Chapter 64 : Holy Light Thanksgiving Day, the Distraught Owen and His Men
Chapter 64: Holy Light Thanksgiving Day, the Distraught Owen and His Men
The Angel had departed.
A great battle had finally drawn to an end.
In the central plaza of Oak Town, the smoke of war had yet to disperse.
The scent of blood mingled with scorched earth, drifting in the air.
Yet the plaza was filled with the vitality of survivors, a fervent, almost fanatical vigor!
Countless people crowded together, exhaustion and joy written across their faces.
They waved anything they could find broken weapons, filthy hats, or even just their fists!
And they roared with all their might, their cheers echoing like thunder!
“We won! We survived!”
“Long live the Angel! Eternal be the Holy Light!”
“Long live Oak Town!”
And for Oak Town—especially for Old John and Gregor it was undoubtedly a great victory!
With less than one-tenth of their men lost, they had annihilated an Undead Legion nearly three times their size.
If that was not a great victory, what was?
Once word spread, it would surely shake the entire Violet Empire!
For they had achieved what was perhaps the most miraculous triumph in all the wars mankind had fought against the Undead Scourge!
Old John stood atop a raised platform.
His plump body trembled with excitement, his face flushed as if he had just downed an entire barrel of wine.
Looking out at the hopeful crowd below, his heart swelled with emotion and with immense satisfaction, and a soaring ambition that nearly burst from his chest.
“This is all thanks to the Angel’s divine power~” he murmured softly.
That heartfelt piety and gratitude were utterly genuine.
And the title of Earl seemed to be beckoning to him, almost within reach.
At last, Old John took a deep breath.
Suppressing the tide of emotions within, he raised both arms high.
The roaring crowd gradually quieted.
Countless eyes fixed upon him with a glimmer of trust that had never been there before!
“People of Oak Town!”
With the aid of a magical device, Old John’s loud and powerful voice carried across every corner of the plaza.
“Today, we have walked through hell together, and together we have witnessed a miracle!”
“Under the protection of the Angel, we have fought with flesh and blood against the filth and successfully defended our homeland!”
“This is the glory of Oak Town—and the glory of every one of us!”
Old John solemnly proclaimed:
“To remember the grace of the Angel, to celebrate this great victory, and to give thanks to the Holy Light for granting us new life—”
“I, Baron John Lukvido, Lord of Oak Town, hereby declare—”
“That the last day of the year 2087 of the Violet Empire, and of every year henceforth, shall be known as ‘Holy Light Thanksgiving Day’!”
The crowd froze.
Then an even greater cheer erupted, the sound soaring to the heavens!
From that day on, Holy Light Thanksgiving Day became the grandest festival of Oak Town.
The entire city rested for seven days, and the wealthy district was opened to all townsfolk.
As in the previous event, a grand celebration was held.
There were countless games and generous rewards, freely distributed to every resident of Oak Town.
Most importantly, at the climax of the festival, a magnificent charity banquet would continue to be held in gratitude for the Angel’s sacrifice and protection!
Holy Light Thanksgiving Day—
thus became Oak Town’s most important annual tradition!
It was worth noting the Violet Empire had no concept of a “New Year.”
Only on June 18 each year, the Empire’s Founding Day, would there be a holiday and military parades across the capital.
But that kind of festivity was limited to Holy Saint Anna, the capital itself.
It had nothing to do with a small rural town like Oak Town.
So, at this announcement, everyone cheered raising both hands and feet in approval!
After all, such a hard-fought victory needed a grand celebration to banish the lingering fear and to look forward to the future, rebuilding their homes from the ruins.
This Holy Light Thanksgiving Day was perfectly timed and deeply cherished.
“Praise be to the Angel!”
“Long live the Lord!”
“Long live Holy Light Thanksgiving Day!”
Cheering resounded in waves.
People embraced and wept, celebrating their hard-won victory and newfound life.
However—
joy was not something shared equally among all.
At the edge of the plaza, Owen and his men sat collapsed on the cold, damp ground.
Their faces were ashen, their eyes hollow.
They stood in stark contrast to the jubilant uproar ahead.
All that had happened earlier—they had seen it all with their own eyes.
They had witnessed the Angel’s might.
That golden light that tore through darkness, that divine finger that erased Abominations, that Gate of Heaven that purified all things, those scenes were branded deep into their minds!
It was power utterly beyond human comprehension!
Owen’s cracked lips moved, his hoarse voice barely audible: “Were we… wrong?”
“Was Lord Cassius also wrong to ally with the Undead?”
His clouded eyes were filled with confusion.
Because this world had not been swallowed by darkness after all.
There was still a light here—giving hope to mankind…
In life, nothing was more dreadful than a dead heart.
And that was what Owen’s group had become.
Their faith had collapsed, and the goal they had fought for—had been proven false.
An overwhelming sense of absurdity consumed them.
So when the people of Oak Town eventually found them, and captured these traitors—none resisted.
They were like empty shells, allowing the guards to drag, bind, and throw them into the dungeon.
Gregor entered with several personal guards, his face grim.
From above, he looked down on the broken traitors especially their leader, Owen.
In his eyes burned a hatred so deep it twisted into a cruel pleasure.
“Feels awful, doesn’t it? To have everything you worked for overturned in an instant?”
Gregor’s voice was icy, dripping with mockery.
“Don’t worry. That beast Cassius will be joining you soon!”
“I’ll personally crush his bones one by one—to mourn the noble dignity I lost!”
Murderous intent flared in his eyes. He gestured to the guards behind him.
“Send them on their way! No point wasting rations!”
The guards immediately drew their swords, cold light flashing.
“Wait!”
A calm voice sounded from the dungeon entrance.
Priest Colin entered, accompanied by Daniels.
Gregor frowned slightly. “Priest Colin, are you stopping me? These traitors deserve death!”
Colin walked up beside him and patted his shoulder.
“Lord Gregor, I understand your anger.”
“But killing them now—while satisfying—would not be wise.”
He looked toward the traitors awaiting execution.
“Keeping them alive will serve as the most direct and powerful evidence of Cassius Morgan’s collusion with the Undead.”
“Submitting them and their confessions to the Empire’s high council will utterly seal Cassius’s fate—ensuring he never rises again!”
“Otherwise, with only your letter or our Oak Town’s testimony, even if the Empire believed us, they would still send investigators.”
“That would take time—and introduce needless uncertainty.”
“With these living traitors and their testimonies, we can skip the investigations and go straight to judgment.”
“The Imperial Army’s march upon Williams City is but a matter of days!”
Gregor found Colin’s reasoning sound.
He snorted coldly at Owen and the others. “Fine! Then live a few days longer!”