An Irresistible Force

On the day Roland was discharged from the hospital, it was Miss Cratof who came to pick him up.

This was also the first time in days that Roland stepped out of his ward.

The interior layout of the ward wing resembled a beehive, composed of identical rooms. Within the narrow, dim corridors, more paths led deeper into the subterranean gloom.

His room was in the Artifact Accident Zone, which was on the first floor.

Below ground lay the Cursed and Pathogen Infection Zone.

Aside from these, there were roughly many other compartmentalized sections. Unlike the main architecture of the cathedral, the figures coming and going here were almost exclusively black-robed nuns who walked in absolute silence without making a sound.

When he emerged from the ward, he felt as though he were treading inside a gigantic "egg."

Gold, vessel-like reticular veins spanned the ground and walls, and he could see the golden blood pumping through them. As it flowed within the "pipes," he could almost hear the sound of a beating heart echoing in his ears.

Densely packed blood vessels intertwined and crossed one another. Their seemingly random distribution wrapped around every single ward and every inch of space.

Then, they extended upward, climbed, and converged at the apex.

Much like an ellipse, pointed at both ends and wide in the middle.

The nuns seemed entirely oblivious, treading upon the brick floors paved with blood vessels as they brushed past Roland.

Their footsteps were so light that not the slightest sound was made upon landing. They would appear silently and abruptly around corners or behind certain doors, resembling white phantoms draped in black veils.

Sendel Cratof nodded along the way to the nuns, speaking in a low voice to introduce things to Roland.

She had changed into a pair of black women's boots today, which were similarly dazzlingly bright.

Her boots were always so bright.

It looked as though she wore a brand-new pair every day.

"...We are walking upon the ritual of the Immortal. No, although none of us can see it, everyone knows it is there. It protects the cathedral, and it protects us."

Christopher Ryan.

Ten-Circle Immortal.

This was the several-times-over that Roland had heard this name.

Seeing the young woman looking over with bright eyes, he nodded slightly: "Lady Enid has told me of his deeds; this legendary cathedral was built by his own hands."

"Quite right." Sendel flashed a smile, her face full of yearning: "The ritualist who reached the end of the Great Path—how many people are protected by his masterpieces?"

Roland swept his gaze over the devout young woman.

Fernandez.

Why did she...

"I also hope that one day I might become... No, if I only had half of that lord's power, I would be able to protect and save so many more people."

Sendel's slightly lowered blue eyes gleamed with a peculiar luster in the flickering candlelight. She turned to look at Roland: "Mr. Collins, what made you embark upon the 'Great Path'?"

[Out of sheer necessity.]
—Can you come up with something less mood-killing?
[A twist of fate.]
—Got anything else?
[None of your damn business.]

Roland did not place much hope in it, and answered softly instead: "I have been a believer in the Holy Cross Church since childhood, Miss Cratof. Lady Enid gave me an opportunity, and I seized it. It is my honor to work alongside the brothers and sisters of the Church."

[A pack of lies.]

Sendel looked delighted, and the smile on her face grew even warmer.

"You won't regret it!"

she said cheerfully, her peripheral vision catching the two books tucked under Roland's arm with a look of surprise:

"The Flayed Book and Acquaintance with Phantoms—I was only allowed to read them after entering the Circle."

"I know you defeated a ritualist, so you must have read Understanding Rituals, which records the method for making holy water."

Just as several nuns passed by with their eyes fixed straight ahead, Roland and Sendel gave slight bows of courtesy. She whispered: "There is also knowledge of the 'Great Path' recorded in certain special, precious books..."

This obscure phrasing was actually meant to tell Roland that perhaps he could pry open the door to the mystery through Fernandez or someone else, by seeking books or canonized items.

Roland, of course, had to thank the young woman whose words could not be too explicit.

"From today onward, we are colleagues." Sendel reined in her smile, gave a timid little wave, and lowered her head, seemingly reluctant to meet Roland's gaze.

This narrow path leading to the porch was long and slender, cold and damp.

Every time a heel struck the brick floor, the sound echoed far away.

After half a minute of silence, the young woman suddenly broke it, making conversation out of nothing: "...If you have any questions, and supposing Mr. Dewenson is busy..."

Roland smiled.

"Of course. We are colleagues. Just the other day, I finished reading this book." He tapped the book cover tucked under his other arm with his left hand. "Fernandez told me a case. The farm's vengeful spirit murder case."

Sendel raised her head, her eyelashes fluttering: "The father and the daughter?"

She seemed to know this case as well, and when she uttered the names, they matched Fernandez's description precisely.

"Of course." She cheerfully echoed Roland's phrasing, revealing a few white teeth behind her thin lips: "It was all the rage back then. The Church lost two Five-Circle ritualists."

"How terrifying."

Roland sighed.

"Indeed." Sendel nodded along: "I hope such things never happen again. Yet when we face... we appear so utterly powerless..."

Face what?

Roland was puzzled.

"Didn't Mr. Dewenson tell you?"

"He told me half of it."

Roland wore a strange expression: "I thought the reason those two heroes gave their lives was to protect the villagers from harm, so..."

"Villagers? What does this have to do with villagers?"

Sendel's expression turned somewhat peculiar as she spoke in a soft, measured tone: "I believe you know that the standard procedure for dealing with spiritual entities is 'Reenactment' and the 'Key'. Most bloodshed cases are like this—"

"They harbor an intense obsession, a hatred, longing, attachment, or other special emotions toward a certain person or group of people, lingering in the waking world..."

"They attack the living using their own unique 'rules'..."

"Most of them are like this."

"As long as one spends a certain amount of time, achieves a successful 'Reenactment', and finds the crucial 'Key' behind the rules—Mr. Collins, in truth, the cause of death for those two ritualists was due to a 'forced assault'."

Sendel's voice grew somewhat ethereal.

Forced assault?

Sendel's face showed sorrow: "There were quite a few people who did evil things to that girl, and three of them were nobles. Yet the girl's father was merely a widower without backing; his ancestors had no fields to speak of, and his wife's family were nothing more than farmers."

"No one would openly accuse or oppose three nobles for her sake, nor for the sake of a dozen townspeople."

"Besides..."

"Everyone's testimonies were consistent."

"They said she worked as a prostitute in the poorhouse of her own free will. Her father was no good either, and the two of them brought their deaths upon themselves."

Sendel Cratof sighed: "You tell me, how is one to 'Reenact' this? Kill the three nobles? And the other gentlemen involved... just for the sake of a vengeful spirit?"

"Flesh and blood pitted against an unpurified spiritual entity, coupled with the tight schedule to prevent it from festering into a disaster—they simply didn't have time to find the 'Key' symbolizing the rules..."

And so.

The young woman's voice echoed down the corridor, among clusters of flickering flames.

The ending was just like that.