Outside the monastery, on the blizzard-ravaged snowy plains, an armored snow beast stopped in front of the monastery doors.
The creature stood nearly two meters tall, its back covered in a thick layer of white fur to ward off the cold. Long hair covered its eyes, and four massive claws dug deep into the snow. Its lower tusks jutted upward, and thick plumes of white steam billowed from its wide maw with every breath.
Sitting steadily on the back of the snow beast was a woman with a straight, tall posture.
She wore dark armor with broad shoulders, and an exaggeratedly styled long blade hung from her waist.
She swept her gaze over Grey Dove Monastery from her high vantage point, her brow furrowing deeper and deeper.
The holy lanterns had been extinguished, the resentment had gone berserk, and most crucially, the surrounding protective magic arrays had been completely shattered.
An extremely unsettling aura permeated the air.
Before long, an armored subordinate ran over, kicking up snow, and knelt on one knee.
“Officer Vevran, the Quiet Bone Prayer Room has mostly collapsed. The Mooncrown Lock is gone.”
Vevran's eyes darkened, a sudden chill erupting from her entire body.
The subordinate swallowed hard, trembling under her pressure as he continued his report.
“We only found... only found the remains of Lord Silver Robe's clothing and his broken staff on the ground. As for the lord himself, he's gone...”
The surrounding wind and snow seemed to fall into a dead silence at that moment.
The Silver-Robed Inquisitor was a clergyman stationed in this region by the Holy Court, specifically responsible for supervising and appeasing the believers.
Now, the Silver Robe was suspected dead, and the Holy Court's vital holy artifact, the Mooncrown Lock, was missing.
Vevran's fingers tightened around the beast's reins, veins bulging on her hands.
Before she could fully digest this shocking news, another subordinate came scrambling through the snow from the other side.
“Officer! Something happened to the vault as well.”
Vevran cast a cold, sideways glance at him. Feeling the oppressive pressure radiating from his superior, the subordinate stammered:
“One... one of the three core vaults... has been almost... almost completely cleaned out.”
Vevran fell silent for a moment, her face darkening completely.
Grey Dove Monastery was destroyed, the Mooncrown Lock was missing, the Silver-Robed Inquisitor was suspected dead, and the vault had been looted.
This was no longer a common heretical attack.
This was someone slapping the Holy Court in the face in broad daylight, and then casually snatching the purse from its waist on the way out.
Although she was loyal to the crown, she wouldn't show bias due to personal feelings.
After all, the Holy Court was the highest religious authority of the Holy Capital Kingdom, protected by the God of Holy Radiance.
On these snowy plains, the common people knelt before the holy emblem, the nobles consecrated the holy lanterns, and the interests of the royal capital and the Holy Court were deeply intertwined.
For so many years, no heretic had ever dared to do such a thing.
Nor had any madman ever possessed the capability to pull off something of this scale.
An extremely ominous premonition suddenly rose in Vevran's heart.
Once this news reached the royal capital, there was no telling how many high-ranking and powerful figures would leap out of bed in shock tonight, completely unable to sleep.
Vevran drove her snow beast into the monastery, the grand entrance easily accommodating the beast's massive frame.
The moment they entered, a hellish scene unfolded before them, with corpses strewn everywhere.
But compared to what she had witnessed on the battlefield, this was far cleaner.
Vevran's gaze swept over the extinguished holy lanterns and the shattered defensive array runes, finding this entire disturbance increasingly bizarre.
She suddenly raised her hand, pointing at a monk slumped in the snow not far away.
The monk's white robe was filthy with dust and blood. His face was deathly pale, and he was shivering like a leaf while muttering prayers under his breath.
“Bring him here.”
Two knights immediately dragged the monk before the snow beast.
The monk's legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees with a thud.
Vevran looked down at him, her voice freezing.
“Start from the beginning.”
The monk's lips trembled. “I... I don't know, I really don't know anything...”
Vevran's gaze darkened.
As if sensing her impatience, the snow beast suddenly lowered its head, its sharp white tusks almost pressing against the monk's face.
The monk shrieked in terror on the spot, nearly fainting.
Vevran said coldly, “I don't like listening to nonsense.”
The monk's teeth chattered as he kowtowed frantically.
“I'll speak! I'll speak!”
He raised his head tremblingly, his eyes darting around wildly, looking as though he had yet to recover from the horrific disaster.
“Today... today, the Discipline Office captured a Northern Witch Hunter.”
Vevran frowned slightly. “His name.”
“It seemed to be... Her... Herwin Hartmann.” The monk's voice cracked. “Yes! It was Herwin Hartmann!”
The faces of the surrounding knights changed simultaneously.
Herwin Hartmann.
This name was not unfamiliar on the northern border.
He was no ordinary witch hunter.
He had captured many Holy Court spies and led several ambushes on secret transport convoys.
The Holy Court and the North maintained a facade of restraint, but the shadow war on the border had never ceased.
Vevran's fingers tightened slightly on the reins.
“Go on.”
The monk swallowed hard.
“The Discipline Office was originally going to interrogate him, but then something suddenly happened in the Lamp-Lighting Room.”
“The Lamp-Lighting Room?”
“Yes.” The monk trembled even harder. “We found several corpses in the Lamp-Lighting Room. The place was in utter chaos, and even several of the holy lanterns were extinguished... This... this isn't my fault... I haven't been here very long, please, may the Holy Radiance forgive me...”
The monk's voice broke into a sob as he buried his face in his hands, praying incessantly.
Vevran grew somewhat impatient. She despised weepy people the most, especially men.
She averted her eyes in disgust and barked, “Keep talking!”
Startled, the monk choked back his tears and continued:
“Later, something happened in the baptismal chamber as well. Lord Hill, who was in charge of baptisms, was killed, and his pass went missing. We thought people from the Black Tower had actually infiltrated, so we began locking down all the corridors.”
Upon hearing the words “Black Tower,” Vevran let out a cold snort.
Those pests truly never gave up.
“Is there more?”
The monk's shoulders shook. “There... there was a swordsman who appeared out of nowhere. She was very strong, holding a holy sword, and she rescued Herwin Hartmann.”
Vevran finally narrowed her eyes.
“A swordsman?”
“Yes, she's a Descender.” The monk added hastily, “She spoke very strangely, like those people from the other world. She didn't just take Herwin; she also took another witch hunter.”
Vevran asked coldly, “Who was the other one?”
The monk thought for a moment, his voice growing even quieter.
“I... I don't know.”
Herwin, his subordinate, and a Descender who could wield a holy sword.
The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place.
The monk was still trembling, wiping his nose. “And then... then the underground exploded...”
“Enough!” Vevran cut him off with a crack of her whip. “I will investigate the rest myself.”
Vevran raised her hand, and the knights immediately dragged the monk away.
The monk slumped on the snow, still muttering fragmented prayers.
Vevran distanced herself slightly; she disliked hearing such useless babbling.
Calming her mind, Vevran looked up at the darkening sky, quickly analyzing the situation in her head:
Herwin Hartmann was wounded, and his subordinate had only just been rescued from the Lamp-Lighting Room. The area around the monastery was laden with traps, so they couldn't have fled too quickly.
As for the Black Tower... Hmph, just a pack of rats in the gutter.
The wind and snow whipped against the edges of her armor. She yanked the reins, and the snow beast beneath her let out a low growl as it spun half a turn.
Vevran looked back at her soldiers, her voice rising above the howling wind:
“Squad One, pursue along the corpse-transport path. The witch hunters are most likely to retreat from there.”
“Squad Two, lock down the old bridge and the northern slope.”
“Squad Three, follow me.”
She rode her snow beast slowly past the front of the formation, her sharp gaze sweeping over every face.
“Whoever captures the targets alive will be granted three days of leave.”
The soldiers' expressions jolted.
Vevran paused, then raised her voice, declaring generously:
“I'll cover the tab for the drinks and lodging in Hot Spring Town.”
“Do you all understand?”
The soldiers' eyes, which had been somewhat weary, instantly lit up. They slammed their fists against their chests in unison.
“Yes, ma'am!”
Warhorses neighed, snow beasts growled, and the squads quickly dispersed, plunging into the blizzard in different directions.
Vevran patted the neck of her snow beast, her lips curving upward.
“Beo, you want to go to Hot Spring Town too, don't you?”
A low growl rumbled in Beo's throat, and he scraped at the snow with his four claws as if telling her to cut the chatter.
Vevran's smile deepened.
“Very well.”
She yanked the reins, and Beo's massive body surged forward, kicking up a great cloud of snow.
“Then let's bring them back!”
The knights behind her immediately followed.
The blizzard quickly swallowed their figures, leaving only the dull thud of iron hooves and beast claws crushing the snow-covered plains, chasing deep into the snowy forest.
Rate on N.U.
