Hero’s Downfall Report

22 – Report on the Fall of Innocence (9)

Cain blinked his eyes. Lily slightly lowered her head, her eyes also seemed to be in pain.

“So let us now bless them.”

Haspel’s clear voice echoed.

“We plead to the god who died and yet lived, and lived and yet died. Please dissolve their accusations into light. Please compensate their suffered pain with light. Please expose their sorrow with light, and illuminate the path they must take with bright light. We pray. We pray. We pray.”

Small beams of light poured down from the glass ceiling. Reverend Haspel and the investigators brushed off the ashes stuck to the patients’ heads and foreheads.

Cough.

The sound of coughing was heard. Those who were devoutly concentrating on the mass furrowed their brows. But soon their brows turned into surprise.

Cough. Cough. Cough!

The patients were coughing. It wasn’t just one or two of them. All fifty patients were coughing. It seemed to be more than just because of the ashes. And they spoke,

“Uuhuhuhuhu.”

“aaahahahahahaaa.”

They spoke. It was clumsy and hard to hear, but they clearly spoke.

“Euhuhuhuhuh.”

There was excitement. Joy. Delight arose. Those standing by the patients witnessed it. Those lying on the beds, like a red goldfish flapping its mouth as if it had caught something, their tongues danced with joy.

“It’s a miracle…”

“Euhuhuhuhuhuh!”

The merciful god did not turn a blind eye to their suffering, after all.

The patients were still bound by chains. It was a measure to prevent them from falling asleep and falling off the beds.

That’s why the kind and benevolent investigators and reverends thought that the patients were so overjoyed that even the chains were jingling and they couldn’t control their bodies.

“Ahahahaha.”

Clang, thud. The iron chains loosened one by one.

“A miracle! A miracle has occurred! The divine has revived their tongues, blessed them to speak again!”

“Ohhh!”

Ignorant spectators in the world cheered joyously. Followers of the inquisitorial magistrate kneeled and offered prayers.

Knights tried to move forward to get a closer look at the miracle.

The light grew brighter and brighter, piercing everyone’s eyes.

Outside, the murmurs of the trainee knights and followers of mercy knights were heard. They seemed eager to witness what was happening inside.

Only three people didn’t smile. Cain. Lily. High Inquisitor Haspel, the priest.

Cain raised his hand to his forehead, furrowing his brow, trying to see what was happening.

Something was off. It felt uneasy. The current situation, the inexplicable circumstances, did not sit well with him.

That’s why Cain noticed Haspel’s bewilderment. The inquisitor, who seemed worldly and indulgent, was taking a step back.

Cain finally realized what was so strange.

“Lily.”

“Yes.”

“There are no shadows.”

Cain and Lily looked at each other. Not a single trace of shadow could be found on their faces. Everyone inside was the same.

There were no shadows. The light poured relentlessly from the floor, the walls, the ceiling. The only visible shadows were inside the wide-open mouths of the patients.

Cain grabbed Lily’s sleeve, swiftly drawing a symbol on the back of her hand.

“Step back and wait for the right moment.”

It was not an easy task. Even people from outside were pouring in, making it a chaotic situation where Cain and Lily were being pushed forward even when they stood still.

“He has awakened!”

Someone shouted, and everyone’s gaze turned to the center.

Under the ceiling of light, stood William, the chaste knight and archbishop.

His arms and legs were still mangled, his body twisted, and his broken neck made it difficult for him to even raise his head properly.

But still, he stood on the bed as if he were “unharmed.” When he opened his torn mouth, his trembling red tongue became clearly visible.

From the archbishop’s mouth, with his neck twisted at an angle that made it impossible for an ordinary person to speak, let alone breathe, the tongue trembled.

“…Please do not overlook the abundance of our enemies.”

It sounded like the scream of an eagle struck by an arrow. The cheering crowd fell silent.

“They have built their foundation on falsehood, so everything will crumble when the time comes. Let the children become orphans and beggars, for no land will shelter them for more than a day.”

The archbishop’s jaw did not move at all. The only thing that twitched and moved was his tongue, while he was alive and breathing.

“The birds will fill their bellies with the flesh of those who enjoy tearing others apart, and those who have committed sins with paper, ink, and pen, their descendants will erase their names with paper, ink, and pen.

Look at the enemy’s child. The child held firmly with both feet tied to a rock. They will suffer the same fate as our children, just as the enemy did to us.”

“Get out.”

Haspel’s eyes flashed.

“Get out! Get out of here right now! This place must be emptied! It must be emptied!”

But Haspel’s cry did not reach even those nearby. People could not leave no matter what.

Those lying on the bed, those whose tongues were dancing out of their mouths, which were uttering incomprehensible words just a moment ago.

“To those who curse others as easily as changing clothes, curses will take hold like flesh and blood, and the tongue of those who speak ill will wither and twist around their owner’s throat!”

The dead branches pierced the earth, starved by the land that withheld nourishment!

The withered tree stretched its hands towards the sky, pleading!

“I offer my body to you, burn this defiant land to ashes, I beseech you!”

The tongues chimed in unison. It was not the words coming from the patients’ throats, but the tongues themselves. Bloated and swollen, turning purple and decaying, those tongues, bitten and dripping darkness, spoke.

“Tongue, the one who committed sins! Cut it off! It is better to be saved without a tongue in hell!”

“Arm, the one who committed sins! Cut it off! It is better to be saved without an arm in hell!”

“Genitals, the one who committed sins! Cut them off! It is better to be saved without genitals in hell!”

“Tongue…!”

Dr. Bartholomeo’s screams echoed through the investigation room.

“The tongue has sprouted! The black tongue! Inside people!”

The tongues grew. Like sprouting onions, they slowly devoured their owner’s bodies and grew higher, higher.

“Get out!”

The inquisitor shouted.

“Fanatic! Twisted prayers of a zealot! Leave now! Leave!”

The door slammed shut. The knights and attendants outside pounded on the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

The tongues grew faster than vines, bamboo, or adolescent desires. The never-ending black tongues shot up like stems, extending their branches.

“Nngh!”

The High Inquisitor’s body was entangled by the stem of a tongue. Countless black tongues licked and slithered across the Inquisitor’s face, arms, and body.

Father Haspel struggled, but the tongues held onto him, dragging him towards the wall.

Like ivy, the tongues grew and crawled up the wall. At the end of the vine, fruits appeared. The faces of victims. The patients’ faces. Human faces. Human tongues. They cried out, shedding tears of blood.

“Run away!”

At last, they could say what they wanted to say with all their heart.

“Run away! Escape! Please! Please escape! Fanatics, the fanatics have come! The fanatics will burn everyone!”

But the bodies, losing their tongues and heads, could not do so.

Neither dead nor alive, unable to walk or crawl, the flesh and bones, wandering like maggots searching for rotten flesh, crawled on the floor from the patient’s bed.

One body touched the foot of the bell ringer. It swallowed the bell ringer, who couldn’t even make a sound. A large leg protruded out of the big hole in its throat, futilely waving in the air, trembling all over.

It wasn’t just one. It was all the bodies. All 50 of them.

Having devoured the monks and bell ringers, they forcibly spread their legs. Like ants spreading their jaws to tear flesh. Like raising a toast and then everyone picking up a piece of meat.

The chaste knights let out a bitter laugh.

“Receive… the blessing.”

The bodies rushed in.

“Knights! Draw your swords! Annihilate the evil!”

Commander Marco shouted. The knights of mercy all drew their swords at once.

“Oh, light!”

The holy knights cried out. A brilliant light surged in their hands, in their swords. In an instant, the holy knights and the knights were ready for a round defense.

However, the chaste knight just laughed.

“Oh, light?”

A hero purer than anyone in the world burst into laughter.

If the light of the holy knights was the brilliance of a newly born star, the light of Bishop William was the dying light of a dying star.

The newly born purity, having enjoyed everything, was devoured by the light that leaped around, wanting to take even more.

It was a terrifying beam of light that blinded people. A blade in the dark night. The eyes of wild beasts. And so spoke one of the seven heroes who had overthrown the demon king.

“Kill them all. Embrace them all. Let them be reborn within you. The gods will recognize you as their children.”

The light of the holy knights consumed their master. The knights could not even scream. The sacred passion within them, the pure faith, the pledge to vanquish evil and protect the weak, tore through the bodies of the knights of the Order of Mercy.

Soon they became pillars. Pillars of sacred fire. The pillars of fire raged, scorching the floor and ceiling. The crackling and splitting of overheated stone echoed in everyone’s ears.

“Lord Aldric! Break through the door with your subordinates! The main force is protecting the knights of Hurburk Castle!”

The ill-tempered red-haired knight clung to the door. Along with the other knights, they pounded on the doors of the cathedral like a siege engine. From outside, the sound of squires and apprentices donning armor could be heard.

But they did not flinch. The sticky tongues on the walls, the stems of the tongues, mocked and ridiculed as they clung to the walls and the door.

They even darted out their tongues to lick the faces of the knights and squires. As if mocking the spears, the tongues did the same.

Commander Marco and his unit fought off and cut down the approaching masses. But it was in vain. The fallen flesh, like the sick, reattached itself. The severed flesh rejoined, and the spilled blood returned to the bodies like snakes finding their way back to their den.

“This… what in the world…!”

Lily drew her sword. She intended to cut down the masses along with the members of the Order of Mercy. It was not a rational decision. It was the action of a knight, ingrained in her, to defeat the enemy, to drive out the abhorrent. Her rationality was paralyzed, as she had never experienced such chaos before.

But Cain grabbed her arm.

“Lily. Sheathe your sword. We’re here to rescue the high inquisitor.”

Unconsciously, Lily sheathed her sword. Her bewildered eyes met Cain’s. His pupils did not waver in the slightest. Despite his body trembling slightly in the

Thud.

The chaste knight forcibly turned his head. At an almost precarious angle, he gazed at Cain and Lilly.

“Blessing…”

In the moment his mouth opened.

“Main force!”

Commander Marco shouted.

“Aldric Lord, let your subordinates protect themselves! The main force attacks the Archbishop’s neck, charge, charge! The masses can’t see ahead. Flank! Push them with your bodies! Engaging with those things is futile!”

“Density! Push them back by concentrating!”

The knightly order, wielding swords like fierce whirlwinds, solidified like a steadfast anvil.

“Density! Density! Don’t fight! Push them back!”

Like a hammer slowly traversing a mud field, the knightly order advanced toward the Archbishop. The chaste knight turned his gaze away from Cain and Lilly, looking at the knightly order.

He blessed them.

“I will love you all to the extent of cursing you, and bestow a blessing enjoying eternal life together until the end of the world.”

The masses leaped towards the comfort of the knightly order.

Cain and Lilly, out of sight, rushed towards the altar.