Mystery: Gray Walker

Chapter 83 The Hidden Fangs

Olivier remained silent for a long time.

Veronica waited so long that she thought he wouldn't answer anymore.

Then he spoke. His voice was soft and calm.

"Because, among the people the Church of the God of War wants me to kill... is my wife."

Veronica raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

“She was an ordinary person,” Olivier continued, “the daughter of a baker. We met on the battlefield in the South, where she was a nurse in a field hospital.”

"Later, the war ended. We returned to Kita-Oji, got married, and wanted to live a peaceful life."

"But the Church of the God of War will not agree."

His voice began to tremble.

It's not fear.

It's anger.

Anger that has been suppressed for ten, twenty, or perhaps longer years.

"They said she was a 'spy of the night.' They said she had contact with priests of the Church of the Night on the battlefield, and that her soul was 'corrupted.'"

"They want me to hand her over and undergo 'purification'."

Olivier smiled.

His smile looked worse than his tears.

"Purification... Ha. I know what that means. The Church of War's 'purification' is to tie a living person to a pillar, pour holy oil on them, and burn them alive."

"They said it was for the sake of 'purifying the faith'."

"For the glory of the warrior."

He looked up at Veronica.

"So, I ran away with her."

"We hid for three years. In those three years, I killed seventeen deacons of the Church of War who came to hunt us down, two Sequence 8 'Fighters,' and one Sequence 7 'Weapon Master.'"

"Finally, they caught up with us on the snowy plains north of Kitaoji."

Olivier's voice abruptly stopped.

His lips trembled, as if the words to come were too heavy for him to utter.

Veronica looked at him silently, her deep red eyes devoid of any sympathy.

Just curiosity.

Pure curiosity.

"And then?" she asked softly.

Olivier closed his eyes.

When I opened my eyes again, all that remained was deathly stillness.

"Then, she died."

"She wasn't killed by the Church of the God of War. She committed suicide... so as not to be a burden to me, so that I could live."

"Use the dagger I gave her for self-defense."

"It pierced his own heart."

He paused for a long time.

So long that Veronica thought the story was over.

But Olivier spoke again: "Before she died, she said something to me."

She said, "Oli, don't hate them. Hate is too tiring. Live on, go somewhere...where you don't need to hate."

"So, I went to the Church of the Night."

"It's not because of faith."

"Just because... that's the mortal enemy of the Church of War. Just because... that might offer me a place to stay."

That's all.

After saying that, Olivier fell silent.

He closed his eyes, as if he were ready to face death.

Veronica watched him quietly.

Looked for a long time.

Then she smiled.

It wasn't a mocking laugh.

It's... a smile of appreciation.

"It's a beautiful story," she said softly. "Really. I was almost moved to tears."

She walked up to Olivier, leaning slightly forward. "But do you know, Olivier Tours?"

"There is a fatal flaw in your story."

Olivier opened his eyes.

"What vulnerability?"

Veronica's smile held a hint of pleasure, tinged with cruelty: "If you truly love your wife that much... if you truly betrayed your entire faith for her..."

"Then why didn't you die with her after she died?"

Olivier's body stiffened abruptly.

"Why are you still alive?"

Veronica's finger touched his chest again.

"Why can you still wield a sword, still fight, and still... stand here, telling me this heart-wrenching story?"

Her voice gently reached Olivier's ears:

"Because you don't love her at all."

"What you love is only the part of yourself that 'loves her'."

"You betrayed the Church of the God of War not because of love... but because you were already tired of that faith. You wanted to escape for a long time. Your wife was just a... high-sounding excuse for you."

"Am I right, my dear... Mr. Traitor?"

Olivier's lips trembled.

He wanted to argue.

I want to roar.

I mean, what do you know?

But when the words reached his lips, he couldn't utter a single one.

because......

Because what Veronica said might be true.

Perhaps he had long been tired of the Church of War's doctrines of "glory," "sacrifice," and "fighting for God."

Perhaps he had wanted to escape for a long time.

Perhaps, his wife... really was just an excuse.

An excuse that allows him to betray with a clear conscience and live on with a straight face...

"See, I was right."

"So, we're actually the same kind of people, Olivier."

"They are all traitors."

"They all chose... the easier path."

She took a step back and opened her arms.

Crimson spirituality coalesced and surged behind her, transforming into a pair of enormous wings woven from flesh and blood.

Join us.

Her voice carried a seductive magic: "The Crimson Order needs no false faith, no laughable loyalty."

"We only worship power."

"I only pursue... true freedom."

"Join us and you can have everything you want: power, immortality, and... liberation from the need to repent for the past."

Olivier looked up.

Looking at Veronica.

Looking at those blasphemous wings.

Looking into those deep red, alluring eyes.

Then he smiled.

He laughed very loudly.

I laughed so hard that tears streamed down my face.

"Haha...hahaha..."

He laughed so hard he almost couldn't breathe.

Veronica frowned:

"What are you laughing at?"

Olivier stopped laughing.

He wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes, looked at Veronica, and his gray eyes rekindled with fighting spirit.

An unyielding fighting spirit.

"I'm laughing at you, Veronica Thorne."

"I laugh at you; you have no idea what 'betrayal' means."

"I laugh at you, you wouldn't... actually believe my story, would you?"

The moment Olivier finished speaking, Veronica's smile froze.

A flicker of surprise crossed her deep red eyes, which quickly turned into icy rage.

"you--"

Veronica uttered only one word.

Because of her spiritual intuition, she issued a sharp warning at that moment.

Something... no.

In that instant, the watchman's spirituality underwent a qualitative change.

It's not about becoming stronger, but rather... becoming extremely reserved and compressed, like a volcano about to erupt, in its final, deathly stillness before the eruption.

"You're stalling for time," Veronica's voice turned cold. "Waiting for your teammates? Those useless bunch?"

She laughed. "It's no use. The ritual is complete. I am now a Sequence 5 'Crimson Scholar.' Even if they all came, they would only be a few more sacrifices—"

Her words came to an abrupt end.

Because the 'Rock Crack' in Olivier's hand suddenly began to tremble.

It emitted a pulse from within, like the awakening of an ancient heart...

"Thump...thump...thump..."

With each pulse, the silver patterns on the sword gleamed a little brighter.

With each pulse, the crimson shackles binding Olivier cracked a crack.

Veronica's smile vanished completely.

She took a step back.

This is the first time she has regressed since being promoted to Sequence 5, "Crimson Scholar".

"What is that?" For the first time, uncertainty appeared in her voice.

Olivier did not answer.

He simply looked at the sword in his hand.

Looking at the sword that had been with him for fifteen years, from the mountains of corpses and seas of blood in the Southern Continent to his escape from the snowy plains of the Northern Continent, and then to countless night watch missions for the Church of the Night... his old friend.

The silver patterns on the sword were as bright as day.

Those patterns were no longer simple decorations, but some kind of... ancient runes, full of warlike intent and destructive aura.

The runes are circulating, reorganizing, and awakening.

“Clarice is right,” Olivier said softly, as if talking to himself. “One of the most troublesome abilities of the Crimson Scholars is ‘Moonlight Transformation’... It allows them to transform part or all of their body into moonlight, making them immune to most physical attacks, and at the same time, they can teleport freely within the area covered by moonlight.”

He looked up at Veronica:

"Therefore, long-range attacks are ineffective against you. I must make you lower your guard, I must... get close."

Veronica's expression changed completely.

She finally understood.

This night watchman was acting from the very beginning.

That tragic story, that 'traitor's' self-analysis, that seemingly desperate resignation... all of it was for this moment.

To get her closer.

To make her feel that everything is under control.

So that she could... stand within his reach.

"you--"

What does Veronica want to say?

But it was too late.

The sword in Olivier's hand emitted a final, piercing shriek, as if it were tearing the soul apart.

The silver runes on the sword ignited completely at that moment.

That wasn't a flame.

That was... light.

A light that is pure to the extreme, sharp to the extreme, and full of ancient fighting spirit.

Light burst forth from the sword, instantly engulfing Olivier, Veronica, and the entire room.

In the final moment of the burst of light, Veronica saw Olivier's eyes.

Those gray eyes, always filled with weariness and mockery, now held only one emotion... resolute determination.

And a sense of relief.

"Blood ties are proof!"

"A nemesis looms!"

Olivier's voice echoed in the light:

"Hereinafter, the judgment of liberation is rendered!"

Time seems to stand still at this moment.

"Clang!!!"

The silver light transformed into the phantom of a giant sword that stretched across the room.

That was a blessed, sealed strike from a demigod within Olivier's ancestral sword.

From Sequence 4 'The Witcher'

Evil-Slaying Slash.

This attack has remained sealed ever since.

until now.

Up to this point, Olivier and Veronica were less than three steps apart.

At this point, Veronica had just ascended to enlightenment, her spirituality was not yet fully stable, and she was most relaxed due to her mindset of "being in control of everything".

The phantom of the giant sword slashed down.

There is no track.

Because when it appears, it is already in the process of being cut down.

Veronica's pupils suddenly contracted.

Her body instinctively 'transformed' into moonlight, with crimson spirituality surging forth wildly, attempting to transform her body into ethereal moonlight to evade this fatal blow.

But it's too close.

too suddenly.

Moreover, the "evil-dispelling" attribute attached to this strike has a natural suppressive and tearing effect on all dark, filthy, and evil forces.

The power of the "Crimson Scholar" originates from the moon and from the Mother Tree of Desire.

It is the most extreme form of "evil".

"No--!!!"

Veronica only had time to let out a short scream.

Then, the phantom of the silver giant sword struck her.

It struck her newly formed, deep red 'spiritual essence'.

"Snap!!!"

It sounded like glass shattering.

Veronica's crimson spirituality, like a mirror struck by a heavy hammer, was instantly covered with spiderweb-like cracks.

Her newly ascended, still unstable Sequence 5 spirituality suffered a fundamental wound from this attack.

Veronica instantly coughed up a mouthful of blood.

The blood wasn't red, but a deep red, almost black, mixed with tiny, crystal-like spiritual fragments.

Her body was forcibly shaken out of its 'moonlight transformation' state and reformed into a physical form, but a terrifying, penetrating wound radiating silver light appeared on her chest.

The wound is not bleeding.

Because the blood is evaporated and purified by the silvery glow remaining at the wound the moment it flows out.

"Ugh—!!!"

Veronica let out a painful scream, staggered backward, smashed the altar behind her, and collapsed half of the wall.

She looked down at the wound on her chest, her eyes filled with disbelief and rage.

Her Sequence 5 realm... has been shaken.

At this moment, she could still feel the silver "exorcising" power at the wound site continuously eroding her spirituality and preventing her from healing herself.

"You...you...madman..."

Veronica looked up at the center of the light.

Look at Olivier.