As dusk settled, Monet led three hundred subordinates to the eastern region—the very place Qin Yu had mentioned where Saintess Daisyth might appear.

“Your Grace, we’ve scoured the area. All twelve villages here were destroyed. Not a single soul survived.”

“...”

Monet’s expression tightened. Twelve villages… two to three hundred people each. Over two thousand lives, gone.

“Any clues on who did this?”

“Numerous goblin footprints at the scene.”

“As expected…”

Qin Yu’s warning was right. Goblins were running rampant. Had she not come, no one would’ve known the eastern region had suffered such devastation. The Luminous Theocracy’s influence centered on the southwestern Central Continent; the east was neglected, its presence thin.

“Nearest church?”

“North.”

“Head there first.”

Monet could only hope the church remained untouched.

Night deepened around a lone eastern church.

“Your Excellency! Goblins—surrounding the church! In huge numbers!” A priest rushed in, flustered.

“Goblins? How dare they attack a sanctuary blessed by the Holy Light!” The elderly bishop rose in fury.

“Your Excellency, we only have two hundred troops. It’s not enough!”

“Do you think I’m dead?!” His voice cracked like a whip, snapping the priest back to sense.

“My apologies… I was too frightened.”

The bishop’s stern face softened. “Prepare for battle.”

“Yes, sir!”

Priests, nuns, and knights mobilized. But the outer patrols were already eliminated. Goblins now advanced with barely alive soldiers and stripped nuns shoved to the front as living shields.

Amid the horde, the Goblin Emperor lounged on his war chariot, chin propped on one hand, watching. Beside him, Daisyth stood motionless, gaze fixed on the church.

The Holy Light she once revered… now, it was her turn to shatter it.

“Your Excellency! They’re using our knights and nuns as shields!”

“Despicable creatures!”

The bishop straightened his robes and strode forth. He’d steeled himself—but the sight ignited fury he couldn’t contain.

“Foul beasts! The Holy Light shall bring divine punishment upon you!”

He raised his staff. A massive white magic circle bloomed beneath his feet, layers surging skyward. Above the goblin ranks, a colossal Holy Light sigil formed.

Though only Rank Six, this bishop was no ordinary cleric—like the late Blood Bishop Ranava, an elite boss. Only such strength warranted leading a regional church.

“Divine Punishment of Holy Light…”

Daisyth felt a faint, eerie familiarity. An old acquaintance.

Fear rippled through the goblin ranks. Daisyth lifted her staff.

“Divine Punishment!” The bishop slammed his staff down. Lightning coiled in the sigil, ready to strike.

“Shatter!”

Violet lightning erupted from Daisyth’s staff—

Crack!

The sigil shattered. Blood sprayed from the bishop’s mouth. He staggered, staff the only thing keeping him upright.

“Your Excellency!”

“How…? Among goblins… someone who saw through my spell…”

He’d aimed to rally his side, crush enemy morale. Instead, backlash wounded him gravely. Such a spell demanded multiple bishops; solo casting meant bearing all consequences. Healing magic offered only fleeting relief.

Night thickened. Goblins pressed closer. Church defenders hesitated—their fallen comrades stood between them and battle. That hesitation became their weakness. The wounded bishop and newly arrived clergy retreated inside. Battle cries outside grew fainter… then silent.

“Your Excellency, what do we do?!” New priests and nuns wept. Surrounded. No rescue. Capture by goblins meant a fate worse than death.

“No! I won’t let those damned goblins take me!” One nun raised her sword to her neck. Crimson splashed the white walls.

“No!” The bishop looked away, eyes shut tight. Others collapsed in terror. Outside, the last knight fell.

Silence.

Bang!

The church doors burst open. A figure stood silhouetted in moonlight, clad in a tight black nun’s habit. She seemed holy—yet the fabric traced elegant curves, radiating quiet allure. For a heartbeat, hope flickered: reinforcements?

The bishop’s vision blurred. He couldn’t make her out.

She stepped forward. Clergy rose to greet her—then goblins flooded in behind her.

The world went mute. Screams faded. His gaze locked on the familiar silhouette slowly approaching.

“You are…”

Her face came into view. His eyes widened.

“Long time no see, teacher…”

Daisyth raised her staff, aiming at the barely conscious bishop…

Next morning, outside the church.

Monet and her troops arrived—to ruins.

“How could this happen…”

A devout follower of the Holy Light, grief and fury surged within her. Inside, she found the bishop’s body.

Slowly, she knelt. Gently closed his eyes.

“Report this to the Theocracy immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Monet rose, gaze lifting to the broken cross atop the church. She stood motionless, silent, beneath the dawn sky.