed, shirtless.
His left arm lay exposed.
What had once been fair skin was now almost entirely consumed by dark purple corruption. The discoloration stretched from his fingers, crawled over his shoulder, and spread across his chest in jagged, vein-like patterns. It pulsed faintly, as if alive.
He clenched his jaw.
Dipping a fresh white bandage into a shallow tray filled with crystalline holy water, he began wrapping it around his arm and shoulder. The moment the soaked fabric touched his skin, a reaction occurred.
Dark vapor seeped from beneath the bandage, rising slowly into the air like smoke escaping a dying fire. Zodac hissed as the holy water burned— physically, clashing violently with the curse embedded within him.
"What did I fucking get myself into…" he muttered.
His gaze drifted to the vial resting on the table.
There was still some holy water left.
Not much—but enough.
Then his eyes shifted.
To the orb embedded in his left hand.
The green mana sphere attached firm to the strap on his arm , its glow unstable, flickering faintly. An idea formed—reckless, dangerous, but undeniable.
Slowly, painfully, he reached for the vial.
"Aghhhh!" he groaned as agony flared through his arm, his fingers trembling as he lifted it.
Gritting his teeth, he tipped the vial.
The remaining holy water poured into the orb.
Instantly, the green glow was overwhelmed.
The orb flared—brilliant white light erupting from within it, flooding the room with blinding radiance. The candle's flame wavered violently, nearly extinguished.
(Filling Fast)
Zodac's breath caught.
The pure mana surged, filling faster than anything he had ever seen. It was clean. Refined. Perfect.
Then new text appeared.
"A curse disperser…?" Zodac whispered, disbelief flooding his voice.
"Activate."
The orb shone brighter.
A white, diamond-shaped crystalline structure materialized above it, rotating slowly, humming with divine resonance. Dark vapor poured from his arm, his chest, his neck, torn free as the curse disperses silently and dissolved into nothingness.
The system panel flickers
His body glowed faintly white.
The pressure in his chest eased.
Zodac slumped back against the bed, breath ragged, staring at the fading light.
"What in the world…" he muttered, anger simmering beneath the shock.
If he had known this was possible…
He let out a bitter laugh.
"…I wouldn't have wasted my time coming to the capital at all."