The Perfect Child's strange, glossy pink eyes fixed on Gaia, whose killing intent was spilling into the air, and a teasing, beautiful smile appeared on her face.
A strange ripple passed through the way she looked at Gaia, and her long crimson tongue could not help but slide across her soft lips.
Though this was only their first meeting, she had already caught a scent from Gaia that was so intoxicating she could hardly restrain herself.
It was the aura of a soul overflowing with rich psychic power, while also carrying a mingling of both masculine and feminine qualities.
How delicious that would be.
At the thought, even her breathing quickened, and an unusual flush appeared across her moon-pale cheeks.
After a brief spasm ran through her body, she slowly exhaled a breath tinged with a strange fragrance.
Then, with fingers white and slender as spring onions, she lightly pointed toward Gaia. Her voice, soft and melodious as heavenly music, carried an eerie echo as it spread across the square that had already become a kind of hell:
"O seekers of salvation, the claws of a demon seek to tear apart the heavenly stair that leads you to the Six Circles."
"Can you bear to watch the Paradise that is about to descend be destroyed by the hands of a stubborn demon?"
Her words were like hooks that clawed at the hearts of her listeners, dragging up the emotions of the believers who were already on the verge of death and confusion from tormenting themselves.
At the same time, her fingertips rubbed together, and a strand of strange powder drifted from her palm into the wind, turning into a sweet but unnatural mist that the believers drew into their bodies through breath and through their exposed wounds.
These lost souls, who firmly believed that pain would carry them into a beautiful paradise, had already lost the ability to think normally.
Now, the emotions and desires they had been suppressing were ignited in an instant and turned into an unstoppable blaze.
That violet-red fire filled their eyes, staining them purple and crimson while forcing the last reserves of potential out of their bodies.
Their organs and cells began to destroy themselves, flooding their systems with hormones and burning away every scrap of stored energy, forcing these already-collapsing bodies to move one last time, and at their strongest.
There was now only one strange echo left in their hearts:
Kill the demon.
Gaia felt countless gazes filled with madness, hatred, and fury stabbing toward her from the violet-lit night.
She looked at the cathedral in the distance, so solemn and sacred in form, and an endless sorrow rose inside her.
The only crime these believers had committed was trusting that, in this dim and filthy world, someone might truly bring them happiness.
They had been devoured by corruption wrapped in the guise of hope, just like the puppets in the underhive of Oteanta who had been consumed by bloodthirsty killing urges, beyond all possibility of recovery.
And this tragedy was unfolding right in front of a cathedral devoted to the Master of Mankind.
How cruel.
How bitter.
Oh Emperor, have You closed Your eyes?
Gaia drew in a deep breath, feeling the strange longsword in her hand vibrate harder and harder. Then she lifted her clean, resolute face, her blade-sharp gaze cutting through the air thick with rot and sweet corruption.
She stared at those believers shambling toward her with weapons in hand. Through their frenzied, twisted, blood-smeared smiles, she saw the pain and confusion hidden beneath.
These souls were already lost.
The only thing she could still give them was release.
Her powerful arm slowly rose, and in the shriek of steel tearing through the night, Gaia's body became a death-shadow weaving through the ranks of the lost at a speed no mortal eye could fully follow.
With each turn of her wrist, bright sword-light, smooth and dazzling as a white river, flashed across their throats.
There was no extra pain.
Only a moment of coolness.
And then they lost all sensation in their bodies forever.
To the lost souls still rushing in from farther away, what they saw was deeply unnerving. The "demon" their inner voices had directed them to kill vanished in an instant, turning into a blur of pale flashing sword-light too quick for the eye to follow.
They could not help but stop.
The primal fear of death rising in their hearts made it hard for them to take another step.
Some of the believers who had been less deeply influenced by the cult even began to lose the madness that had covered their reason, their eyes shifting from violet-red back into blank confusion and fear.
All of this was taken in by the purple-haired woman on the platform. Breathing in the blood-heavy air mixed with rotting stench, her face showed a faintly intoxicated look, but there was also a trace of seriousness in her eyes.
She had already known this newcomer was no ordinary person, but this level of speed and combat skill still surprised her.
But for the figure who had already seized her fascination, it felt as though the difference was only that the little soldiers had been upgraded into elite versions of the same little soldiers. In essence, it changed almost nothing.
Watching Gaia's killing steps, graceful as a dance, her lips curled uncontrollably upward, and the hunger in her beautiful eyes only intensified.
At the same time, the blood in the air gathered together, blending into a rich and intoxicating fragrance that filled her body and mind with endless delight.
A scene like this made every part of her throb with excitement.
But sadly, this exquisite performance was about to end.
At that thought, genuine regret appeared in her eyes.
After all, the poison she had prepared in advance had already begun taking effect under the catalyst she had just scattered.
...
Solomon looked at the crate in front of him, then toward the direction Gaia had suddenly charged off in, and could not help sighing.
He stared into the pitch-black darkness ahead. He could smell the strange rot and the faint sweetness in the air, but he could sense nothing else.
That ink-black darkness stood before him like some man-eating monster.
Solomon thought for a moment, then gritted his teeth and pulled out the laspistol he had swiped from the still-unconscious Commissioner Horn.
It was a beautifully made old weapon, an antique of real age. Many forge worlds in the present day could not even produce a killing tool this small and refined on their own.
Feeling the weight of the laspistol in his hand, Solomon took a deep breath and started walking in the direction Gaia had gone.
He was afraid, but he could not bear to simply stand by while his companion walked alone into an unknown danger.
Even if it looked stupid, even if it was probably just volunteering himself as a casualty while being unlikely to help much, he still chose to follow her.
At the very least, he wanted her to know that she was not fighting alone.
"You're the biggest high-risk investment of my life. I can't relax unless I keep my eyes on you."
That was what he muttered to himself.
But not long after he left his spot, a shrill and strange creaking sound came from behind him.
It sounded like rusted gear assemblies grinding together, and it immediately caught his attention, making him decide that he ought to go back and make sure the crate was still safe first.
With the laspistol in hand and holding his breath, Solomon moved lightly toward the source of the noise.
Then, after rounding the bend, he saw a strange hunched figure in the dim starlight.
Beneath its robe, a pair of extremely thick mechanical arms caught the faint light as they lifted the crate from the ground.
"Damn it, stop! That's mine!"
Seeing someone pick up his crate made Solomon feel even worse than a husband catching someone in bed with his wife.
And then, in the next instant, a cold mechanical voice gave him a reply that sounded oddly familiar:
"I picked it up, so now it's mine."
(End of Chapter)
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