The room was gilded and inlaid with gems. In the dim glow of dusk, faint moans rose from the bed draped in purple curtains.
Jeca, a rabbitkin girl, collapsed to her knees, panting, her body exhausted.
Prince AveNolavel stood by the bedside with arms crossed, his gaze icy.
> "What a disappointment. If you can't please me... then your entire race will suffer the consequences.
It was no longer a threat – it was a sentence. He nudged Jeca off the bed with his foot, like brushing aside a broken toy.
At that moment, an older man with silver hair stepped into the room – Neva, the royal family's loyal retainer.
> "I… can no longer turn a blind eye to such treatment of demi-humans – especially the rabbitkin."
AveNolavel shrugged, unconcerned.
> "It's for their own good. If I don't keep them under my eye, do you think they'd survive under noble pressure?"
Neva tilted his head, eyes filled with disgust.
> "If so… then I wish you'd keep your 'eye' off them."
> "Ha… You could always ask for one yourself. Who knows, it might be entertaining." – AveNolavel sneered.
Neva remained silent. The air between them stretched taut like a drawn bowstring.
---
They left the room together, walking down the long corridor toward the main hall. Guards bowed, avoiding the prince's gaze.
> "His Majesty has a message for you. You are to go to the Church." – Neva began.
> "The Church? Those robed saints again?"
> "Because… Hero Mirisu is dead."
AveNolavel halted. His facial muscles twitched slightly.
> "Mirisu… is dead?"
He stood in silence for a few seconds, then clenched his fist slightly.
> "I didn't think he'd fall so easily… But if it's true, the Church and nobles will seize the power vacuum."
> "His Majesty requests you to go first, speak with the Church, and then the two great houses – Deon and Layie."
> "What a bother… I only want to deal with the nobles. The Church… has always cared more about morals than power."
---
At the castle's main gate, the carriage was ready, loaded with wealth and attendants.
AveNolavel climbed in, lifting the curtain for one last glance at the palace.
> "I'm off, Neva."
> "Travel safely, my lord."
---
[Holy Radiant Sanctum – Center of the Supreme Church]
Ivory-white stone pillars rose like the spine of a dead colossus. Golden-tinted light streamed through stained glass windows onto the cold stone floor, bringing no warmth – only adding to the illusion. Amid the pungent scent of incense and the masked stench of dried blood beneath perfumed oil, the air felt frozen.
Footsteps echoed sharply as AveNolavel entered, his black cloak with red trim sweeping the floor like a trail of blood.
At the end of the grand hall sat Pope Larian – a gaunt old man with sunken eyes and skin like parchment, upon a silver throne inlaid with infant bones, a metallic crown on his head and a necklace of baby teeth around his neck.
Behind him stood four Cardinal Priests, their faces hidden beneath white porcelain masks, but their stench betrayed them: bestiality, flesh, and repressed lust masked under consecrated robes.
---
Larian (Pope), voice steady like a sacrificial chant:
> "Prince Avela… You finally appear. Late, but still in time to kneel before the Holy Will."
AveNolavel did not bow. He did not kneel.
He simply stared at Larian, as if looking at a talking corpse.
---
AveNolavel:
> "I did not come to kneel. I came to say… your light has gone out."
The room sank into silence. One Cardinal on the right trembled as if on the verge of a withdrawal fit.
---
Larian:
> "Hero Mirisu was chosen by the Divine. His death… cannot be the Church's fault."
AveNolavel chuckled softly, but his eyes held no amusement.
---
AveNolavel:
> "The Divine? Don't invoke that name to cover up failure. You sent him to the front, stuffed that fake light into his head, and in the end, he died like a stray dog."
A Cardinal burst up, voice trembling with personal insult:
Cardinal:
> "You blaspheme the Divine. You will burn with the heretics!"
AveNolavel didn't respond. His gaze shifted to a small wooden door near the altar, where faint sobbing could be heard – from a child hanging upside down, wrists bound, blood pooling beneath.
---
AveNolavel:
> "If this is how your 'Divine' saves… then I choose Hell."
---
Larian (still calmly):
> "You seem not to understand. Mirisu was a tool, not a man. His death… is merely the beginning for the next vessel."
AveNolavel clenched his fist tighter, but kept his tone even:
---
AveNolavel:
> "If you dare lay a hand on Tia, I will burn every temple in Avela to ashes."
---
Larian (softly chuckling):
> "Too late. She… is already a vessel."
---
A small-built priest beside him let out a high-pitched giggle. His trembling hands raised a glass vial of blood, inside which faint red runes drifted – like shredded fragments of a soul.
---
AveNolavel took half a step back. His expression turned cold.
---
Larian (still composed):
> "We have prepared… for a new age. The marked ones need not be born. We… make them."
---
From afar, children's screams echoed from beneath the sanctum – the place the people called "The Purification Ward," but in truth was a forge for monstrosities. There, the Church bred hundreds of mutilated, stitched, and grafted children – all to raise a hero with no humanity, only obedience.
---
AveNolavel turned away without another word. He walked slowly, but his shoulders were tense – as if suppressing something about to explode.
---
An attendant ran up in a panic:
> "My lord, what about the wealth you brought…"
AveNolavel, voice cold:
> "Give it to them? So they can buy more dead children for sacrifice?"
> "Burn it. Or throw it in the river."
---
Behind him, the radiant stained glass began to turn a sickly red – as though blood had seeped into the soul of the light.