[264] Chaldea Arrives

There was no soul-stirring tale, no moving sacrifice worth singing praises about. 

It was simply the church's supervisor assigning a nun to investigate a demon-related mission, and the nun diligently, conscientiously carried it out to completion. 

Those grievous injuries looked horrifying, but they were just "occupational hazards" that Caren had experienced countless times before—wounds she had long grown accustomed to. 

Wasn't the downside of a Masochistic Spiritualist Constitution written plainly enough? 

"At least, thanks to Danzou, your most cherished chastity remains intact. Hmph, as a man, you should be happy about that." 

The nun quietly endured the ninja's bandaging, her words as sharp as ever. 

"Is that what I'm concerned about?" Sakatsuki retorted irritably, leaning against the wall, feeling like this was the perfect moment for a smoke to calm his nerves. 

But unfortunately, he had already quit smoking. And calming down was utterly impossible right now: 

"Are you a masochist? Do you really need to hurt yourself this badly to feel any pleasure?" 

Accusations always came easier than concern. The moment the words left his mouth, Sakatsuki realized he couldn't stop himself. 

"What did I tell you before? If you're injured, you're supposed to rest properly! Working while wounded is pointless—it's not like this damn church is going to give you a raise! Couldn't you just stay put, damn it?!" 

"What was the point of me bringing you here from the church? Do you not get it at all? Just wagging your tail and following someone else's orders without a second thought? You're really pushing it, Caren Hortensia—you won't even listen to your superior now?" 

All that righteous anger, all that empathetic concern, ultimately morphed into what seemed like resentful blame—had the nun noticed this subtle shift? 

The silver-haired nun merely lowered her gaze, her tone light and pleasant. 

"I am a believer of the Lord. My entire life should be devoted to God. That is the meaning of my existence." 

It was as if his throat had been squeezed shut. Sakatsuki couldn't utter another sound. 

Just like her father, Kirei Kotomine, his daughter Caren was someone whose interior had long rotted away, someone who could scarcely feel the pain of living, who meekly accepted a life of abuse. One could say her life's purpose was to help others at any cost, and she pursued that goal to the point of self-mutilation, blaming any resulting harm on the influence of demons. 

Did that certain time-traveler who had used his authority to bring Caren here harbor some laughable notion of "saving" all this? 

Finally, the priest turned his gaze away as if in disappointment and strode out. 

"Danzou, come here." 

Caren clearly felt the automaton bandaging her wounds tremble for a moment before standing up silently, bowing, and stepping outside. 

This wasn't her fault. It was her own willfulness that led her to accept the mission assigned by the church, returning covered in wounds only to be caught red-handed by Sakatsuki. 

The nun understood this perfectly well. She also firmly believed that the priest wasn't the type to act unreasonably. 

Yet for some reason, she suddenly felt uneasy. The wounds on her back pressed against the bandages, the alternating sensations of coolness and burning pain making her frown uncomfortably. 

After a moment's hesitation, she draped on her coat, slipped into her shoes, and stumbled toward the door. 

***

Outside, Sakatsuki stared at the lowered head of Katou Danzou, who didn't dare meet his eyes. 

...No, "didn't dare" was too emotional a phrase. This was simply the automaton's programmed way of showing respect. 

He had ordered Katou Danzou to regard Caren as her second master. If Caren insisted on going, Danzou had neither the ability nor the right to stop her. 

This was all just his own wishful thinking. 

Realizing this, Sakatsuki's anger finally dissipated. Pressing his fingers to his temples, he spoke calmly: 

"It's fine, Danzou. This isn't your fault. Go back inside." 

"Yes." 

Just as Sakatsuki expected, the automaton responded flatly and turned to leave. 

No guilt, no remorse—such artificial beings were born from human utilitarianism or desperate wishes. How could Sakatsuki expect them to grasp something as abstract as "emotion" beyond mere purpose and function? 

Even more laughable was the fact that humans couldn't even understand each other. What could Sakatsuki possibly demand from an automaton created solely to fulfill tasks? 

"...Pursuing the Third Magic must've fried my brain. No, this isn't the path to 'materialization of the soul' in the first place." 

Muttering words no one could comprehend, Sakatsuki raised his voice slightly, calling out to the retreating figure: 

"Remember this—the moment you were granted life, you were also given the right and duty to think, Miss Danzou." 

The solemn form of address made the automaton freeze mid-step, her hand pausing on the door. Then, her master sighed and continued: 

"Also, I might need some time alone. I leave Caren in your care. Don't disappoint me again... Hmph, never mind. Just don't let her die. The rest is up to you." 

Thus, by the time Caren stepped outside and ran into Danzou, the white-haired, golden-eyed priest had already vanished. 

Only an expansive, seemingly endless night blocked Caren's vision. 

As if she herself had driven that young man away. 

***

Holy Church, Tokyo Branch.

Late at night, an unwelcome guest arrived. 

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Three consecutive explosions sent small mushroom clouds into the air. A priest, jolted awake from pleasant dreams, scrambled outside, only to find a black-cloaked man standing at the entrance, twin blades in hand, with a pile of demon hunters lying at his feet like dead dogs. 

These hunters had never imagined that mere minutes ago, they'd been drinking in celebration of a successful demon extermination, maliciously discussing the alluring body of a certain silver-haired nun, fantasizing about what kind of seductive expressions she might make in bed—only to be effortlessly cut down by the sudden intruder and humiliatingly used as stepping stones. 

As for their captain, the executor in charge of demon cleanup, he had resisted and was now impaled through the chest, half-dead on the ground. 

"A team tasked with eliminating demons, yet so incompetent that you had to call for assistance from another branch?" 

The man coolly exposed their inadequacy before delivering his verdict. 

"Trash." 

"And as for the master of this trash—" The uninvited guest with golden eyes lifted his gaze, locking onto the trembling, obese priest. 

"You're the one who forcibly assigned Caren Hortensia to assist? Because she's the most convenient 'demon radar'?" 

"I—I... Eek!" 

"Fool. Offering your head would be... No, I'll grant you a more dignified death." The man narrowed his eyes, his smile far less comforting than his murderous intent. 

"Let's say... death on a societal level." 

The next morning, passersby near the Tokyo Holy Church were stunned to find not only a pile of "corpses" at the entrance but also the always-lecherous fat bishop stripped naked and hung like a slaughtered pig on the church's rooftop cross, as if he were a penitent sinner. 

On the wooden plaque nailed to his chest, four large characters brought immense satisfaction to all who saw them: 

"I AM TRASH."

***

[Entered Second Singularity: Second Phase. Return window: One day!]

Fleeing back to the battlefield as if escaping disaster, Sakatsuki soon received a message from a courier dispatched by the capital. 

"You're saying an organization called 'Chaldea' has arrived in Rome, and the Emperor has ordered my immediate return?" 

After a long silence, the commander seated in the tent slowly nodded, complex emotions swirling in his crimson eyes. 

"Understood. I'll depart at once."

***

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