Chapter 21: The Requiem of the Holy City
The Holy City of Valerius was no longer a place of peace. The bells of the Great Cathedral, which usually rang with a melodic clarity, now tolled with a frantic, rhythmic desperation. News of the disaster at the Fields of Grace had reached the high walls not through a messenger, but through a nightmare.
At the city's western gate, the sentries watched in horror as a small group of survivors limped toward them. Leading the group was High Paladin Valerius the Brave—or what was left of him. His golden armor was rusted and cracked, leaking a foul-smelling violet smoke. His eyes, once bright with holy fervor, were now two pinpricks of purple light in a face of ash.
"Open the gates!" he croaked, but the sound was layered with a demonic echo. "I have brought... a message from the King."
Inside the High Council Chamber, the atmosphere was one of stifled panic. Pope Clement IX, an old man whose skin was like translucent parchment, sat on his white throne, his hands trembling as he clutched the Holy Scepter. Surrounding him were the remaining Cardinals and the Grand Commanders of the Faith.
"The Crusade is... gone?" the Pope whispered, as if the words themselves were blasphemy. "Twenty thousand men... the pride of the seven kingdoms... erased in a single afternoon?"
"Not erased, Holiness," a Cardinal replied, his voice shaking. "Worse. They were converted. The scouts report that the fallen knights are marching back toward us... but they are no longer human. They have become the vanguard of the Sinful King."
The doors to the chamber burst open. Malachi, the Corrupted Inquisitor, didn't enter—it was a magical projection cast by Cyan himself that manifested in the center of the room. The air in the chamber turned freezing instantly, frost forming on the golden ornaments.
"Greetings, little shepherds," Cyan's voice echoed from the projection, cold and mocking.
The Pope stood up, his scepter glowing with a faint, dying light. "Cyan Valerian! You have committed the ultimate sin! You have dared to desecrate the souls of the faithful. The Heavens will strip the skin from your soul for this!"
"The Heavens are silent, Clement," Cyan's projection replied, walking slowly around the table as if he were physically there. "I've looked into the void, and there is no one there but me. Your 'Goddess' is a memory, a ghost kept alive by your fear of the dark. I am here to give you something real to fear."
Cyan's projection stopped in front of the Pope, leaning in until their faces were inches apart. "In three days, I will reach your gates. I don't want your gold, and I don't want your prayers. I want the Sepulcher of the First Saint. Give it to me, and I might let your priests live as my scribes. Refuse... and I will turn this 'Holy City' into a monument of bone and weeping."
The projection vanished in a burst of violet sparks, leaving the Council in a state of absolute terror.
Meanwhile, in the heart of the desecrated Fields of Grace, Cyan was overseeing the construction of his new mobile base—the Catherdal of Despair.
Under the direction of Lilith and Duke Silvermane, thousands of Sin-Wraiths were hauling massive stones from the ruins of nearby holy shrines. Using the [System Skill: Architectural Corruption], Cyan was merging the stone with void energy, creating a fortress that pulsed like a living heart.
Cyan stood on the balcony of his new spire, his purple eye fixed on the horizon. Behind him, Isabella approached, holding a chalice of indigo liquid—mana distilled from the souls of the fallen Paladins.
"The 'Mark of Sin' is spreading through the conquered villages, Master," Isabella said, kneeling as she offered the chalice. "The peasants no longer pray to the Light. They pray to the 'Purple Star' that hangs over our camp. They have realized that your darkness provides protection, while the Light only brought them war."
Cyan took a sip of the mana-distilled liquid, feeling a surge of raw power. "The masses are simple, Isabella. They don't care about morality; they care about results. Give them a master who wins, and they will call him a god."
[System Notification: Corruption Index reached 35%.]
[New Ability Unlocked: 'Gaze of the Usurper'.]
[Effect: You can now see the 'True Sins' of any target, making them easier to break.]
"Master," Elara materialized from the floorboards, her breathing slightly hurried. "The Church has hidden something in the Sepulcher. My shadows couldn't enter the lowest level. There is a seal there... something ancient. It doesn't feel like holy light. It feels... different."
Cyan's interest was piqued. "Ancient, you say? Perhaps the 'First Saint' wasn't as pure as the history books claim. Everything in this world has a shadow, Elara. I just haven't found the right light to expose it yet."
He turned to his goddesses. "Prepare the army. We do not wait for the three days I promised. The Pope is currently trying to summon a 'Greater Angel' through a forbidden ritual. We will strike tonight, while they are mid-prayer. I want to see the look on their faces when their 'Guardian' is born into my hands."
"Lilith," Cyan's voice was a low growl of command. "Prepare the 'Blight-Spells.' We are going to rain corruption upon their 'Holy City' until the white marble turns as black as my heart."
"With pleasure, my King," Lilith purred, her eyes glowing with a malicious violet light.
As the sun set, the sky over the Holy Territory didn't turn orange or red. It turned a bruised, swirling purple. The Great Crusade of the Sinful King was on the move again, a silent, monstrous tide of shadow heading toward the last bastion of the Light.