The streets were packed with people, a dark sea of them, yet they were as silent as a midnight graveyard.
That silence was so heavy it could crush a heartbeat because the priests of the Order were escorting a procession of shackled "fools."
According to the Order of the Deep's doctrine, these people had committed an unforgivable sin: disrespect toward the Sentinel.
Ray came to stand at the bookstore's entrance, leaning against the doorframe, quietly watching the silent procession.
His eyes were calm, but inside, silent waves surged.
Those bound in chains all had hollow gazes, like shells whose souls had been extracted.
Most were young, their once-bright eyes now reduced to ashes.
A few white-haired elderly were interspersed among them, their very steps radiating despair.
The most heartbreaking was the seven- or eight-year-old child at the end of the line, tiny wrists bearing oversized shackles, each step producing a crisp clanking of metal that echoed through the deadened street, a sound that struck every heart.
Though the Order of the Deep always publicly stated that these fools would be sent to pilgrimage ships to embark on their atonement journey only those who truly repented their sins would be allowed to return to Ragunna.
But...
This tradition had continued for generations, yet no one had ever truly seen anyone who had boarded a pilgrimage ship set foot on Ragunna's soil again.
It wasn't that no one noticed the oddity, but that anyone who raised questions would, by the next dawn, find their own name on the pilgrimage ship's manifest.
"Sigh, such a talented writer, Locke... what a shame..."
"For writing a few lines questioning the divine in that knight novel, he was condemned as a heretic."
"But that child... what did he do wrong?"
"Dolly? Just a child's careless words, heard at the wrong time by the wrong people."
"May the Sentinel bless their safe return."
"Safe return? In all these years, have you seen a single person return from a pilgrimage ship?"
"Shh—keep your voice down! If the Order hears you, your name might be on the purge list by tomorrow."
"What has become of our Ragunna..."
Ray stood in the shadow of the bookstore doorway, those murmured conversations drifting into his ears on the wind.
His gaze swept over the chained procession, finally landing on that small figure. He couldn't help but shake his head.
The Order of the Deep of today had long become a puppet of the Leviathan, losing its original faith and its true heart in a fog of power and fear.
If Imperator was as merciful as the legends claimed, why would he inflict divine punishment over a few casual words from mortals?
As for the fate of these "fools"...
He probably didn't need to worry.
Brandt's Fool's Troupe should be ready to receive them.
But to be safe, he should still ask the Second Young Miss to notify the troupe in advance.
Just as Ray was about to pull out his terminal, a particularly conspicuous figure in the crowd caught his eye, a young woman with antlers sprouting from her head, skulking through the procession. Her suspicious behavior naturally drew his attention.
What was she doing?
Ray frowned in confusion, observing the young woman.
Just as he was furrowing his brow, the young woman seemed to sense his gaze.
She paused briefly, then shot him an awkward smile and slipped into an alley behind her.
And she wasn't the only one who had noticed her.
Several priests of the Order exchanged glances before following after her.
Hmm?
Strange. Why were the Church people chasing her?
Was she one of those "fools" too?
He didn't know.
But if that were the case, there was no reason to stand by and do nothing.
He couldn't openly rescue these people from the Order's grasp right now, even if he could cause a scene, turning the entire street upside down.
And then what?
Where would these people with nowhere to run go?
Besides, his current position was somewhat sensitive. He absolutely couldn't cause trouble for the Second Young Miss.
However, if no one was watching, he wouldn't mind disrupting the Order of the Deep's plans, whatever they were plotting.
...
...
The young woman stumbled to a stop before a mottled high wall, her chest heaving.
"Hah... hah... huff... Damn, a dead end."
The antlered young woman's face was flushed. She pressed a hand to her pounding heart and looked up at the gray wall blocking her path.
"Ciaccona Toccata!"
A sharp shout exploded at the mouth of the alley.
She spun around, her antlers nearly hitting the wall.
Three Order of the Deep priests blocked the only exit like dark shadows, their gazes fixed on her.
"In the name of Imperator, you are to be taken to the Penitentiary to face the judgment of the law!"
The lead priest's voice was cold, echoing in the narrow alley, each word heavy as chains.
The young woman called Ciaccona let out a cold snort, a contemptuous sneer curling her lips. "Hmph, I've heard that so many times. But unfortunately, you've never caught me once."
"Just a bit of luck. Look at you now there's no escape."
The lead priest's voice suddenly turned icy.
As his words faded, a strange hum enveloped their bodies, a frequency like tangible sound waves, distorting the air around them.
The next moment, the three priests dissolved and reformed, transforming into three armored forms forged from sound waves and will, the Festival Guardians.
"Come with us back to the Order, and spare yourself the pain."
The priest in front slammed his great sword into the ground, shattering the stone slabs.
Seeing this, Ciaccona couldn't help but feel a headache coming on.
She was a Resonator, but her combat ability was practically zero.
'This is bad.
Am I really going to be caught here today?
Miss Carlotta is still waiting for me... I can't fall here.
Wait, is that light behind them... a person?'
Ciaccona's pupils suddenly contracted. "Watch out behind you!"
"Do you take us for three-year-olds? Such a clumsy trick—"
Before the words finished, a dark shadow swept past like the wind.
The lead priest felt a heavy blow to his back. Before he could even cry out, he was sent flying, slamming hard into the wall behind Ciaccona. His Echo form dissipated instantly, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
"...I told you to watch out." Ciaccona looked at the fallen priest and shrugged helplessly.
"Who!?"
The other two priests spun around, but saw only the empty alley and flickering shadows.
"Who is it?! Show yourself!" one of them shouted, his bluster masking his fear. "We are men of the Order! Do you want to make an enemy of the entire Order of the Deep?!"
Before he finished speaking, a faint rustle came from above.
One priest looked up instinctively
A dark figure was plummeting down like a night owl.
He raised his sword hastily to block, but was a moment too slow.
The figure's hand pressed against his face, slamming him into the ground with tremendous force!
"Ugh—!"
The dull thud of body meeting stone echoed. He went limp without even a struggle.
The last one spun around in panic, barely raising his sword before his footing gave way.
In a blur of motion, he was swept to the ground. Before he could cry out, a heavy fist met his face.
The world shattered into darkness before his eyes.
Ciaccona stood still, blinking.
Cautiously, she raised her hands in surrender and said softly to the dark figure, "Um... I'm not with them."