Chapter 17: Assassinations and Schemes

In the dead of night, a solitary villa stood in quiet isolation, far removed from the bustling urban sprawl of the kingdom.

This was a highly residential area that most of the common folks would only be able to dream of living in. The Kingdom of Thrash was surrounded by natural resources, and most of its people were miners, working hard day after day. But no matter how much they dug up, places like this villa were out of reach. Still, everyone knew who it belonged to.

His name was Mister Shu, the head of a powerful chamber of commerce that supplied goods and resources to kingdoms across Solvaria. Some admired him, others whispered about him, but no one could deny his influence. His power as a merchant was simply too great, as he held many connections to countless influential figures, not even the King of Thrash would rashly provoke him.

But, it seemed as if tonight was going to be a restless night.

As the multitude of guards and servants inside the villa were mysteriously falling asleep. Conch, the head of the guards, was struggling to stay awake, fighting off the heavy wave of drowsiness pulling at him. He could easily tell that something was amiss. If he let himself drift off, he knew something terrible would happen.

With great determination, he desperately rushed towards the master's quarters, his heart pounding inside of his chest.

There have been countless attempts on Mister Shu's life. But none was as daring as this. These unknown assailants were directly attacking him, inside his villa, and in the Kingdom of Thrash.

If proved successful, one could imagine the consequences that would be sent through the kingdom.

Mister Shu's power was immense. His death would collapse businesses, send merchants into panic, and leave others wondering if they'd be next. Not only that, the King of Thrash would have a horrible headache, trying to deal with the aftermath.

As Conch raced through the villa, something shot toward him with incredible force, small needle-like projectiles cutting through the air. He snorted in disdain and drew his sword in one fluid motion.

The blade was slender, elegant, and razor-sharp, leaving behind a trail of shimmering mirages as it slid free from its sheath. His calloused hands, hardened by years of relentless training, gripped the hilt with practiced ease. Muscles tensed, his forearms bulged, veins rising beneath his skin like streams of raw power.

With a single swing, Conch unleashed a devastating crescent-shaped energy that tore through the hallway, its sharp edge howling through the air and shattering everything in its path.

BOOM!

A thunderous explosion rocked the hallway, obliterating everything in its path. The destructive energy tore through walls and stones, leaving behind only destruction. The villa trembled violently, the shockwave rippling through the night like a roar of anger.

As the dust settled, Conch's eyes locked onto a strange humanoid figure before him. Its body had been utterly destroyed, reduced to little more than scraps. This humanoid figure was simply just a puppet. It had no flesh and no blood. It only existed to follow the will of its master.

Without sparing the puppet a second thought, Conch pressed on. Time was critical, and he had no interest in investigating the useless thing before him.

He didn't know when it happened, but by the time he reached the doors to the master's quarters, his heart skipped a beat. The doors were wide open. Inside, Mister Shu and his family lay peacefully on the bed. But the scene was wrong—eerily wrong. Pins and needles pierced through their heads, and their eyes stared blankly, empty of life, devoid of any emotion. Like porcelain dolls, all they could do was stand in one motion. The sight sent a chill down his spine.

He had been too late.

...

A man knelt in prayer before a statue, his hands clasped in devotion.lay kneeling as he prayed towards a statue.

The statue, carved from quartz, depicted a holy figure with a feminine form, draped in flowing robes and crowned with a circle of thorns. The only thing that was missing was its face.

This was no accident. It was a deliberate act of reverence. To attempt to recreate the face of God was considered blasphemous, an affront to God. Mortals who dared to do so would incur the wrath of the world's churches, facing persecution for their ignorance.

This rule was upheld by all the Churches, regardless of which God they worshipped. Gods were sacred and beyond mortal comprehension, humans as imperfect and flawed creatures, could never hope to grasp their true images.

Light filtered through the stained glass, casting a glow that painted the scene with an aura of holiness and serenity, a world that was unblemished by mortal sins.

A priestess in white robes rushed toward the praying figure, her steps quick and her voice tinged with distress.

"Your Holiness, I bring urgent news. Countless kingdoms have faced assassinations, and many influential political figures have been killed recently. What's even worse, countless Realms have caused outbreaks. Many people have been killed by these outbreaks. I'm afraid that if we don't do something about this. If we don't act swiftly, the Church may lose its supporters, and people will begin to lose their faith."

The man opened his eyes slowly, his expression calm and untroubled by the gravity of the situation.

He seemed almost sculpted to perfection. His eyes gleamed like blue diamonds, striking and intense. His short silver-white hair fell gently over his face, barely concealing the sharp features beneath. His body was as if it was sculpted from stone, every muscle defined as if carved by the hands of a master. Barely concealed by the armor that he wore.

His voice was calm and steady as he replied, "There's no need for concern. It's nothing more than a forgotten emperor and his minions stirring chaos. The Church will continue, as it always has. Simply send more priests to the places hit by the outbreaks."

The priestess nodded quietly, still in awe of his unshakable calm.

Before she could collect her thoughts, the man in white spoke again, his voice unwavering.

"God's vision is vast. When the ritual for his resurrection begins, we will be the one that strikes first. Kill the minions and remind the world of our power. We must act before the other churches can. As it will be us who will be seen as the heroes that stopped a calamity from occurring. You may now pardon yourself."

"Yes, Your Holiness." The priestess bowed deeply, her mind racing with the weight of his words before she quickly departed.

Every word that he spoke, she deeply trusted and faithfully acted upon. He was the messenger of God, and obeying his commands would only bring greater prosperity to the Church.

For he was 'The Son of God', the one recognized by The Goddess of Light.