Chapter 82 The Negotiator (Illustration)
Chapter 82 The Negotiator
“Bring them in, Hak” High Priest Austerius commanded.
All eyes turned as the cathedral doors creaked open.
Several demihuman children were ushered in, their small hands bound with rough rope.
Behind them followed a dwarf—chained at both wrists and ankles. His hands had been severed. Cuts and bruises covered his battered frame, and his face was so swollen and bloodied it was nearly unrecognizable.
Blaze gasped.
The children from the corral… Her mind reeled in alarm.
The group was shoved forward by several knights, with Hak leading the charge.
“Move, pests. Lowly creatures,” one of the knights spat, jabbing them with the butt of his spear.
The congregation erupted:
“Animals!”
“Heretics!”
“Devil-borns!”
At last, the prisoners were forced to the altar.
The children stood trembling in a row, eyes wide with terror, while the dwarf was shoved to his knees. Though blind and battered, he seemed to sense the presence of the order’s highest ranks.
In a hoarse, broken voice, he pleaded:
“Please, sir… leave the children alone. They’re innocent. They’ve done nothing. Please…”
He bowed his mutilated head low, blood dripping onto the stone floor.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt them…”
High Priest Austerius looked down at him with cold contempt.
“You dare speak?” he spat.
“You lowly impersonator of man. You beasts mimic our ways, our civility—but you are not like us. It is heresy! Only we—those made in the image of the Creator, the Light One—are true children of this world. The true humans. The rightful owners of this realm!”
The mob roared in answer:
“Kill them!”
“Let them burn in hell!”
“They are beasts—demons!”
The congregation’s voices rose in a storm of hatred.
The children began to cry.
“Sob… sob… Mommy… where are you?”
The dwarf, weeping as well, tried to comfort them.
“Hush now, children… It’ll be okay… Mother Earth will protect you…”
But his sobs betrayed his own fear.
Blaze’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. She was on the verge of tears as she watched the chaos unfold.
Her mind flashed with memories of standing beside them—fighting through many battles in the name of the Dominion.
Regret surged through her thoughts. No… I didn’t. I never hurt any child, she resolved.
We had prisoners… we had children… but this—this is madness, she thought, heart pounding as anger welled up inside her.
Suddenly, Bereket stepped forward, lifting his hands.
“Brothers and sisters,” he said, his voice carrying over the crowd, “the Creator does not desire that we lose our humanity.”
The congregation quieted—just slightly.
Blaze’s rage eased, if only for a moment. Her face softened.
Maybe… maybe he’ll show mercy, she thought, hope flickering in her chest.
But what followed crushed that hope.
Bereket’s voice grew firm, almost solemn.
“I know the grudge we all share. After all, the Scriptures tell us how one of these lowly demons slew the Creator’s other half—our holy mother—leaving the Light One alone, bereft of His divine companion.”
His gaze darkened.
“But justice will be delivered… through me.”
Golden light radiated from his body, wrapping around him like a living flame. His eyes shone like sunfire as he stepped closer.
He placed a hand on the dwarf’s battered, bloodied head, his voice chilling in its calm finality:
“Repent, demon… and accept the Creator’s judgment.”
Then, Bereket began to sing.
A strange, otherworldly chant poured from his lips—
“Cbhfgr… lkvccwwre…”
A wave of divine light erupted from his hand, engulfing the dwarf.
The man shrieked in agony, his body convulsing as searing light tore through him.
“AAAGGHH—!”
He twisted and writhed—then, suddenly, his body crumbled into ash and vanished into the air.
“The Dominion of the Light!”
“The Dominion of the Light!”
“The Dominion of the Light!”
the knights, priests, and congregation chanted in unison.
Then Bereket spoke again.
“Bring the next one.”
Blaze stood frozen, horror written across her face. She shook her head slowly, disbelief and revulsion washing over her. Her hands clenched tightly around the grip of her sword and the rim of her shield.
A knight roughly shoved one of the children forward—a small boy, no older than ten, with two round, furry ears atop his head. He clung desperately to the hand of a slightly older girl beside him, who shared the same features.
“No—! Kael, no!” she cried, throwing her arms around him, trying to shield him.
The knights were merciless. They kicked the siblings forward like livestock.
The girl stumbled, but still threw herself in front of her brother, shielding him with her small body.
Bereket looked down at them, his face devoid of emotion.
“Very well… you shall be judged together.”
Golden light began to glow around him once more. He raised his hand toward the two trembling children.
But someone stopped him.
A collective gasp rippled through the congregation.
“Such disrespect!”
“Heresy!”
“How dare she?!”
The angry cries rose like a wave, echoing through the cathedral.
At the altar, the High Priest’s face twisted in fury.
“What are you doing?!” he roared.
It was Blaze.
She had stepped forward and seized Bereket’s wrist, stopping the divine execution. Her face was calm—but resolute, as though carved from stone. Her eyes shimmered, threatening to spill tears. Her teeth were clenched so tight they almost cracked; rage boiled inside her, barely restrained. Every muscle in her body screamed to attack.
Bereket turned his gaze to her, his voice eerily composed.
“What are you doing, Sister Blaze?”
Blaze stood firm, her voice shaking but unwavering.
“Your Grace Bereket… killing children is not right. No matter their race, no matter where they were born—they’ve done nothing to deserve death. I implore you… please, stop this.”
Her voice trembled, but her stance never faltered.
Her red, shoulder-length hair caught the golden light—its hue almost matching Bereket’s own flowing crimson locks. They looked like mirrored opposites: fire against fire, divided by conviction.
A beat of silence.
Then came the outcry, again.
“Heresy!”
“Blasphemy!”
“How dare she defy the Light?!”
Austerius raised his voice above them all, his rage blistering.
“Hak! Slash! Teach this ungrateful woman why we do not disobey the Creator’s commandments!”
Both knights drew their greatswords and advanced.
But Bereket raised his other hand, halting them without looking away from Blaze.
“Blaze,” he said quietly, his golden eyes locked on hers, “stop this madness. You are supposed to be loyal to the Order… to me…”
His voice faltered, deepening—more human than divine.
“We… I… saved you. You are what you are because of me!”
Blaze stood there without flinching, her eyes sharp with valor and conviction.
The cathedral fell into stunned silence.
Bereket finally blinked, his expression shifting to something almost sorrowful.
“Very well,” he said softly. “I’ll have to hurt you a little… but it’s for your own good.”
Golden light radiated from his body, swirling toward Blaze. It began to envelop her—
“Bereket, just punish her already!” the High Priest barked.
But then—he froze.
A blur. A flicker.
A flash of movement—so fast it was barely visible.
“Your Grace!” several voices cried out, panic cracking through the hall.
Knights and clergy surged forward—but stopped cold as a cold voice cut through the uproar:
“Move, and he dies.”
Every head turned.
Standing directly behind the High Priest was a hooded figure, cloaked in the same colors as the Order. A dagger pressed firmly against Austerius’s throat.
Gasps erupted. Chaos trembled on the edge.
“Your Grace!” shouted Hak and Slash, drawing their weapons, fury blazing in their eyes.
“Nah-ah-aaah…” the hooded man warned, shaking his head side to side. His mouth curled into a sharp, almost playful grin as he pressed the blade closer, drawing a thin red line of blood across the High Priest’s neck.
“I said… don’t move.”
The congregation froze.
For the first time in years, High Priest Austerius looked truly afraid—his body trembling before the very people who once knelt to him.
Blaze and Bereket stared in stunned disbelief.
The intruder—Iryoku—turned slightly, his second dagger flashing as he pointed across the altar.
“You. Holy Hips Redhead over there!”
Blaze blinked, thrown completely off-guard.
What the hell…?
Something in his voice—sharp, cocky, almost mocking—clawed at the back of her mind. It felt too familiar. Too intimate.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The tension was razor-sharp.
Iryoku didn’t blink. His voice rolled out smooth and cold:
“You heard me, bimbo. Grab the kids and move those thick thighs before I decide to open this old man’s throat like a book!”
Then, like a blade drawn in moonlight, his tone hardened:
“If everyone does exactly what this badass says, nobody gets hurt.”
Everyone hesitated—shocked, confused.
Even Bereket stood motionless, watching in silence. His eyes narrowed with growing fury.
“You’re the one from yesterday—the shadow, the spy who attacked Blaze. Are you allied with the demihumans?”
Iryoku turned and flashed him a crooked grin.
“Bingo, kid… or castrato… whatever the hell you are.”
Then he turned back to Blaze.
“Come on,” he said, moving carefully, still holding the High Priest like a shield. “Time’s ticking.”
Austerius finally found his voice, barking through clenched teeth:
“Do not be swayed by this sinner! He is—!”
Shuff!
Iryoku shoved a cloth into the High Priest’s mouth, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“No one wants to hear your sermon right now, old man.”
The room stayed shocked—balanced on a blade’s edge.
Blaze finally moved.
She seized the moment, stepping forward swiftly.
“Let’s go, kids,” she whispered, and with one fluid motion, her sword sliced through the bindings on their wrists.
The children hesitated, wide-eyed and trembling, but then followed her lead. Blaze ushered them toward the great doors of the cathedral, her shield raised protectively.
Iryoku followed close behind, eyes darting across the cathedral. The High Priest was still gripped tightly in front of him like a living shield.
Behind them, both Hak and Slash followed, fury burning in their eyes, greatswords drawn and ready to strike.
“Calm down, Primaris Rejects,” Iryoku warned, voice dripping with mockery. “The Emperor’s Light won’t save him if I twitch.”
The knights hesitated, pausing for a heartbeat. They didn’t get the full insult—but they caught the threat.
Iryoku jabbed a dagger toward one of the nearby priests. “You—open the doors and come with us. Tell everyone to keep their weapons down… or else.”
Trembling, the priestess obeyed. She stepped forward and slowly pushed open the heavy cathedral gates.
“Now, dear people,” Iryoku barked, his tone slipping into something darker, unhinged. “Stop doing stupid shit. Don’t follow us. I promise your Mr. Pope here stays breathing—if you listen. And don’t kill children!”
They stepped out into the city. Most of the townsfolk were still packed inside the cathedral; only a handful of guards patrolled the walls.
“Let’s keep moving, musclehead. Quickly!” Iryoku snapped at Blaze.
She shot him a glare, mildly offended.
What’s with this guy and all the damn nicknames? she thought, but kept pace.
They reached the front gates. Knights waited, bows drawn and crossbows loaded atop the walls.
“Easy now!” Iryoku shouted, pressing the dagger tighter against the High Priest’s throat. “Unless you wanna redecorate the gate with your holy old man’s brains!”
They finally passed through. The massive doors slammed shut behind them—cutting off the cathedral and the swelling mob inside.
But from the courtyard, Bereket and the order’s top knights were already spilling into the streets, weapons drawn and ready.
Iryoku, Blaze, the children, and their hostage hurried across the clearing beyond the city walls, leaving the priestess behind inside the gates.
Iryoku kept the High Priest at the rear of their group, using him like a living shield in case of stray arrows. Sweat ran down his temple—and Blaze’s too—as they neared the forest’s edge.
“Keep moving, kids,” Iryoku urged, his voice low but sharp. “We’re not safe yet.”
They pushed deeper into the woods, feet pounding through brush and mud.
Finally, Blaze spoke—breathless but steady. “Do you know who I am?” Her voice was tight with tension.
“No,” Iryoku shot back without missing a step.
Then he glanced at the High Priest and muttered loud enough for the old man to hear, “I was sent to kill someone. I am Part of the Northern group—Death Tree Knights… I serve Alexander Maxwell… something something…”
Thud.
Without warning, he cracked the priest across the back of the head with the hilt of his dagger. The old man dropped like a sack of bricks.
Now free to speak openly, Iryoku let out a breath.
“Fuu… I was spouting bullshit so this old fart would get the wrong idea.” His tone softened as he looked at Blaze. “Of course I know who you are, Alessandra. But we need to get somewhere safe first. Then we’ll talk.”
They kept moving, cutting through brambles and low branches. After several minutes, the children started to slow, breath ragged.
“Just a bit more—almost there!” Iryoku urged them. “Shit… we need to pick up the pace.”
He lowered the unconscious priest onto the grass, then hoisted the three smallest kids onto his back, fastening them with the harpoon cord. Next, he grabbed two more—one tucked under each arm.
The sight of him was oddly absurd: a hardened killer hauling kids like a makeshift baby carrier.
The last two—Kael and his sister Kima—were gently picked up by Blaze. She dropped her sword, slung her shield onto her back, and cradled them carefully.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” she whispered.
Iryoku shot her a quick nod. “Let’s run.”
But not before stepping over to the unconscious old priest and giving him a quick kick in the balls. Then he kept moving.
He flashed a grin. “Try to keep up, Flare.”
“It’s Blaze,” she snapped back, already sprinting after him into the trees.