Chapter 115: The Cross Painted in Blood Theocracy

“I don’t know where he came from, but I do know that he can make you stronger, make me smarter, help me see the road ahead, and tell me secrets I could never reach.”

“And the price of the deal was my body.”

“He has already devoured me completely, leaving only this head.”

Zezel spoke, and it seemed even his face revealed a trace of pain.

“But it was worth it.”he said.

Darks halted his steps and planted the flag in the ground. They were but a single step away from the border of the Principality of Corlay.

The people who followed behind him also stopped when they saw the flag come to a halt.

Their bodies trembled, as if they might collapse at any moment, yet their eyes still gazed at the flag with reverence—at the man in golden armor beneath it.

Darks held Zezel, turned around, and looked at the shadowed clouds creeping in from afar, veiling the Morning Star’s light.

“Look, you’ve already become their pillar. You are, in their eyes, the manifestation of the Lord in the mortal world.”Zezel smiled, his eyes filled only with the commoners who followed them.

Beneath the distant shadowed clouds, countless werewolves ran. Within those clouds, it seemed a pair of eyes were staring at them.

Darks tightened his grip on the greatsword.

“Do you still remember this greatsword?”Zezel said.”We found it in a church.”

“This greatsword possesses immense power. One must know it, understand it, master it, and finally, earn its name.”

“But the priest who served it is already dead. No one knows what it is anymore.”

“So I made one final deal.”

“This is also the last thing I can do for you.”

“Darks, once you arrive in the Principality of Corlay, seize a territory as quickly as possible, then proclaim the founding of a County.”

“I know you’ve memorized everything I wrote down.”

“You must use what I wrote as the laws of the County, and have the entire nation follow them.”

“You must make the Lord the symbol of this country.”

“You must suppress the nobles within this country and let the shepherds govern it.”

“You must raise the flag we brought high—this is the flag that unites all people.”

“You must become my eyes, and see with them the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth.”

As the voice slowly faded, within the cloth bundle held against Darks’s chest, only a hollow human skin remained.

Darks’s breathing grew heavier. From the two narrow slits of his helmet, like an iron bucket, crimson light seemed to flicker.

Within the shadowed clouds, the Wolf God’s vertical pupils suddenly shrank.

He felt immense fear.

Without hesitation, he abandoned the cloud and the werewolves on the ground, fleeing toward the castle under the searing blaze of the Morning Star.

“Boom”He heard the air hum, and the earth tremble.

Forcing himself to glance back, his eyes instantly burst under the overwhelming scorching power.

He let out a miserable scream. Vaguely, he heard a voice filled with fury.

“Dawn Reversal, Darkness Annihilation, Balmung！”

The shadowed clouds dispersed. A massive fan-shaped crater was carved into the land. After a storm, this place might become a crescent lake.

Darks held the greatsword Balmung with one hand. At this moment, its blade glowed crimson and radiated intense heat.

The commoners’ gazes turned back from the massive crater and looked up at Darks, who stood behind the planted flag.

Slowly, someone let out a cheer.

“Praise the Lord, praise Darks！”

“This is the Lord’s descent！”

“This is the miracle of the Lord, manifested through the Saint’s talent！”

They cheered fervently, their eyes burning with passion. They followed their shepherds and praised with all their hearts.

Suddenly, Darks realized—none of them mentioned Zezel.

Darks remained silent. Then he suddenly turned, pulled out the flag, and swung it forcefully.

The fanatical commoners followed behind him, watching his figure, watching that flag, as if they felt the miracle of the Lord.

Power surged endlessly through their bodies. Under the guidance of the shepherds, they loudly recited the Holy Scriptures.

Perhaps, we were already approaching the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth.

That night, a cold silver light wiped away a baronial fortress.

That night, Darks led over a thousand commoners to establish a nation of their own.

The Cross Painted in Blood Theocracy—this country had no nobles, knights, or gentry, only the Lord’s shepherds.

Church of the Sanctuary, inside the church.

More than ten white doves perched on the wooden cross. These were all generated from the birdcage during this period.

Corleon opened his eyes, looking somewhat weary.

Just now, he had sensed the disappearance of the obscuration over Marquis Demitri’s Territory.

So he swiftly used Revelation to sweep across the marquis’s land.

George was with the nobles clearing out the werewolves. Hode was tracking the whereabouts of an Upper-Ranked Werewolf with two Temple Warriors, as well as the group that had already reached the border, raising the flag of the Cross Painted in Blood.

Compared to George and Hode, the experiences of that other group left Corleon in silent contemplation.

Corleon did not know what the future held for them, nor did he dare to use Revelation to peek into their future. He simply bestowed a Blessing upon them.

Lowering his head to look at the words appearing on the ground—these were contents written by Zezel, recorded through Revelation.

Yet after writing only a few lines, Corleon gave up.

He felt that this act of his would be a desecration to someone who burned themselves for change, someone who tried to change the world.

Corleon wrote a letter using small clipped paper strips.

He rolled the letter into a tube and sealed it inside a wooden tube thinner than a pinky finger.

He raised his hand, and a dove flew down from the cross, landing in his palm.

He tied the letter to the dove’s leg.

“Good child, go find George and deliver this message to him.”

He pressed the dove against his forehead, gave it a mark, and then released it into flight.

He planned to have George handle his affairs first, then proceed to that newly founded nation and seek the writings of Zezel, a man worthy of being called a Saint.

As for the agreement between George and that noble, Corleon could only shake his head helplessly.

“Knight George.”From the shadows untouched by the light of the White Star, a knight greeted George.

Hesitating slightly, George glanced at the banquet hall where the feast was underway but still walked over.

“Knight Julian.”George responded.

“Heh, Knight George is still as dull as ever.”Julian said with a smile, his tone ambiguous—whether mocking or teasing, it was unclear.

“I’m just not used to the atmosphere of such banquets.”George replied.

As he drew closer, George could see the knight clearly in the shadows.

The man’s red beard was vivid even in the dimness, and he wore a luxurious robe like the others at the banquet—except he appeared somewhat bulky.

It wasn’t due to actual fatness but because beneath that robe, he was also wearing a leather armor.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep