When A Mage Revolts

Chapter 873: Repentance

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

A few days later, the great hall of the church in Havenwright was empty.

"Another bunch of bandits has disappeared. According to some of the tracks we have found, it is likely that they have entered the Mountains of Magic Beasts and joined the Black Nightmare Army," a bishop walked in hurriedly and stopped in the middle of the aisle, reporting the news he had just gathered with a small voice.

There was only Grant in the great hall, sitting on the bench in front. Hearing that, he turned his head.

"Black Nightmare Society... Have you found the accurate location of their station?"

"We’re found it," the bishop hurried over and bent down, carefully passing a piece of paper into Grant’s hands while speaking, "according to the reports of insiders, they have already amassed an army of tens of thousands in the mountains. Your Highness the Pope, we had best act with caution."

"I don’t need you to remind me of what needs to be done."

Grant took the paper and tossed out such words back at him, his face expressionless. The bishop’s face froze when he heard him.

He hastily bowed his head and took a few steps back, keeping his mouth shut tight as he waited on the side. He did not dare speak another word.

After Grant looked through the content of the paper, he was deep in thought for a while. Suddenly, he spoke. His tone of voice had changed, and he asked in a rather abrupt manner, "Right now, out there... are there many people speaking ill of me?"

The bishop was stunned for a moment, before he desperately shook his head in a hurry.

"Your, Your Highness the Pope, you are thinking too much!"

Hearing that, Grant gave a scoff that sounded neither delighted nor angry. His entire person was deep inside the luxurious, golden religious robes. He narrowed his eyes. For some reason, in the eyes of the bishop, he looked as though he no longer had his typical sharpness. Instead, he seemed to be somewhat weary.

Why...

Suspicion arose in the heart of the bishop.

"I’ve killed many people," Grant looked at his open palms, speaking.

"Those are people who should be killed."

Grant continued on, "I’ve made many wrong decisions."

"These are all god’s trials for us."

"I... have committed many sins. It’s impossible for even god to forgive me."

"A sincere prayer can cleanse all sins from our bodies," for some reason, the bishop was in a bit of a strange panic. He hurriedly gave his advice, "Your Highness the Pope, let us confess together. God will always forgive his most devout servant."

Grant was quiet for a few moments, before he put his hands together and closed his eyes. Seeing that, the bishop immediately closed his eyes as well, and began to recite the words of the prayer of confession, begging god to forgive their sins in an abnormally skillful manner.

Their low voices quietly reverberated in the empty church.

After half a minute.

"Go and do what you should be doing," Grant opened his eyes and stood up. HIs expression was back to the cold and hard look he had always had in past days, and walked directly out the main doors.

As his most trusted confidant, the bishop knew what his words meant. Because of that, while he watched Grant’s back as he left, he could not help but shake his head.

However, he spoke not a word. Out the back door he went, passing through long corridors to first procure something to eat from the kitchen, before coming to one of the most remote underground rooms in the cathedral.

He held the key and opened the big door. Iron bars, like those of a prison cell, could be seen vaguely inside the dark room.

"Eat," as though it was an official routine for daily meal times, the bishop walked over in a rather disdainful manner and placed the food next to the iron bars, speaking in an icy cold tone.

A white arm emerged from the shadows of the prison cell. It trembled as it took hold of the few pieces of bread, and slowly shrunk back in.

The bishop looked at the person hidden in the shadows, and in his disgust, he sighed.

"Consider yourself unlucky, I guess. Daring to talk back to His Highness the Pope under that kind of a situation, it’s already lucky enough for you that you did not die with them," he seemed to be talking to the person, but at the same time, also looked as though he was talking to himself. "However... everyone in the Church right now thinks you’re dead, but in the state you’re in now, you would be better off dead."

With the slight shifting of the big door to the underground room, a few more rays of light shone in and passed through the iron bars, falling upon the face of the person. A young face was revealed.

In actual fact, as a prisoner, his appearance was a little too clean. The pale blue irises violently contracted under the sunlight; his body shook after that, and his entire person shrunk back into the shadows inside.

The bishop had a deep impression towards this face. It seemed... that he was called Colwyn, something like that? He had been a priest who had just been transferred to the capital, but in the end, during the meeting of accountability after the outbreak of the poster incidents, the raging Pope, His Highness, had killed a few bishops in a single go. Everyone had kept silent out of fear, but this young man had tried to advise and stop the Pope, and ended up vaporized by Holy Light.

Everyone had thought he was dead, but only the bishop knew that his days were a living hell.

"...Just kill me."

Suddenly, a raspy voice, full of anguish, trailed out from inside.

"You dared to speak out at that sort of time, have you not heard about His Highness the Pope’s little obsession? What a waste, I’d had such high hopes for you from the start," the bishop shook his head for a moment, saying, "How can I kill you? His Highness still wants to use you. Moreover... even if you could die, this filthy body, fully stained with sin, can never go to heaven again. There’s only hell for you now."

As he spoke, he turned around, as though afraid that some dirty thing would latch onto him if he were to stay any longer. With quick footsteps, he left the underground room. The big doors were shut tightly, emitting a loud, ringing noise. Once again, sunlight was shut in tightly in this little underground room.

The bishop stood outside the doors, closing his eyes and begun to recite the prayer of confession.

After half a minute, the confession ended. The bishop seemed to be entirely renewed in spirit, and took big steps away from that place as though nothing had happened.

Sunlight streamed in through the courtyard, turning the corridor and the walls golden. It seemed warm.

At the same time.

"We had better move away from here quickly."

In the depths of the Mountains of Magic Beasts, within the largest tent of the Black Nightmare Army’s camp, gathered Morris, Joanna, six representative knights from the nobles, and the leaders of every rebel force. Benjamin looked at all of them, speaking with a grim face.

"What’s the situation? Are those priests coming to fight again?" Bill immediately looked shocked.

"It’s very likely," Benjamin nodded, saying, "I’ve just received news that this location is most probably compromised. It shouldn’t take too long before the great army of the Church begins to enter the Mountains of Magic Beasts. We need to move quickly."

Hearing that, everyone immediately exchanged looks. Some of them seemed extremely worried, but a few of the other mages from the academy were very calm. Some of them even had eager expressions.

"Then let’s fight them," Joanna immediately opened her mouth to speak, "We possess the advantage of the home ground and have progressed so far. Now, we have almost eighty thousand men. We won’t necessarily lose."

Hearing that, Benjamin shot back a question at her, "What are the chances of winning, you think?"

"En... Fifty percent, I guess."

"Then what’s the difference between that and gambling?" Benjamin was a little helpless. He shook his head and said, "We cannot take on this battle lightly. The Kingdom of Helius is so vast, and the enemy possess so many weaknesses. Why must we clash head on with them?"

"Then... where can we run?" Another leader of the forces immediately inquired.

A smile of confidence broke out on Benjamin’s face, as he said, "We run underground."

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