Chapter 463: Delivered to the Side of God

At dusk, a village was ablaze.

Cavalrymen brandishing torches herded the villagers, shouting as they drove them out of a village tainted by a demonic plague.

On the village's outskirts, beside a main road, a bonfire had been stacked, with a cross erected atop it.

Seven or eight knights stood around the fire, and two corpses lay on the ground nearby.

Not long after, two horses galloped down the road. The first rider, a young bald priest in a simple gray robe, dismounted swiftly. He wore only a cross pendant around his neck.

"Why set the village on fire?" The young priest frowned as he looked at the burning village and questioned the lead knight.

"This village is cursed by demons. It has been defiled. Only flames can purify it," the knight captain replied coldly.

The priest knew that the knight was merely a destroyer hiding behind the pretext of faith. Criticizing him was futile. He turned his gaze to the two bodies on the ground and asked, "Who are they?"

"They are the 'devil's' parents. They summoned Father Clement, leading to his death. They even tried to defend the 'devil.' I suspect they were possessed by demons as well."

"Suspect? You killed them just on suspicion?" The priest's anger flared. It was precisely these zealots, who spread fear under the Church's name, that twisted and brutalized the institution. A faith sustained by fear would never endure.

"Are you questioning my loyalty?!" The knight captain retorted sharply. "A priest was killed here by demons, and you expect me to show mercy to these heretics?"

The priest, seething with anger, held his tongue. Colluding with heretics was a severe crime, and sympathizing with them was the first step toward betrayal.

"Where is the possessed one?"

The "devil" was brought forth.

It was a girl, appearing no older than four or five. Her hands were tied behind her back, and from the awkward bend of her arms, they might have been broken.

The child's face was streaked with tears, her wide eyes vacant and unfocused—a sign of deep psychological trauma.

The priest instantly recognized that this was no demon-possessed child. The cross on his chest vibrated slightly, affirming his suspicion—she was likely just a witch.

Although the Church's public teachings made no distinction between the two, internally, they were quite different.

Those controlled by the gods of other faiths, the so-called "demon-possessed," were irrevocably corrupted, their powers often derived from external dark deities.

In contrast, witches were a unique group whose powers seemed intrinsic, unrelated to their souls.

These beasts had brutally mistreated an innocent child. While enemies of God had to be eradicated, such cruelty was against divine teachings.

He approached the girl, brushing past a knight who tried to block him. He placed a hand on the girl's head.

The cross on his chest trembled lightly, confirming her identity.

A witch.

He sighed, "May God forgive your sins, child. Don't be afraid. It will be over soon."

He rose and ordered the knights to tie the girl to the cross on the bonfire.

Whether witch or demon-possessed, both were enemies of the Church.

In fact, witches were even more dangerous.

They were said to aid the expansion of territories for the deities of other faiths. On the Church's list of enemies to be eradicated, they ranked higher than heretics. Moreover, a priest had died here.

The girl had to die.

The thought of killing an innocent child weighed heavily on the young priest. His breath grew heavy, and his heart ached as if squeezed by an unseen hand.

But this pain turned into a masochistic form of resolve.

Everything was for the divine mission.

If this was a sin, he would bear it alone. Even if it meant he could not enter heaven, as long as God's grace could reach more people, it was worth it.

As if affirming his resolve, the cross on his chest radiated a gentle warmth.

A thought, like a divine revelation, came to him, "The pain of the flames is temporary. If her soul is pure, she will return to God's side."

The priest's heart lightened, and he almost wept with gratitude.

This must be a divine message. God was so merciful that He would not abandon even a witch who could potentially undermine His great work. He left a place for them by His side.

He was so compassionate, even the insignificant anxieties of His followers did not escape His notice.

The priest felt reinvigorated, his spirit purified by this small trial.

The girl was tied to the cross. She seemed to realize her fate and struggled desperately. Her mouth was gagged, and she could only make muffled cries, her body writhing as tears and snot covered her face.

The priest took a deep breath and gave a gentle smile.

He did not remove the gag, fearing that in her terror, she might blaspheme and add to his sins.

Don't be afraid, child. You have not been tainted by worldly sins. You will return to the Father in the purest form, to eternal peace and joy.

With this thought, he did not hesitate. He took a torch handed to him by a knight and threw it onto the oil-soaked bonfire.

"Mmhh…mmhh…" The girl let out heart-wrenching cries.

In the thick smoke, her struggling form was a manifestation of pure terror. Despite being mentally prepared, the priest couldn't help but feel a surge of fear.

"Great Father," he shouted to suppress the fear rising within him, "I deliver this girl to Your side. Please watch over her soul, forgive her sins, and grant her wisdom and eternity…"

Before he could finish, the cross on his chest began to vibrate violently.

This cross was a holy relic bestowed upon him when he became a Church priest. It was said to be blessed by an angel and could help believers convey their prayers to the Father. In the hands of devout believers, it could even resonate and bring about miracles.

However, the young priest was still inexperienced. In his hands, the cross merely had the ability to detect nearby evil.

Whenever heretics or other evil beings were near, the cross would start to vibrate. The stronger the evil, the more intense the vibration.

Earlier, the cross had only trembled slightly in the presence of the witch child, whose power was minimal. But for a follower of a dark god—a so-called demon-possessed, whose strength far surpassed that of an ordinary witch—the cross's vibrations would be significantly stronger.

Yet, even during the Church's crusades against true demons, the cross had never trembled as violently as it did now.

To the priest's astonishment, it floated up, the force strong enough to snap the chain around his neck.

It hovered half a meter in front of him, like a watchdog confronting a predator, vigilantly guarding him.

At that moment, the priest saw a figure in the distance.

In the dying light of the sunset, a tall figure walked towards them.

With each step, the cross's vibrations intensified, and cracks began to form, emitting a blinding white light from within.

However, this light did nothing to obscure the darkness enveloping the approaching figure.

As the sun sank lower, a chilling wind swept through, extinguishing the village flames. The priest noticed with shock that the nearby knights had been frozen solid, their bodies covered in frost as if turned into ice statues by the cold wind.

"God, Father…"

Realizing he faced an unprecedentedly powerful threat, the priest instinctively began to pray.

But he heard a soft laugh.

"Your God is too far away. He cannot hear such prayers."

"Better speak to Him in person."

Before the words were fully spoken, the cross was twisted as if by an unseen force, screeching as it was bent into a useless shape and then dropped to the ground like a piece of scrap metal.

Without the cross's protection, the priest was instantly overwhelmed by the biting cold.

In a flash, his limbs and internal organs were frozen.

As his vision whitened, he glimpsed the figure's appearance.

Short black hair, golden eyes, the figure was a strikingly handsome young man.

However, in his brief moment of dying clarity, he saw the true form beneath the façade.

Covered in scales, hooved feet, six wings, four horns atop his head…

Satan…

"The enemy… of God…"

He murmured his final words before sinking into eternal silence.

Murphy barely glanced at him, walking straight to the now cold bonfire. With a gesture, he scooped up the unconscious girl, suffocated by the smoke.

Seeing her silver hair, Murphy clicked his tongue as if unsurprised and then vanished on the spot.

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