NOVPUB
Chapter 43: 43:The Might of Single Slash.
The Archbishop of the Holy Cathedral of Prosperity, Gregor Althaus, sat in his grand chamber, his eyes locked onto the cold man before him.
His ever-present smile remained, but there was a sharp glint of menace beneath it. "To what do I owe the honor of the Grand Duke’s personal visit?" he asked, his voice smooth, laced with hidden arrogance.
Ruth didn’t waste time on pleasantries. He reached into his coat, pulled out a stack of documents, and slammed them onto the table. "You owe me an answer," he said, his tone flat, devoid of emotion.
Gregor picked up the papers, skimming through them with a slight shift in his expression before placing them back down. "I don’t understand," he said, still smiling. "What seems to be the problem, Grand Duke?"
Ruth’s cold eyes narrowed. "You don’t understand, or you don’t want to?"
The Archbishop chuckled, stroking his beard. "Why would I refuse to understand when there is no problem? The church survives on donations, given willingly by the faithful. We do not force anyone, Grand Duke. The City Lord himself has contributed generously. If you have an issue, perhaps you should speak with him instead."
Ruth remained silent for a moment, his gaze icy. Then, he scoffed. "You think I don’t know? Do you think I’m blind, like the last fool who let your rotting filth put their hands on my land? I will ask once."
"Spit everything you have engulfed."
Gregor shook his head, still wearing that practiced, saintly smile. "The funds were given to us willingly by believers to aid the servants of the Goddess. Every coin is spent on the welfare of the suffering. The sick, the starving, the abandoned—you wouldn’t want to take food from their mouths, would you, Grand Duke?"
Ruth folded his arms, unmoved. "Are you giving it back or not?"
For the first time, Gregor’s smile flickered. He leaned forward, voice dropping to a low whisper, his words dripping with venom. "Grand Duke, you shouldn’t be so stubborn. Did you forget how your stubbornness drove your wife to madness? "
"Or how your unyielding nature nearly led to the death of an innocent child by hands of his own moth-’
He hadn’t even finished his sentence when the air in the room turned deadly still. Gregor’s instincts screamed at him, but it was too late.
BOOOOOOOOM!
A cross-shaped beam of light erupted from Ruth’s as he drew his sword swiftly, cutting through the air with a deafening roar.
The very force of it blasted Gregor backward, sending him crashing through his ornate chair which erupted with a blinding light.
The chamber was instantly reduced to ruins—the golden chandeliers exploded into fragments, marble columns cracked and crumbled, and the grand stained-glass windows shattered into razor-sharp shards that rained down like deadly needles.
The cathedral trembled as the shockwave surged outward, obliterating everything in its path.
The beam of light ripped through the ceiling, creating a massive gash in the sky as it shot straight upward.
Outside, the force of the blast sent a ripple through the city having roofs were torn off, trees were uprooted, and even the nearby buildings shook as if an earthquake had struck.
People screamed and scrambled for cover, shielding their eyes from the blinding light that illuminated the entire horizon.
Gregor coughed, blood dripping from his lips as he struggled to push himself up. The divine energy crackled around Ruth like a storm, his face as cold and unreadable as ever.
There were no words, no emotion, just pure destruction.
The Grand Duke had made his answer clear.
As the thick smoke cleared, Gregor remained seated, his body stiff. His breath hitched when he saw it—a black sword lodged just inches from his ear, its blade radiating a dark, sinister aura.
His fingers trembled as he realized the gravity of what had just happened. A few inches to the left, and he wouldn’t have even had a corpse to be buried.
His gaze snapped to Ruth, whose cold expression remained unchanged.
The Grand Duke barely spared him a glance as he grasped the hilt and pulled the sword back, sheathing it with a quiet click.
"Archbishop Gregor," Ruth’s voice was calm, but there was an edge of warning in it. "You should keep your tongue in check... or else."
Ruth turned, pacing around the ruined chamber, his presence suffocating. He stopped suddenly, his aura darkening, waves of killing intent rolling off him. Gregor stiffened.
"I don’t care which god you worship," Ruth said, his tone colder than death itself. "But know your place."
As he stepped out of the ruined chamber, the very foundations of the cathedral trembled. Cracks spread through the towering walls, and with a low groan, parts of the ceiling began to crumble. The once-grand hall, a symbol of divine power, now stood desecrated by a single man’s presence.
Gregor clenched his fists, his expression twisting with anger. He grounded his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm. This wasn’t about money. The Grand Duke had come here for one reason which was to send a warning.
A warning to stay out of his affairs.
A warning that if the church laid its hands on his territory again, there would be no second chances.
It was just a single strike.
A single slash, even that though was controlled greatly yet it almost destroyed the entire church.
Gregor took a deep breath, then raised his hands, clasping them in silent prayer. The glow of divine energy flickered around him, a frail attempt to suppress the storm raging inside.
"Calm down," he murmured to himself. "This is a test..."
"Everything was the Goddess’s will. Nothing happened without her divine plan. And anyone who dared to go against her whether they were nobles, monarchs, or even men like the Grand Duke, they would face her judgment and wrath."
"Just like the heretics," he whispered, his voice laced with conviction.
......
"OOOOOHUUUUU!" Kael whistled, watching the spectacle unfold before him. His eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Awesome," he muttered, arms crossed. "That was some next-level shit."
"Hah!" Ramos scoffed, shaking his head. "You think this is impressive? If you had seen me in my prime, you might’ve lost your sanity." He smirked, running a hand through his graying hair.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? I bet the only thing impressive about your prime was the number of brothels you wasted money in."
Ramos’s smirk vanished. His eyes turned bloodshot as he glared at Kael. "What did you just say?"
Kael, unfazed, turned to Joseph, a grin tugging at his lips. "It looks like your church just pissed off the wrong man," he chuckled. "You’re in for some fun times ahead."
Joseph scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Hmph! Only time will tell."
Meanwhile, Kael strode toward Gare and Baret, who were tending to his wounds. As he approached, Baret straightened up and asked, "My Lord, why did you pretend not to recognize Lord Ramos?"
Kael tilted his head, feigning confusion. "Would you believe me if I said I have dementia?"
Gare and Baret exchanged a glance.
If you don’t want to say it, then don’t say it...
Baret sighed. "My Lord, you should consider befriending Lord Ramos. Having him on your side might help secure your position as the heir."
Kael frowned. "Why?"
Baret chuckled. "Because, my Lord, everyone in the estate respects him. He’s the flag bearer of many noble houses, and even the Monarch himself granted him a title."
Kael’s curiosity piqued. "Oh? What title?"
Baret smirked. "A lone wolf amongst a lion’s herd."
