“The wicked file the first complaint.” The elder repeated it like a cold bell, then told the Holy Knight at his side, “Don’t waste breath. We go together. We must take him.”

“Alright.” The Holy Knight lifted his greatsword, steel rising like a pale moon.

The elder began gathering high-order magic, a frost-blue halo tightening to keep Alvis from slipping away.

“Hah!” The Holy Knight crouched with his blade, then sprang four meters high. His shout cracked like stone. “Earth-Rending Slash!”

Alvis’s face hardened; lightning braided between his ten fingers, a storm caged in flesh.

Before Alvis could move, a strip of killing sword-qi flew over his head, clean as winter wind, and split the Holy Knight at the waist.

“Ugh!” The Holy Knight fell in two, thudding to earth, dead, eyes wide with disbelief like shattered glass.

“What?!” The elder’s eyes bulged, shock biting like frost.

He surged to rage, readying a spell for Alvis—when a glacial chill rose behind him, like a winter blade laid against his spine.

A silhouette snapped into being at his back.

“What?! Instant Movement?”

Even as he spoke, the shadow flickered. In his peripheral vision, a ribbon of sword-light flashed, bright as dawn on steel.

“Wait—a Swordmaster? A Swordmaster who commands Instant Movement?”

The thought bloomed, and the elder knew—his candle was already snuffed.

As expected, sword-light swept past. The elder’s head parted from his body, and he fell like a kite with its string cut.

Only then did everyone fix their eyes on the newcomer, breath held like ropes drawn tight.

He wore black-and-white armor, a yin-yang of iron, and held a matching black-and-white longsword.

Tall in frame, he had short hair black as ink, crisp as a night horizon.

Alvis saw him and a faint smile rippled across his face, like wind on a still pond.

“You’ve finally returned.”

The man turned, smiling. “Yes. I’m back, Father.”

The newcomer was none other than Lucimia’s second brother—Xiu Lancelot.

Alvis stepped forward and patted his shoulder, palm steady as a mountain. “Well? Did you find it—the cause of your elder brother’s death?”

“Mm. It’s clear.”

“And?”

Xiu lowered his head and pointed his sword at the elder’s body at his feet, the blade a quiet witness.

“The Purification Church—or rather, the Purification Deity, Vosh. I have proof.”

“Ah. Good.” Alvis’s voice was a calm lake, hardly stirred by the answer.

“What happened here? Where’s Lucimia?” Xiu scanned the ruins, gaze circling like a hawk.

Alvis gave a brief explanation, words clipped like oars. Xiu nodded, a quiet bell of understanding.

“In that case, I’ll go find her.” Xiu moved for the door, but Alvis lifted a hand and stopped him.

“Wait. No need to rush.”

“Why?”

Alvis paused, silence thick as mist. “I saw her step into the water by choice. She should have a way to avoid disaster. Let Kaeli track her. Since you’re back, I need you for something else.”

“Mm… fine. What is it?”

“The Church, of course.” Alvis’s tone was granite. “Lucimia may be hunted. Make them busy—so busy they can’t spare focus. And use your evidence to show their true face.”

He lifted his gaze to his home, a faintness in his eyes like smoke. “It seems my wish to become a simple noble won’t come true.”

With that, the two figures flickered and vanished, leaving the remaining Holy Knights and mages stunned, faces blank as uninked paper.

They couldn’t grasp what they’d just heard; their minds were fog, their faith the only lantern.

It made sense; they’d never touch matters like those. They fought on belief, candles burning in shrine wind.

“So… what do we do next?” one Holy Knight asked, voice thin as a reed.

Their speakers were gone; leaderless, like a dragon with no head, they needed direction.

“I think we report everything to the Church, word for word,” a mage suggested. “No holding back, no edits.”

“Agreed. That’s by the book. Follow procedure.”

“I think so too.”

“Me too.”

Agreement spread like ripples across a pond.

“I have another idea.”

A different stance rose like a lone tree in the field.

“Mm? What’s your idea? Say it so we all hear,” the first mage asked.

A Holy Knight stepped forward. “Sorry, but Alvis made sense. What if the Church truly has problems? Reporting could make it worse. I say we do nothing—just say we fought an Evil Entity. Keep it simple.”

The mage frowned, thought a bit, then spoke, words hard as tile. “Do you know what you’re saying? If the Church finds out, the consequences are severe! Don’t forget, your power comes from the Church. I still lean toward them. They truly keep the people from outside pollution.”

The Holy Knight shrugged, shoulders slack as rope, and fell silent.

No one else objected, so the Church team settled their next move like stones clicking into place.

Before they left, the Holy Knight spoke again. “I’m not going. I’ll stay to help the town’s residents. You go ahead.”

At that, several more Holy Knights and mages chose to stay and aid the residents, their resolve a warm hearth.

The rest returned to the Purification Church to report, dust trailing like thin smoke.

…

A few days later, the exorcist squad reached the main Church and reported upward, words carried like sealed letters.

Soon, the Church dispatched an Inquisitor to the Town of Tranquility to investigate, boots whispering over old roads.

No one knew what was done, but they announced to all: the Lancelot Family is steeply polluted, stinking of a Dark Deity’s aura. Final judgment—the Lancelot Family is a Dark Deity family, colluding with other Dark Deities to incite riots.

The ringleader, Lucimia, grew her power during the family’s tenure, secretly killed many civilians, and even abducted the Church’s newly promoted Purification Knight, Desty. Her crimes are monstrous.

The Church classified her as extremely dangerous—a newborn Dark Deity. If encountered, retreat at once.

The others, Alvis and Xiu, were also placed on wanted lists. For intel, capture, or kill—the rewards were high. Many hearts stirred like leaves in a rising wind.

With the warrants issued, the Church formed crusade squads to hunt Lucimia and her followers, even deploying three Inquisitors.

The news spread fast across lands under the Purification Church, debate flaring like brushfire along the roads.

People condemned the family’s evil and thrilled at the Church’s sheltering hand. Faith rose another notch, incense thick in the halls. Many rushed to the Church to pray.

…

Meanwhile, in a void space, a pitch-black silhouette wavered like smoke.

“Mm… Elyssus actually failed? That’s a surprise… When will my shackles break? Why are my chains so tight?”

The shadow fell silent for a while, then muttered, “Lucimia… Devouring… Why does that feel familiar? Who was it? Oh. I remember—the usurper, Olivya.”

“Wasn’t she dead?”

“Mm… I just don’t know which Olivya this Olivya is…”

—

End of Volume One.