Chapter 53 : Chapter 53
Chapter 53: The Saint’s Game
Grayrock Town—now the “White Bone Temple.”
Elizabeth stood barefoot on the cold obsidian floor, looking down upon her “masterpiece.”
Rows of skeleton archers kept tireless watch from atop the walls.
On the streets, lumbering corpses were driven by Silent Apostles wielding bone whips, digging and hauling without pause. This place was a death factory running at peak efficiency.
“Your Holiness.”
Marcus knelt on one knee behind her, his voice like a broken bellows.
“The soul harvest has been completed.”
“Three knights made their final stand. I stitched their remains into a new ‘Abomination.’ It will become your most loyal guard dog.”
“Well done, Marcus.”
Elizabeth did not turn around. Her voice was cool and detached.
“But numbers are not everything.”
“What I want is quality.”
“Is there any news of Caesar Valerius?”
A flash of jealousy crossed Marcus’s face.
“Your Holiness, forgive my bluntness, but he is only a mortal with a bit of petty cleverness.”
“At a single word from you, I would gladly lead my children there and bring that castle of sand—and his interesting soul as well—back to you!”
“Foolish.”
Elizabeth turned around, her unfathomable black eyes settling quietly upon him.
Marcus instantly fell silent, as though some colossal beast from the deepest abyss had fixed its gaze upon him.
“Marcus, you must understand.”
Elizabeth slowly walked up to him and extended a pale hand, lightly tracing the savage stitches across his face.
“To conquer a man’s body and force him to kneel—that is a butcher’s work.”
“What I want is to conquer his soul, so that he will willingly stand beside me atop this world.”
A missionary’s fervor gleamed in her eyes.
“Caesar Valerius is like the finest spirited stallion.”
“If you lash it with a whip, it will only resist unto death.”
“But if, when it is at its thirstiest, you offer it a handful of sweet spring water… if, when it is surrounded by wolves, you shield it from their fangs…”
“Then it will lower its proud head of its own accord.”
Elizabeth walked to the edge of the temple and looked north.
“Grayrock Town is only an ‘appetizer’ I prepared for him.”
“I showed him how ‘efficient’ the power of death can be. And now, all I need to do is wait.”
“Wait?”
“Yes, wait.”
The smile at Elizabeth’s lips deepened further.
“Wait for those assassins, wait for this winter’s blizzards, wait for the coming beast tide.”
“When he realizes how fragile those soldiers of his are—those soldiers who bleed, tire, and feel fear—when faced with a natural calamity… then he will remember me, and he will remember that I possess an undead army that fears no cold, knows no exhaustion, and offers absolute loyalty.”
“When that time comes, he will invite us himself.”
“And that… will be a truly perfect conquest.”
Just then, a Silent Apostle responsible for keeping watch appeared like a ghost and presented a skull that still retained a trace of warmth.
Marcus took it and sent his mental power inside. His expression immediately turned grave.
“Your Holiness, the Fetid Eye Outpost, thirty miles east, has gone silent.”
“Oh?”
“The last image transmitted from the outpost was a field of golden light… enough to purify everything.”
The smile on Elizabeth’s face slowly faded at last.
She took the skull, and a thread-thin wisp of deathly mist drilled into it.
A moment later, she withdrew her hand. A light flashed in her eyes, mingling coldness with excitement.
“Holy Light… people from the Church.”
She murmured softly to herself.
“How interesting. Truly interesting.”
“I thought I would need to wait a while longer. I didn’t expect the first wolf to arrive so soon.”
Not only was she not angry, she actually laughed. The sound was crisp, yet enough to make one’s blood run cold.
“Marcus.”
“Your servant is here!”
“Pass the order. Pull back all outer sentries. Call all the children back. We must prepare a grand welcome ceremony… for our guests who have come from afar.”
“And also…”
Elizabeth turned to the north, the curve of her lips growing meaningful.
“Send a messenger to visit our Lord Caesar.”
She paused, then added,
“Choose one with a bit of brains. Don’t have him get his head chopped off the moment he arrives.”
“Tell him he has new neighbors.”
“A group of neighbors… even less reasonable than I am.”
…
At the same time—
On the towering black stone walls of the City of Miracles.
Caesar Valerius stood against the wind, his deep violet eyes sweeping across the endless wasteland.
Behind him, Roland stood in silence like an iron tower.
Their city was expanding at astonishing speed. Houses rose one after another, and in the newly reclaimed fields, green shoots fought stubbornly against the cold wind.
Everything was flourishing.
Yet there was not the slightest joy on Caesar’s face.
His gaze was fixed in two directions.
To the south, a staggering figure was drawing nearer and nearer.
Its gait was unsteady, as though it might collapse at any moment. At first glance, it looked like nothing more than an ordinary refugee.
But Caesar’s God’s Eye told him that thing did not possess even the slightest trace of life.
And on the far eastern horizon, a thread-thin but perfectly straight column of black smoke was curling into the sky, like the campfire signal of some colossal force.
A messenger from the kingdom of the dead.
And a powerful army of unknown origin—disciplined, orderly, and making no attempt whatsoever to conceal its presence.
Caesar withdrew his gaze, and a cold smile curled at the corner of his lips.
He turned to Roland. His voice was so calm that not the slightest ripple could be heard in it.
“Roland.”
“It seems our party is about to become a little crowded.”