Chapter 122: CANNON BALL!
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"You’re telling me...that out of more than a hundred sleeper agents and two High Worshipers of my church in that damned Grand Martial City, not a single one even thought of sending any report letting us know of what’s happening? Nothing!?"
"Did my church raise all of those fools for nothing!? I’ll have your heads for this!!"
In some unknown location of the world, hidden underneath an abandoned church, there is a congregation of men in black hooded clothes.
The room was plunged in darkness, lit up only by a few candles at the corners of the room. It was cold down here, but not the freezing kind. It’s the type that sends shivers down the spine and penetrates the soul. There was dread, danger, and something unknown in here that’s either hiding deeper in the pits of darkness or has already covered this entire place.
The hooded man at the center of the altar raged at the others around him. He was so agitated that some of his features became visible beneath his cloak.
A pair of crimson red eyes with veins bulging on his temples. His skin was dry and coarse; his facial skin was flaking off as he spoke and moved. His lips were chapped, his voice was hoarse and sounded ominous, and black veins crawled all over his face, behaving as if it’s a centipede skittering beneath his skin.
"Tch."
"What about the spies in other cities? Don’t tell me they’ve been compromised too?"
"..."
Nobody spoke. They didn’t dare to confirm it because it’s true and it will only anger this person even more.
It’s not their fault, but they’re responsible anyway. They didn’t understand how it happened either. One day, everything was fine; the spies were operating as usual and feeding the church well with resources and intel. Then, all of a sudden, everything went silent.
They’ve been trying to reach their spies; even a single one would do, but none of their efforts succeeded. They didn’t receive any reply at all. It’s as if all of a sudden, every single one of their spies and contact just suddenly disappeared.
"Really!? Nothing?"
"What the hell are we supposed to do now?"
"Don’t you all realize how bad this is!?"
"We’re so close! So close to the day of retribution! We could almost smell it!!!"
"How did we go from being so close to being so far in a span of days!!? That doesn’t make sense!"
The man continued raging, and the others let him berate them as he pleased. They can’t do anything about it anyway...at least, not without risking their own lives for it.
To be fair, the man had the right to be mad. He’s one of the leaders of this operation. He’s a priest and was entrusted to do his part for the grand plan of their church.
Everything went well for the most part. They’ve accounted for everything; they even took advantage of the Martial Gods practically staying away from home to lay down the foundations of their plan.
Yet, just as they’re nearing completion, suddenly, this happened.
By now, it’s pretty much confirmed that their agents had been compromised. Why else would they suddenly go MIA out of all times?
And this is bad, because not only were the spies sent there to be on the lookout while the cult continues their work, they’re also responsible for securing additional resources for the cult. Meaning that they’re relying on the spies to send them food and supplies.
This operation was massive, and it drained the church of pretty much everything they’ve accumulated for the past decade. They didn’t hold back in spending at all; they even stopped paying their people so that the plan could keep going.
This was the church’s extreme gambit. A lot was riding on this. That’s why the spies they sent out were very crucial for their survival.
And now, all of sudden, without any warnings or foretelling, they’ve been compromised? Every single one of their spies they scattered across the human civilization?
How could they be fine with that? Matter of fact, how was that even possible?
"So it’s true, then. They did discover our spies."
"Cardinal Miles!" The man who had been raging earlier was startled at the emergence of another voice, but he recognized its owner and immediately knelt down in respect.
Of course, the rest followed suit.
The man who just arrived, Cardinal Miles—as he was cold—didn’t bother hiding his features with a hooded cloak. He was a blond man with delicate features and seductive red wine eyes, but his pupils were weird because they’re the shape of a holy cross—the fact that brought him into the church to begin with.
He was wearing pristine white clothes with golden linings and embroidery. Despite the room being dark, his presence stood out as if darkness itself couldn’t swallow his radiance.
Cardinal Miles was flanked by two people, but unlike him, their features couldn’t be seen at all. Beneath the cloaks that hid their features in this dark environment, they also wore a plain black mask that covered their entire face. There weren’t even holes in them for them to see or breathe through. These two stayed five steps behind the cardinal, almost looking as if they were his shadows instead.
"Rise, Father John. I don’t blame you or your men for this. Our Lord sees all, and he saw how devoted you were to our cause. He is aware of your hard work and doesn’t blame you for this failure at all."
"It is strange circumstances that led to this outcome, one that not even we—the Cardinals, nor the Pope himself—was able to predict."
"If there’s anybody who should feel ashamed, it should be us. Not you. This is our fault."
"No, no, no!" Father John hurriedly raised his head, sounding frantic. His eyes were now drenched in tears and snot, as if the very idea that a Cardinal apologizing to him personally felt like life’s worst blasphemy.
"I don’t dare. We don’t dare! How can we possibly blame you or His Holiness for this? It’s us who’s at fault; this is our duty, and we’ve been neglectful! We could’ve done more! Seized more opportunities! This failure is not a blemish to you, dear Cardinal, nor would it be for His Holiness; it is us who should repent!"
There’s a weird vibe here. One that only a few of those who didn’t dare to speak could capture.
Father John was almost prostrating before the cardinal, and the cardinal had that glint in his eyes that borders between his usual ease and sadistic pleasure.
But even though some noticed this strangeness, nobody dares to say a word. They wouldn’t even if they were given ten times the audacity to do so.
"Let’s not dwell on this any longer than necessary, Father John. Instead of figuring out who to blame, we should think about how to fix this situation instead."
"The Grand Retribution is our church’s most important mission. It has been established to grant salvation to our lost lambs and deliver the kingdom of our god to mankind!"
"We’ve come so far, and that is thanks to your help, Father John. This isn’t a mere accident anymore. Even I am taking this personally for your sake as well. Worry not, my fellow Cardinals, and His Holiness himself supports this too."
"Oh! Oh! I am blessed! I am honored! I am awed by the light and offer my deepest and sincerest gratitude to our lord and savior! To his holiness, the Pope! To you, dear Cardinals! And—"
"CANNON BAAAAAALLLLLL!!!!!"
BOOM!!!
The entire site shone fiercely. That explosion wiped out the ruins of the abandoned church above them and exposed this hidden area.
Now, under the gloomy sky of this world, the damning site of the dark underground could be seen clearly.
The most obvious thing at first glance was the sight of a bunch of tall crucifixes with still living and breathing people crucified in them, naked as the day they were born.
Some were male; most were female. All of them were bald and covered with wounds and cuts, which are still bleeding profusely. They were groaning in pain and misery with clouded eyes and gagged mouths.
There was chalice atop of a dais in the middle where their blood flow. It’s been ruined now by the recent collapse.
The stench of blood and sinful air escaped the dark and containment of the underground after what happened, slightly purifying the air.
That collapse took out at least 70% of the hooded people. The Cardinal was safe, protected by his two bodyguards who swiftly arrived by his side at the first sign of danger and erected a shield, making him untouchable.
Cardinal Miles’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the figure responsible for this collapse. The man had a wide and almost feral grin on his face as he sat cross-legged on the ground.
He fell here that way, by the way.
But the most important part is that this man was no stranger to the Cardinal Miles; he could recognize the bloodthirsty aura contained the scent of rivers of blood no matter where he went.
"What is the Crimson Cataclysm Tyrant doing here!?"
