Chapter 50: The Thirteenth Saint
“Artificial saint?”
The teacup in Shion’s hand tilted slightly, tea rippling in tiny waves at the rim.
His fingers unconsciously tightened, knuckles whitening, amber pupils contracting slightly with shock. Between trembling lashes, confusion and surprise flowed across his face like interwoven light and shadow.
“Mm-hmm~”
Heralys leaned lazily in the carved armchair, golden hair cascading like sunlight over the deep purple velvet cushions.
Her slender index finger rhythmically tapped the table surface, the sapphire magical patterns on her nails flickering with her movements. Her lips curved in a meaningful arc, violet eyes sparkling with mocking light.
“A thousand years ago, the goddess saved the world, selecting twelve saints and granting them power to form the original Sanctuary of Light.”
The saint’s voice was like silk sliding over a blade, carrying subtle sarcasm.
“But how could that pure, flawless list of the radiant goddess permit the existence of a saint symbolizing darkness?”
“Then why violate the goddess’s will to create a dark saint?”
Shion unconsciously leaned forward, his brow furrowed in a knot, the teacup trembling slightly in his hands. Hot tea steam blurred his confused expression.
“Heh, where there’s light, there’s darkness. There are always some unsavory matters that need handling, and the twelve saints are divine grace from the goddess—how could they be tainted by darkness?”
Heralys suddenly laughed lightly, her slender legs crossing elegantly, the nightgown’s hem sliding to reveal her snow-white ankle. She suddenly leaned close, her breath carrying night rose fragrance brushing Shion’s cheek, her fingertip drawing a strange symbol in the air.
“The Shadow-Eroding Saint was manufactured by the Sanctuary of Light after centuries of studying the saints, specifically to handle some less… glorious matters, like secretly executing heretical mages.”
“So I’m being targeted?”
Shion blinked, his Adam’s apple nervously bobbing. He unconsciously touched his neck—Skadi’s scythe had been less than a centimeter away.
“Seems that’s right. Being an artificial saint, Skadi has almost no human emotions or personality, or rather, those were discarded before formation.”
Heralys suddenly reached out to grasp his chin, the cold touch making him shiver. Her thumb ambiguously massaged his skin.
“Her mind is filled with nothing but how to execute the Sanctuary’s high command missions, like an exquisite marionette~”
“Discarded?”
Shion frowned, catching a key word.
“Shadow element mages are quite special. The price of immortality is inability to use ordinary crystals or potions for mental soothing, so their mental power gradually approaches the edge of collapse. Whenever a Shadow-Eroding Saint’s mind collapses, they create a new one to replace her.”
Heralys withdrew her hand, nestling back into the sofa.
“That’s too cruel—completely treating people as tools.”
Shion’s eyes reddened slightly. Born human, created solely to execute heretical purification, discarded when broken.
He thought of that silver-haired girl standing alone in moonlight, her expression of longing for release when gazing at stars. She looked exactly like his sister Lufia before her execution by the saint. The two girls’ figures gradually overlapped, causing stabbing pains in his chest.
“I won’t deny it—the Sanctuary of Light does have its dark side, like people such as Berkeley.”
Heralys suddenly dropped her mocking expression, elegantly raising her pinky to sip red tea, her red lips leaving an ambiguous lip print on the rim.
“But currently, only the Sanctuary of Light can systematically establish defenses against monsters. Otherwise, humanity will ultimately perish.”
“By the way, there’s something I need to tell you…”
Shion fell silent for a moment. Mentioning the dark side, he suddenly remembered the mysterious person he’d encountered in the werewolf cave. He hoped to hear this saint’s opinion. Previously, Cynthia had concealed this matter to hide their mental soothing relationship, but now there was no need to keep it secret.
“Hmph~ As expected, Cynthia’s been hiding quite a bit from me.”
A flash of dangerous purple light crossed Heralys’s eyes. She suddenly stood, her skirt spinning like a blooming white camellia, layer upon layer of petal-like gauze drawing elegant arcs in the air. The snow-white satin gleamed pearl-like under moonlight, like a forbidden flower suddenly blooming in the night.
“Ouroboros altar… Berkeley’s witch catalysis… Mary’s brother… They’ve infiltrated deeper than I imagined.”
The saint’s face showed gravity. Whether witch catalysis or that sloth prison ability was quite troublesome for mages, giving her a sense of crisis, feeling something big might happen next. She turned to look at Shion.
“We should just unite already, shouldn’t we?”
Heralys suddenly leaned forward, her hands slamming onto the armrests on either side of Shion with a “thud.” Her slender right leg’s knee pressed irresistibly between Shion’s legs, the silk nightgown sliding with the movement to reveal her snow-white thigh.
This action made the armchair creak under strain while completely trapping Shion in this oppressive, narrow space.
They were close enough to count each other’s trembling lashes. The saint’s cascading golden hair shrouded them like a curtain, the ends sweeping across Shion’s flushed cheek with teasing rose fragrance. She deliberately slowed her breathing, warm breath intentionally brushing Shion’s lips.
If the ancient tome fragments were correct about saints and mental soothers uniting to evolve to the next form, she could handle any changes with ease.
“Heralys-sama, it’s almost dawn.”
Shion looked helpless, clearly feeling the knee pressing between his legs slowly applying pressure. This aggressively invasive position made him rigid all over, his lower back pressed against the chair back with nowhere to retreat, forced to tilt his head back under the saint’s burning gaze.
He pointed to the wall clock, where the crystal on the pendulum glowed with dawn’s first light.
“Tch, such a mood killer. Next time then. Time to send you back.”
Heralys pouted, reluctantly straightening up. She waved her hand casually, generating a teleportation magic circle on the ground.
“By the way, Heralys-sama, don’t forget our deal.”
Shion suddenly turned before stepping into the teleportation array, his gaze sharp.
“Keep giving Cynthia-sama a sense of crisis at all times.”
“Don’t worry~”
Heralys wore a mischievous smile.
“I’m best at this sort of thing~”

Meanwhile, at some hidden place at world’s end, an ancient and magnificent hall slumbered in eternal darkness.
Seven massive stone pillars surrounded a central altar, each carved with complex and eerie runes, as if whispering forbidden knowledge.
The pillar surfaces gleamed with dark luster, like traces eroded by both time and magic.
Suddenly, one pillar blazed with sickly green light, its runes writhing like living things, gradually coalescing into a blurred human figure.
It was a man in a dark green robe, his hooded shadow concealing his face, only a pair of cold-gleaming eyes barely visible. He knelt on one knee, his voice hoarse and respectful, like whispers crawling from the abyss:
“Proxy-sama, the witch catalysis experiment is complete… Additionally, two of my subordinates encountered a mental soother.”
As his words fell, the hall plunged into brief silence.
Then the central altar slowly glowed with dark purple light, and a figure wrapped in thick black shadows emerged. The shadows flowed like liquid yet never dispersed, vaguely revealing feminine contours, but her voice was cold as machinery, devoid of emotion.
“The time has come.”
Those few words seemed to carry inviolable will, even the air freezing in response.
“Initiate the plan. Phase One—executed by you, Apostle of Sloth.”
The man bowed deeply, his figure dissipating like smoke, leaving only the pillar’s light slowly extinguishing.
The next second, the perspective shifted abruptly.
In the deepest part of the Sanctuary of Light, a rust-stained iron door was pushed open, its harsh scraping echoing through the silent corridor.
Behind the door was a massive circular room, its dome so high it nearly vanished in darkness. In the room’s center, a mountain of “things” formed a grotesque peak—
Corpses.
Countless corpses of young girls, all bearing the same face—Skadi’s face.
They were covered in dark purple crystals, as if consumed by some curse, only their faces retaining final moments of horror and despair, seeming to scream silently.
Atop the mountain of corpses, the current Shadow-Eroding Saint curled up in moonlight, arms tightly embracing her massive scythe.
Her breathing was weak and rapid, shadow crystals having spread to her neck, coiling around her skin like poisonous vines. Her white hair had lost its luster, disheveled and scattered, the ends already beginning to crystallize—they would shatter at the lightest touch.
The man stood at the doorway, not even stepping into the room, only coldly dropping a single sentence.
“0233, your final mission is to bring back the mental soother.”
He didn’t wait for Skadi’s response, turning and leaving. The iron door slammed shut with a dull crash.
In the silence, the room suddenly blazed with blue magical flames, illuminating the entire space.
Skadi slowly raised her head, pupils contracting from the sudden light. Her gaze swept over the mountain of corpses beneath her—those former “selves,” those “tools” discarded when broken.
Her lips trembled slightly, cracked lips seeping a trace of blood.
“Finally…”
Skadi struggled to her feet, the scythe blade scraping harshly against the ground. She lifted her head toward the dome, where there was no sky, only endless darkness.
“This time, I’ll personally end this endless cycle.”
A drop of dark purple tear slid down her cheek, crystallizing before it could fall.