The grand halls of Valmerith Cathedral were suffocating with silence.
No sermons echoed.
No chants rose.
Only the murmurs of fear.
The gilded saints carved along the marble walls looked down with lifeless eyes, their painted gazes unable to save the trembling clergy.
At the center of it all sat High Priest Gregorin, fingers clenched around the arms of his ceremonial throne, his knuckles white as bone.
The cracks were spreading.
The Royal Alliance hesitated.
The nobles whispered.
The faithful doubted.
Everything the Church had ruled for generations—its divine authority, its control over law and soul—was beginning to rot.
"This is not mere rumor," Gregorin hissed. "This is precision."
It wasn't panic. It was a predator's recognition of another predator.
Someone was orchestrating this.
Weaving falsehood into truth.
Turning virtue into poison.
"A shadow behind the curtain," Gregorin muttered, standing. "A hand shaping doubt into doctrine."
He scanned the chamber. Dozens of priests and holy knights stood beneath the stained glass light, uncertain.
"We do not strike." His voice rang cold and calculated. "We summon salvation."
Whispers rippled—then fell into silence.
At the center of the room, a kneeling figure in silver armor rose slowly.
The Hero.
His armor shone with divine etchings, glowing faintly with celestial magic. His gaze was unwavering. Blue eyes like sharpened sky.
"You've been silent long enough," Gregorin said. "It's time they remember why you were chosen."
The Hero lifted his head. "I will burn the heresy from their hearts."
Gregorin smiled.
"Then go, Holy Blade of Eternia. Show them what it means to defy the divine."
Across the city, Kael read the sealed report and leaned back in his velvet chair.
"Perfect," he murmured.
Evelyne stood beside him, arms crossed. "You expected this?"
"Expected?" Kael smiled. "I crafted this."
Everything had led to this moment.
The public unrest. The whispers in the street. The heretics selected. The blood prearranged.
The Church had been cornered—and now, they would release their wild dog.
"Are you going to kill him?" Evelyne asked.
Kael chuckled. "Kill the Hero? Not yet."
"Then what?"
Kael's eyes gleamed.
"I'm going to turn him into a villain."
The central square overflowed with onlookers.
The Hero stood on the white-marble platform like a divine judgment made flesh. Silver light bathed him from the twin suns above.
Before him—the accused.
A man and woman in torn clothes, chained like beasts.
Two "heretics" who had spoken out against the Church.
The Hero raised his sword. His voice cut through the air like a blade.
"By divine will, you are judged guilty. Do you have final words?"
The man trembled. "We only spoke the truth."
The woman's voice was clear. "The gods don't punish questions. Only tyrants do."
A murmur swept through the crowd.
The Hero's grip faltered for the briefest second.
Then:
"Then let justice be done."
Steel flashed.
Two bodies collapsed. Blood spilled. Silence reigned.
Until—
"Monster!"
A cry.
Then another.
"This isn't justice!"
"He slaughtered them!"
The Hero looked around, stunned.
This was supposed to prove the Church's holiness. This was a divine rite.
So why—
Then he saw it.
A blood-painted sigil beneath the bodies.
Twisting, ancient. A forbidden symbol of the Old Abyss.
"A curse—!" one priest screamed.
"This was a ritual!" another shouted.
The realization spread like wildfire.
The Hero's sword had completed a heretical rite.
And the people had seen it.
"He's been corrupted!"
"Kill him!"
"Heretic!"
Panic.
And from a hidden rooftop, Kael watched the chaos unfold like a conductor savoring the crescendo of a symphony.
"He played his role perfectly," Kael whispered.
Later, Evelyne stood with him in the shadows, watching soldiers try to regain order.
"You made him commit sacrilege," she said. "And framed him for it."
"No," Kael replied. "I made him prove the Church is willing to kill truth to protect itself."
"He'll be hunted now."
"Good."
Kael turned to her.
"Tonight, send word to the nobles. Tell them their holy protector is losing control."
Evelyne narrowed her eyes. "You're making them question the Church itself."
"I'm not making them do anything," Kael said. "I'm giving them a reason to think."
He looked toward the distant Cathedral.
"The Hero has begun his descent. And soon... when there's nothing left but ashes…"
He smiled.
"He'll come crawling back—to me."
To Be Continued...