Chapter 241: The Holy Land of Ferderica
Riltara dropped to her knees, her strength fleeing as the reality of what was about to happen crashed over her. She clasped her hands together, the gesture half a prayer, half a plea—only to hesitate, her hands trembling in midair.
Who am I supposed to pray to now? Riltara wondered. That question echoed through the void in her heart. In this moment of disaster, she realized she no longer had a god to turn to. A bitter, hopeless laugh slipped out of her.
“You...!” The Saint, standing by the shattered altar, clenched his teeth in fury, his expression twisted with rage and disbelief. “You finally reveal your true colors!”
He shot a fierce glare at Ketal. That glare served as a silent signal. The moment their Saint’s eyes hardened, the ordinary believers broke and fled, panic-stricken. In seconds, all non-combatants vanished from the plaza, replaced by an advancing line of holy knights and armored priests. A ring of steel and magic closed in, shields gleaming and eyes cold.
Ketal let out a low whistle as he surveyed the rapidly tightening circle.
“Efficient. Like they’d been waiting for this exact scenario,” he said with a casual grin.
No doubt, they had. While the priests and knights didn’t truly understand Ketal’s power, they had recognized that he wasn’t just an ordinary traveler. He radiated strength, at the very least, the force of an Advanced fighter, a warrior capable of shaking the world if he chose. Even the genius Aquaz was an Advanced when they met for the first time.
Yet here, the knights had only bothered to bind Ketal in thin chains, nothing he couldn’t break with a flick of his finger. It was almost as if they wanted him to break free, to provide a perfect justification for what was to come.
“Is it the world’s judgement you’re afraid of?” Ketal called to the Saint. “Or do you just want to make it look like I chose to fight, so that when you hand me over as a heretic, it’s justified?”
“Nonsense,” the Saint replied curtly. But there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes, a tremor betraying his unease.
Ketal’s words had hit the mark. The Saint’s plan all along had been to provoke resistance. Then, when the sinner fought back, they’d offer him up to their god with perfect, self-righteous justification.
However, even the Saint was surprised that this barbarian had seen straight through the charade.