The slaughter ended in complete silence.
As the black-robed figures gently lowered the paladins of the Church to the ground, a faint metallic scent of blood began to spread through the air.
Perhaps such an overt act—one so likely to raise suspicion in the target—would be improper for a professional assassination guild.
But for a cult…
It was perfect.
"Our god shall descend in the end. The world shall be destroyed. All things shall return to the embrace of corruption."
As was their custom, they stood at the entrance of the villa, raising their weapons high and murmuring the chant that belonged to them alone.
The voices wove together, endless and low, like the whispering of an ancient god.
Then, one after another, as though offering their loyalty in tribute, they stepped forward into the villa grounds.
However—
At the very instant the leading black-robed man crossed the gate…
A dazzling radiance flared beneath his feet.
Then a second.
A third.
Like a grand light show embedded across the earth surrounding the villa, every cultist found a glowing mark igniting beneath them.
The light vanished in a blink—
Yet it was only the brief stillness before a volcanic eruption.
In the very next moment, pillars of brilliance burst violently into the sky.
They were like the sharpest spears, tearing through the ground and piercing straight into the heavens.
In an instant, the entire center of the Church was illuminated by those towering beams.
The townspeople—who had only just retreated indoors after witnessing the clash of Saint-tier power—had not yet recovered from the earlier upheaval…
When they were struck again by this sudden catastrophe, trembling with fear.
Most residents sealed their doors and windows, hiding inside like ostriches burying their heads in the sand.
But a few—those who considered themselves capable, or simply bold—stepped outside and looked toward the pillars that soared into the sky.
And what they saw made their blood run cold.
Upon every single beam…
A figure in a black cloak had been impaled.
Blood streamed down the columns of light, only to evaporate into crimson mist before it could even reach the ground, burned away by the residual heat within the radiance.
Before long, a faint stench of blood spread through the area surrounding the grand cathedral.
"So the Welcoming God Society failed… It seems even a sixth-tier powerhouse is no more than an ant in that envoy's eyes."
At the Savant City Alchemy Academy, a filthy little girl stared at the distant pillars of light and shook her head slowly.
Everything had already been written by fate.
Isaac coming to trouble John.
The Welcoming God Society interfering during the battle between John and Isaac.
Even the cult's elites dying before accomplishing anything—
All of it was destiny's arrangement.
Fate was there, immutable.
It influenced everything.
It decided everything.
Witches of the Fate lineage were nothing more than observers drifting along the river of destiny.
They could do nothing.
Change nothing.
All they could do…
Was watch.
As the Witch of Misfortune, if she wished to open her own path to godhood, then naturally she could only follow fate's guidance and bear witness to tragedies that were destined to unfold.
And in this era, what tragedy could possibly surpass the catastrophe that was fated to reshape the entire Southern Continent?
That was why she was here.
Not as Hel had imagined—following the orders of the Fate Witch to enact some conspiracy.
She was merely a spectator, dragging over a small stool to watch the drama unfold.
Only…
Marum glanced at the circle of academy students collapsed around her, all dressed in white coats, and found it somewhat difficult to enjoy her "snack."
They were noble students of the alchemy academy.
Yet each of them, for one reason or another, had met with an accident and fallen here.
Was it because Marum had forced them down?
Of course not—she was not powerful enough to control the river of fate itself.
But to say she had nothing to do with it…
That would also be untrue.
They had shown her only the slightest trace of malice.
And that was enough to draw the misfortune that constantly swirled around her.
Tiny, insignificant probabilities in the river of destiny were amplified… just a little.
The result was obvious.
Some of them had blown up their cauldrons while brewing potions.
Others had mistakenly swallowed the wrong elixir.
In the end, all of them lay here foaming at the mouth.
Normally, they would not die—because their fates had not yet reached their endpoint.
Of course…
Those with weaker destinies were exceptions.
Meanwhile, three figures cloaked completely in robes appeared not far from the Savant Cathedral.
One was a young knight.
One was a nun dressed in holy vestments.
And the last…
Was York, drenched in blood.
They were the final survivors of the battle York had ignited earlier.
But they carried another identity as well.
They were puppets—controlled by Imshi.
The leading Sister Evelyn had already been overtaken entirely by Imshi's consciousness.
She gazed toward the towering pillars of light and frowned.
The cultists of the Welcoming God Society had been expendable pawns, dispatched only to die.
Their purpose was to test Old Chui-de's true strength.
Yet those people had not even come close to Old Chui-de…
Before John's pre-laid trap wiped them out completely.
That alone disrupted Imshi's plan.
With no choice left, she could only take the risk and activate her second strategy.
To send out these three far more valuable chess pieces…
And force Old Chui-de into the open.
The opportunity was rare.
If she could not accomplish this while Isaac and John were locked in battle…
Then it would become far more difficult afterward.
At that point, unless she deployed an emotional avatar and allowed her true power to descend—
She would have no hope of defeating John, who possessed the Elven Mother Tree.
Imshi was no fool.
She understood that these puppets were different from the cultists.
They were Saints of the Holy Tribunal Church—legitimate insiders of the system.
Approaching Old Chui-de would not be difficult at all.
And York, in particular, was an old acquaintance of Old Chui-de.
Thus, it did not take long before the trio crossed through the cathedral's other sectors and arrived before the villa.
But at this moment…
The villa was sealed tightly within those pillars of light that stabbed into the clouds.
Staring at the dense, terrifying energy gathered within them…
Even Imshi—an old witch who had seen countless horrors—could not help but frown.