The Devil's Cage

Chapter 1840: Change!

Bloody Mary finally was able to heave a sigh of relief after it left the cathedral’s proximity.

It wiped away the sweat that didn’t exist on its forehead and grinned.

It was much easier than expected.

Bloody Mary had actually prepared five backup plans should the first one fail, but in the end it didn’t use any of them.

The higher-ups of War God Temple played along better than it expected, they simply delivered the ideal outcome to it.

That’s right! Its... or rather its boss’s target had always been the higher-ups of War God Temple. Compared to the lower and medium rank believers, the higher-ups had much more value.

Even though they were the believers of God of War, even though War God Temple claimed that people should have an equal life, and even though they claimed that the believers of God of War would return to the holy kingdom after death, it was all different in the end.

Whether it was the resources or the concerns received, they were all different, especially the latter, which made Bloody Mary extra careful.

Then, it realized it was not just overthinking, it was being lucky as well.

“That God is still concerned about Calamity, eh? But Cabio, I guess he will have to do!” Bloody Mary exclaimed and then showed a mischievous smile.

‘When you are an observer and sit high up at the audience seat, you act as you please without considering people’s emotion, you are cruel towards others as you decide the fate for all around you, but now... it’s time for you to be on stage! Please don’t embarrass yourself too much!’

Bloody Mary disappeared into the void with its own mischievous intentions.

...

Cough, cough, cough!

Cabio couldn’t straighten his waist as the fierce cough kept him down. He wanted to maintain his dignity but with the coughs troubling him, it made him curl up like a shrimp, especially under the fiery scene, as if the shrimp was almost cooked and ready to be eaten.

Cabio glanced over the priests who kept a distance from him, feeling a sense of malicious intent on their faces.

‘Leave! He must leave! He couldn’t stay any longer!’

The thought appeared in his mind and swiftly became his priority.

He couldn’t stay.

Why not go to Mortor?

It was useless, Cabio had been infected, would Mortor see him now?

Cabio’s only hope left was his Majesty, the God of War!

He had to find a quiet place and pray to the God of War!

With that thought in mind, Cabio discarded his hesitation.

He could feel the weakness in his body growing and if he stayed any longer, he would have to stay for good.

As for the consequences? It would be a no-brainer.

Cabio glanced over the burning storeroom.

If he could burn people alive, so could others to him, and he didn’t want a fiery end.

Sou!

Moving so fast that he left an afterimage of himself on the spot, Cabio vanished.

It was only when Cabio vanished that the priests at the side regained their senses.

They saw the members of the Inquisition fallen down in a weak state, a weird feeling uncontrollably rising in their hearts.

“The sanction of fate?” asked the younger priest.

His voice sounded very prominent beside the fiery storeroom, but after the priests looked at each other, they became silent.

They were thinking and... tacitly acknowledged what the younger priest said.

They were still recalling the scene that happened just now.

They did not stop those poor infected patients, but Cabio did.

Then, Cabio, who was much more powerful than they were, got infected and they remained untouched by the plague.

No matter how they viewed it, it struck them a strange feeling but it also had a sense of unknown resonance.

“Maybe it’s really fate. ‘He’ couldn’t bear watching this anymore.”

This dungeon world did not have a so-called God of Fate, but the oldest among the priests said as such and none of his colleagues argued about that.

After the oldest priest finished, he looked at his colleagues and he was greeted with nods.

The priest then continued, “We need to report this to Lord Mortor, tell him exactly what happened here.”

The other priests got the order and nodded once more.

Yes, tell the bishop in council EXACTLY what happened here.

The important matters must be reported meticulously and the less important ones should be opted out from the reports, such as their own sense of compassion.

Perhaps it wasn’t really compassion, it was just a feeling that made them feel pity for others.

The feeling that brought them good luck.

Those that shouldn’t be in the public eye would naturally be opted out, but what was opted out still existed, so they had to bury it deep in their hearts.

Then? What they buried in their hearts would certainly sprout.

As time went by, it would certainly sprout.

It might be a very, VERY, long process but it would come.

And if someone gave it a push, the sprouting speed would surely be faster.

...

Mortor received the news several minutes later.

He was stunned for several seconds before he punched heavily on the table.

Bang!

“Damn it!” The heavy thump was accompanied by cursing from the bishop in council.

He didn’t verbally vent his anger, but he really hoped that Cabio could simply drop dead in his heart.

He had never been so disappointed in a person, Cabio was definitely the first!

Aside from screwing up a very simple mission, that idiot made things countless times more complicated!

Mortor could already picture the upcoming matters that he had to face.

When the infected patients revealed to the public what happened there, the believers of God of War would surely plunge into panic!

There’s a high possibility that the core of the faith would be shaken!

No! He could not allow this to happen!

With the thought in mind, he gave an order.

“Tell the public Bishop Cabio is a spy from that Demon God. He released the plague in the cathedral and he himself decided to burn the infected believers of our Lord. Everything is his fault!” A little pause later, the bishop in council added, “Mobilize everyone that we have and hunt Cabio down. No need to capture him alive, kill on sight!”

“Yes sir!” the oldest priest among the group replied solemnly and then left the room.

Bang!

The door was heavily shut and with a loud thud, the old priest couldn’t help but sigh.

Sigh!

He looked up at the pure white moon and eagerly moved away from the room behind him, as if the room had the filthiest and baddest in the whole realm.

Under normal condition, a mere door could never block Mortor’s senses, he could clearly hear what happened outside his door but he was concentrating in the communication with the God of War, therefore he did not notice the sigh from outside the door.

So, it had been determined that something would change.

Lose a nail, lose a horseshoe; lose a horseshoe, lose a horse; lose a horse, lose a king; lose a king, lose a war; lose a war, lose a kingdom.

At first, everything started because of that little knight who wished to live.

But now?

That little knight was bringing the people around him running beyond the walls of Edatine.

The number of people that Gino led away was less than half of the initial number, albeit when they broke out of the fiery storeroom, more than half of them had fallen in front of the door.

As for the rest who managed to escape, they helped each other.

The young Gino carried a weak patient on his back and tied another one around his neck using his belt. Everyone else tried their best to help each other.

They were a disaster to the eyes, but their eyes were burning a flame unlike before.

It was clear and bright.

“Hold on everyone. We are almost there. The Mist will surely save us!” said young Gino.

He wasn’t doing this without a reason, it was what the voice in his head told him.

The Mist would be the place where they would be saved in the end.

Until now, the young Gino had no idea where the voice in his head came from, he wasn’t sure whether the voice was friendly or hostile, he even speculated that the voice came from a certain emissary of the ‘God’.

As for the God himself? Impossible.

He didn’t think a petty character like himself was all that important to capture the attention of a God, an emissary of God would be more plausible.

Though he deeply knew being watched over wasn’t exactly a good thing, the voice must have a reason or a goal to achieve... but the voice had never lied to him!

More importantly, the bishop of the Mist religious sect!

Whenever he thought of the warm smile of that bishop, the young Gino couldn’t help but feel strengthened.

‘If it’s Bishop Simon, he will be able to save us!’

The young Gino somehow held a strong belief in ‘Bishop Simon’.

When did the confidence in ‘Bishop Simon’ appear in his heart?

Young Gino had no idea as well.

Maybe it was when Gino swung his sword at Bishop Simon in front of the city gate and the bishop did not dodge his sword at all, even smiling at him.

“Maybe this voice is from the emissary of ‘him’! Bishop Simon must have a way around this!”

That thought in his mind hastened Gino’s steps.

Instantly, the people around him were infected by his confidence, seeming to have sped up too.

The group of infected patients did not go unnoticed along the way, but their War God Temple attire allowed them to safely reach the Lower Ring.

Following the appearance of Calamity and Mist, the light of God of War had gone weak, but was not totally dark.

No one would be crazy enough to provoke them, except for one of their own from War God Temple!

As a matter of fact, Gino was worried that they might be hunted down by the other War God Temple deacons, but even after they saw the Mist camp, there wasn’t a single pursuer on their tail.

“Thank Go-”

One of the infected deacons prayed out of instinct but right after the words escaped his mouth, he cut them off and smiled bitterly.

Was he still receiving protection from the God of War?

When that fire burned in the storeroom, everything changed.

What else could he say? Self-deception?

Whatever, it didn’t matter anymore.

There was someone that was worthy of his gratitude more than the God who abandoned him.

“Thank you Gino,” said the Deacon.

“Thank you Gino.”

“Thank you Gino.”

...

After the many thanks from the infected patients, the young knight slightly lowered his head.

He dared not look at them with their sincere gazes. All he did was try his best to help them out to decrease the guilt in his heart, anything that would make him feel better.

So he only nodded and kept quiet as he carried the patient on his back to the Mist camp.

“Who goes there!” The guards stopped the young knight and the infected, but they did not further obstruct them because Bloody Mary was already there.

In fact, not only Bloody Mary, even the old Demon Hunter Anderson, Sivalka, and the others were there.

Sivalka showed heavy vigilance in his eyes at Gino and the infected.

After experiencing the Black Cataclysm for himself, Sivalka feared the plague more than anything.

Or rather, those who had never seen a whole town die overnight could never understand Sivalka’s fear.

So, when Bloody Mary walked towards Gino and the infected, Sivalka stopped it right away.

“Lord bishop, the plague.”

He wasn’t loud, but clear enough.

The guards instantly showed fear, consciously stepping back. The guards would never take a step back against the most ferocious enemies but against the plague?

No matter how brave a person was, he could never win against an enemy that he couldn’t see.

The reaction from the guards caused Gino and the others to skip a beat in their hearts.

The anticipation on their faces was frozen.

Even the last place of hope would fail them?

Hope was going down the drain, despair rose again, it was a very bad feeling.

Without experiencing hope, one would never know how scary despair was, even the young Gino couldn’t help but pucker his lips.

He was worried that the unacceptable scene would happen, he was worried that he would fall into the abyss.

Fortunately, what he was worried about did not happen.

With a warm smile, Bloody Mary walked to them without pause.

“I know, but I am willing to bear the burden. I am willing to accept everything for them, even death.” After the words, Bloody Mary stood in front of the young Gino and placed its hand over his forehead.

“Are you tired? Don’t worry, you can have a good rest now, I am here.”

White radiance shone from Bloody Mary.

The light was dazzling and bright under the night sky, causing everyone to squint their eyes or look away.

When everyone regained their sight, the white radiance had faded, but an astonishing scene appeared.

The infected, who were weak before, were able to stand still once more.

Those who were unconscious woke up.

The plague... had been cured!

It was cured?!

Everyone looked at the scene with utmost disbelief.

“I-Is everyone okay?” Gino stuttered.

“I am no longer weak.”

“Me either.”

“Me too!”

Affirmative answers sounded one after another, the once infected patients that escaped the fiery storeroom of War God Temple were basking in joy.

“This is great! This is great!” muttered the young Gino. His tears covered his eyes and then rolled down his cheeks.

Blame, guilt, and regret almost crushed the young knight.

Now? He felt a little better.

In the end, only by experiencing despair would one know how precious hope was.

While Gino wept behind his hands, he heard the clunks of armors and rustling of clothes. When he moved his hand away from his weeping face, he saw the people kneeling down in front of him on one knee.

Everyone looked solemn and serious.

“We can’t express our feelings with words but we will follow you with our action. We hereby swear,” said everyone in one voice.

“It’s not me, it’s Bishop Simon... What’s wrong, Bishop Simon?”

The young knight waved his hands repeatedly, looking at Bishop Simon before he realized the bishop looked pale and was wobbling.

“I-I am fine,” the comforting words came out of its mouth arduously and right after the words faded, it fell down on the ground.

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