Chapter 153: Hurting Those Closest to Him
Abyss knew he was in a dream, but he couldn’t calm his heart.
Rebecca was precious to him. He couldn’t bear to see her heartbroken, especially since this dream, crafted by the Lord of Nightmares, was partially based on her real memories, amplified by Abyss’s own consciousness, making it feel incredibly real. His thoughts, manipulated by the Outer God, weren’t his own. He couldn’t think clearly.
Whenever he tried to remind himself that it was just a dream, a force would erase the thought from his mind, leaving him with a frustrating sense of incompleteness, like opening a box and forgetting what he was looking for. His memory, usually impeccable, was now unreliable.
Young Rebecca, her eyes filled with hurt and confusion, approached him, and he couldn’t even close his eyes to avoid her gaze.
He watched helplessly as she took the potion-spraying device from his hands.
She sniffed it, her head shaking slowly, tears streaming down her face, landing on the device. She didn’t speak, didn’t question his actions, her silence more heartbreaking than any accusation.
This Abyss, the one she was facing, didn’t exist in her memories. The Lord of Nightmares had created this scenario, forcing Abyss to experience the pain of hurting his followers firsthand. And it was effective. Abyss was angrier than he had ever been, his desire to confront the Lord of Nightmares burning within him—but the Outer God was intangible, and he couldn’t escape this dream.
He watched Rebecca’s heartbroken expression for what felt like an eternity. Then, the scene shifted to Rebecca desperately trying to heal the injured townspeople, her face streaked with sweat. And Abyss, the cause of their suffering, sat there, chewing on tobacco leaves, watching coldly, as if their pain was of no consequence to him.
After what felt like hours, the injured were carried away, the streets cleared. As Rebecca turned to leave, Abyss’s vision blurred, the scene shifting again.
He was now walking down a long, opulent corridor in a grand palace, flanked by female knights in ornate armor. He recognized their attire—they were Paladins of the Church.
He was also wearing Paladin armor, his own adorned with precious metals and gems, his rank clearly higher than theirs.
A sense of dread filled him.
He remembered Flora’s untimely death, poisoned against her will. It was likely her most traumatic memory.
He wanted to stop, but he couldn’t, his body moving forward, his steps measured and precise, controlled by the dream.
He stopped before a lavishly decorated bedroom door and knocked gently.
“Come in,” Flora’s sweet voice replied.
No… I can’t go in…
But his body moved, his hand opening the door, revealing Flora, dressed in a beautiful gown, sitting at a table, reading a book, her demeanor calm and graceful.
She looked up, a forced smile on her face. “Master Abyss, what brings you here?”
“Close the door,” he said, addressing the Paladins behind him.
The door closed, locked from the inside. One of the Paladins chanted a prayer, silencing the room at the cost of her own voice. They surrounded Flora.
Flora’s eyes widened, her expression shifting from surprise to fear. She stood up, setting aside her book. “Master Abyss, what are you doing?”
“Saint Flora, I, Abyss, Paladin-Judge, hereby pronounce your sentence.”
“Sentence?” Flora asked, her voice trembling. “What crime have I committed?”
“Crime number one: Deliberately disrupting the unity of the Church. The Nine Gods have commanded us to serve them with unwavering loyalty and unity. You, Saint Flora, have defied tradition, broken the rules, and acted independently.”
Before Flora could protest, two female Paladins grabbed her arms, restraining her. According to Church doctrine, a Saint shouldn’t have close physical contact with men, so all the Paladins present, except for Abyss, the one delivering the judgment, were women.
Abyss knew he wasn’t the one who had condemned Flora, but the Lord of Nightmares had altered her memories, replacing her true executioner with him, to amplify his suffering.
“I didn’t!” Flora exclaimed, her voice filled with panic. “I never intended to disrupt the Church’s unity! I wanted everyone to be united, to love each other, I wanted the Church to…”
“Crime number two!” Abyss interrupted, his voice booming. “Spreading heretical ideas, corrupting devout followers, embezzling Church funds, engaging in extravagant construction projects, exploiting the people, and accepting bribes!”
“Crime number three! Deceiving His Holiness, Pope Hendrick III, manipulating him into joining your corrupt organization, attempting to subvert Church tradition, and undermining the faith in the Nine Gods!”
“Crime number four! Stealing Church secrets…”
Abyss continued, listing ten fabricated crimes, then waved his hand. The Paladins closed in on Flora.
Tears streamed down her face, her beautiful golden eyes filled with despair. She didn’t struggle, her voice a weak whisper. “I didn’t… I didn’t…”
“Saint Flora, your crimes are unforgivable. You are hereby sentenced to consume this potion, to cleanse your soul and sever your ties to evil!” Abyss declared, his voice cold and merciless. “Execute the sentence immediately!”
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