Hearing Dorothy’s words, Vania stood there in shock, utterly dumbfounded. She never could have imagined that the girl before her would say such a thing.
Just the two of us? Against an entire nest of cultists? What kind of joke is this?
"Uh, Miss Dorothy, are you saying… you’ve already gathered intelligence on what’s inside?" Vania asked, still bewildered. Dorothy nodded in response.
"That’s right. According to my investigation, the cult leader inside is about to conduct his advancement ritual very soon. Those children are likely a necessary part of the ceremony. If we don’t stop him, their fate will be grim. Based on the intel I gathered, the Serenity Bureau has likely already been paralyzed by them. We don’t have time to go back and report this, nor will they be able to respond. We have to act on our own."
With her arms crossed, Dorothy spoke with a serious expression. Hearing her words, Vania was once again taken aback.
"What… You’re saying those children are connected to the cultist’s advancement ritual?" Vania said in disbelief.
She had agreed to work with Dorothy not only because she was a follower of "Them," but also because Dorothy had shown her evidence—proof that Song of the Lamb possessed cognitive poison and was a mystical scripture. As a former nun of the Radiance Church who had once primarily worshiped the Holy Mother, Vania’s deep sense of compassion was also a driving force behind her decision to come here.
"I’m almost certain. Otherwise, why would they go through so much trouble to adopt so many children and teach them their secret doctrines? The advancement ritual is about to begin inside. This is our opportunity. Even if we can’t save all the children, at the very least, we must disrupt the ritual and give them a chance to escape. Of course, what comes next will be dangerous. If you want to back out now, you still can…"
Dorothy spoke in a persuasive tone, glancing at the nun beside her. Truthfully, Vania had already done more than enough by helping up to this point. The next step would be far more dangerous, and if she chose not to continue, Dorothy wouldn’t blame her.
After a moment of contemplation, Vania looked at Dorothy with a strange expression. Dorothy was momentarily stunned but then slowly nodded. Seeing this, Vania clenched her teeth and spoke.
"…Alright. In that case, let’s go."
Dusk faded, and night descended.
In the northern mountains of Igwynt, a grand villa glowed under the night lights. Within the villa’s courtyard and surrounding area, numerous personnel dressed in security uniforms patrolled the grounds with lanterns in hand.
These people were originally the servants and guards of Viscount Field’s household. However, after Luer arrived, they had almost all been completely corrupted, becoming devout followers of the Chalice—Luer’s most loyal protectors.
Now, with Luer’s advancement reaching its critical moment, the guards had heightened their vigilance. Some patrolled within the villa and courtyard, while others roamed the perimeter walls with lanterns in hand.
In the dark forest, along a road leading to the villa, two guards walked with lanterns, chatting as they patrolled. One of them seemed unable to suppress his desires any longer.
"Ugh… I can hardly wait anymore. Do you think there’s still any stock left in the house? I really want to go back and take a bite."
"Probably not… It’s been a long time since any shipments arrived from the city. The reserves are likely exhausted. A lot of the brothers can barely hold back anymore. Everyone’s waiting for the master to complete his advancement so we can finally feast properly…"
"Ugh… But I can barely hold back now. I wonder if we’ll get lucky and have some poor bastard wander in, like that lost woodcutter last time… Hm? What’s that sound?"
As they spoke, the two guards suddenly heard the sound of hooves and wooden wheels in the distance. Soon after, a carriage with gas lamps appeared from down the road, slowly approaching. The coachman on the driver’s seat wore an anxious expression.
"Hey! You two gentlemen up ahead! Can you tell me how to get to Igwynt? Sorry, we got lost!"
Well, well… speak of the devil.
Seeing the coachman waving from atop the carriage, the two guards exchanged glances, licked their lips, and approached with friendly smiles.
"Oh… Bad luck for you, friend. Igwynt is still far away, and it’s already dark. Why don’t you stay here for the night and continue your journey in the morning?"
"Really? That’s terrible news. If that’s the case, I guess I’ll have to trouble you two to take us somewhere to rest."
As he spoke, the coachman hopped off the carriage and began chatting with the guards, asking for details. Just as the guards’ attention was drawn to him, a figure silently emerged from the darkness behind one of them. A knife flashed—one hand covered the guard’s mouth, while the other slit his throat.
The other guard turned in shock, only for the coachman to suddenly lunge forward, gripping his mouth and plunging a prepared dagger swiftly into his throat.
In the end, the two guards collapsed to the ground, eyes wide in disbelief. Standing over them were Edrick and Brandon, their expressions cold and detached.
Soon, the bleeding from the guards’ necks stopped unnaturally fast. Their shocked faces turned emotionless, and they silently stood back up. The coachman, Edrick, rummaged through his coat and pulled out a small jar, tossing it to one of the reanimated guards. The guard caught it and opened the lid, revealing a flesh-colored paste—some sort of cosmetic substance.
The two guards then took wet cloths from Edrick, wiped the blood from their necks, and applied the paste over their wounds, roughly concealing them. In the dim night, it was nearly impossible to notice anything unusual.
"Alright then, lead the way, you two."
After a brief exchange, Brandon climbed into the carriage, while Edrick returned to the driver’s seat. The two undead guards led the carriage toward the villa.
Before long, they arrived at the courtyard gate. The gatekeeper frowned as he saw them approach and called out.
"Joseph, Ollie, what’s going on here?"
"This is a carriage heading to Igwynt. It’s already dark, so we let them stay here for the night. Open the gate, will you?"
One of the guards stepped forward and spoke to the gatekeeper. As he got closer, he whispered in a hushed voice.
"More lost fools. We’ve got fresh stock."
The gatekeeper’s eyes lit up with excitement. He grinned, clapping the guard on the shoulder.
"Good work! Looks like we’ll get to satisfy our cravings tonight."
As he spoke, he unlocked the gate and gestured for the carriage to pass through.
Watching the carriage roll into the courtyard, the gatekeeper locked the door behind it. Turning back to the guard, he chuckled.
"Make sure to save me a share once you’re done carving them up."
As soon as the gatekeeper turned away, the guard’s eyes turned cold. He took a step forward, drew his knife, and killed the gatekeeper the exact same way he himself had been killed earlier.
Watching the gatekeeper’s body slump into the shadows, the guard shrugged. Then, as the corpse slowly stood back up, he spoke indifferently.
"Come on, let’s go greet the others. Don’t forget your knife—it’s essential for saying hello."
With that, the gatekeeper followed the guard through a side entrance into the courtyard, seeking out isolated or small groups of their "comrades" for a deadly greeting.
Meanwhile, inside the approaching carriage, Dorothy sat calmly beside the anxious nun, continuously expanding the control limit and increasing the number of marionettes under her command.