Chương 178: 169. Back

I slowly finished explaining to Q'Shar everything that had happened. Almost a whole day had passed since we got out, and most of the time was spent in a blur of chaotic questions, with church priests running around healing the wounded. Some went straight to rest, others to rejoin their families, while others were sent to inform the loved ones of those who died.

In the end, out of the seventy-two people who ended up trapped in the underground tunnels, thirty made it out alive, with the church and the Third Chamber making up most of the survivors. There was most likely a political shitstorm coming, and many new tensions would follow after some powerful families lost their leaders, but that was just one of the many small drops of chaos that would fall onto our heads soon.

"So how was it on your end?" I asked Q'Shar once it looked like he'd processed my words.

"Not good," the cat groaned.

"The Miracle-Bringers didn't care much about the group by the audience seats, and they let us charge out with relatively few casualties. Then they used concentrated poison to cut us off. We'd wanted to charge back right away to help others once we organized, but... some argued we should just run." I frowned.

"That's unexpected."

"Yeah, you'd think with a mage's pride it wouldn't be like that. But there were a few screamers in the crowd arguing that 'it's the church's fault and we shouldn't die for them.' They were silenced after a while, but it took time."

"Wait... those who argued—""They ran away after the attack. We managed to catch a few, but they used suicide spells before we could question anyone. All we managed to learn was that the group was the Miracle-Bringers. One of them let it slip before taking himself out." I sighed.

"Necromancy?" I asked, slightly hopeful.

"The spell they used obliterates the head." The cat shook his head.

"Others don't carry soul-catching devices at their belts."

"Well, they should," I grumbled before closing my eyes and letting my thoughts settle. Q'Shar continued once I looked back at him.

"Once we organized a push, all that was left of the enemy were a few small groups holding the tight passages, meant to slow us down. Each time, the same song and dance—hold us using explosions and poisons, then suicide, rinse, repeat. Once the cardinals outside figured out what happened, it was already a few hours after you went into the tunnels. I immediately sent others to check every place in the Old Vatican for, well... anything."

"Smart."

"Yeah. It turned out they burned down the mortal part of the archive before running away. Thankfully, we got there in time to save the documentation, but the scriptures and books were lost."

"Why do that?" I frowned.

"No idea," the cat shook his head.

"The cardinal said nothing of importance was there, but it will take a lot of time to make a list of all the books and scrolls that burned."

"Pressure them to speed it up. They wouldn't burn down an archive just for the sake of it."

"My thoughts exactly," the cat agreed.

"So what now?"

"The pope will give a speech soon, but it doesn't look good. People are pissed. We might lose the Sabbath as a whole. Any new council would be unstable and take ages to organize. It's hard to say, and you might not like it, but we need to prop up the church for now. Make sure the Sabbath stays as is." He said, looking me in the eyes.

"Sure," I agreed. The cat frowned.

"That was quick. Did the pope put a spell on you or something?" I smiled.

"Clementus and I are buddies now, actually." Q'Shar looked at me flatly.

"Sure. He used you to get to his goal, and you're friends."

"I can appreciate a dick move like that," I said with a smile.

"And it did end up paying off."

"Mhm."

"And you'll have to send someone after Riswalts. The skinwalker was among them. I'm sure—""Emmanuel's dead," the cat broke in.

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"One of his extended family members slit his throat after the attack. The message left with the body was 'A debt paid.' The culprit used the same suicide spell as the cultists had." I slapped my hand into my own face. I should have seen that coming. The skinwalker's carrier wasn't a victim. He volunteered in exchange for revenge. No wonder the mimicry was so good—from mannerisms to magic. The "victim" most likely provided all the information himself.

"Oh fuck. Do you know if the inside faction of Albert Riswalt was involved?"

"No, but... after you said Albert was the carrier, some people loosened up. He was most likely Emmanuel's bastard." I sighed.

"Is it a good thing he's dead? I mean, I'm happy, but politically speaking."

"Yes and no. Riswalts will have Emmanuel's brother as the leader. On one side, he's less of an asshole, but on the other, he's less skilled. We don't know what to expect. Not to mention, after putting in their chips with the church, I doubt nobles will follow Riswalts this easily now. Any other time their weakening would be good, but—" If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

"We don't need more chaos now," I finished for him.

"Do you know who will take the lead now?" The cat shook his head.

"There are a few candidates. Some cultivators are moving for the position."

"Can you push for D'Arcs?" I asked. Q'Shar tilted his head.

"Is she good?"

"She was quite decisive in the singularity, up to a point. But she doesn't seem to be the kind to scheme."

"Sure. Let's hope they stabilize now that we have a common enemy," the cat said, sighing deeply, letting silence fall over the room. We sat there in comfortable stillness as I gazed at the ceiling, processing everything. Being out of the nightmare city still felt like a strange dream. I checked the time a couple of times to make sure everything was in order, but the clocks—electrical, mechanical, and magical—worked fine. The sky had a moon hanging high in place of the yellowish glow.

Everything was relatively normal, so much so that it was almost unnerving.

"I'm glad you're back," I heard Q'Shar say from the side, with the professional demeanor gone, replaced by a light smile that didn't fit the tired eyes above it.

"Yeah. Makes two of us." We didn't say more to one another. We just sat there, enjoying the company.

The entire next day was spent scrambling to write reports and trying to get the people who had gone back to return for the pope's announcement, even to the point of sending private jets after a few of the families. The chaos of the arcane world was matched by that of the mortal world, already on edge due to mana, and now theories of terrorism and other wild assumptions were flying around.

The cats were doubly busy trying to fend off the mortal agencies' investigations while juggling what was going on with the Sabbath. They were so busy that even I got involved in politics, replacing Q'Shar at some meetings. Well, "replacing" Q'Shar was an exaggeration—I was there as a representative, and Ophelia stood in for the cat after receiving extensive instructions. I happily let my apprentice take the lead in the talks, especially when explaining the losses resulting from my decisions in the singularity.

We had bad blood with a few groups, but thankfully, the druids were understanding, apparently judging a skinwalker to be enough of a threat to justify my decision-making. Finally, the Sabbath got answers from the families who returned home, and by the next morning, almost anyone interested in what the church had to say was back. Not in full force, as many just sent representatives. Normally, that would be an offense to the authority of the Sabbath, but right now that seemed to be low on the priority list.

We sat down in the auditorium on makeshift seating, as the original had been turned to dust. The remains of the battle were all around us. The church organized people to remove the blood and poison, but remaking the structures and removing wide cuts going across the walls and floors would take much more time. The smell of fire, blood, and poison still seemed to linger despite the magic used to cleanse the place.

Judging by the number of people around, about eighty percent came back to hear the pope, with a quarter of those present being simply representatives and servants made to repeat the speech or summarize it for the family heads. It wasn't looking good. Funny enough, almost all of the Third Chamber was still present after we insisted on it. Apparently, the warlock did us some good publicity, and coming through the singularity with my people mostly unscathed further cemented the Alhazred clan's position as the leader.

Within a faction that respected magical prowess, no one openly whined that we should have been better protected, even if a few people died on our side. The pope finally came out with Helga, the Jester, and other cardinals trailing behind. Once the others were seated, Clementus approached the speaking podium. He lifted the crosier into the air, but then stopped and put it down gently without ringing the bell. He leaned it against the railing and, taking a deep breath, spoke.

"My brothers and sisters of the Sabbath, I stand before you today not as a man untouched by what has happened, not as a distant voice speaking from behind sacred titles, but as one who bled beneath the same terror that attacked us all. And because I lived, while so many better souls did not, I owe you the truth. We failed you. So hear me clearly—I am sorry." As he said that, he bowed his head slightly. His soft yet firm voice echoed like thunder in the hall.

The pope apologizing to a room of lower representatives was unheard of. Q'Shar snapped his head toward me, surprised. I told him the pope wasn't who he thought he was, but he clearly didn't expect this.

"The Church failed to see the knife before it was at our throat," he continued.

"We failed to uncover traitors who hid in our own holy offices. We failed to stop the enemy before blood stained our halls and poison filled our lungs. For that failure, I will not offer excuses dressed as explanations. I will not hide behind ceremony. They struck because they believed fear would finish what their spells began. They struck because they believed that if enough blood was spilled, the factions of our world would turn upon one another like starving wolves." He gave a small pause before continuing.

"And already, I hear the whispers. The Church is weak. The Sabbath is broken. Let each faction guard its own. That is the second attack. That is the blow meant to land after the first. And that blow will kill far more than any bomb, any ritual, or any poison ever could. Because our enemy does not merely seek our deaths. They seek the death of shared purpose!" He shouted the last two words, then let the silence hang.

"But those values are not lost! When we evacuated, we did not reach safety but instead reached the depths beneath this city. With brave souls beside me," he gave me a look, to which I elbowed the cat.

"Eeeh, see? I told you we're buddies now." I said, earning a confused gaze from the animal.

"We walked through darkness, ruin, and terror. And there, in the buried heart of the church, by providence and by sacrifice, we found what many believed lost to history itself. The blood of the saint. A weapon against corruption. A foundation upon which we will rebuild what was broken. With it, new, more powerful altars shall be raised. At those altars, priests shall swear themselves in sanctified bonds, allowing no treachery.

We will raise a clergy more loyal, more accountable, and more worthy of the trust placed in them. And any who have any thought of betrayal or double allegiance shall be cast down into the deepest pits of hell. That I swear to you upon all that is sacred in this world. We shall spill the blood of the traitors and ensure the safety of these proceedings once more." I could see some people in the crowd nod their heads absently.

"The authority of the Sabbath will not be surrendered to terror, to factional pride, or to traitors in ceremonial robes. The Sabbath exists because this world, divided as it is by custom, bloodline, doctrine, and power, still requires a center. It exists because when darkness rises, someone must have the right to say—here we stand against it!" He once again paused, looking at everyone in the auditorium. His gaze swept over those present, seeming to look everyone in the eye.

Some nodded, some looked down in shame, and others held his gaze.

"This enemy does not care what banner you were born beneath. It does not care which faction taught you, armed you, judged you, or welcomed you. It will devour all of us, piece by piece, until there is nothing left but ruins in the coming chaos. So let us betray them instead. Let us deny them our division. Let us deny them our despair. I ask you to stand with the Sabbath still as we all come together against the coming tide, be it chaos or the cult of false miracles. We are hardest to kill when we stand together.

So I ask you to stand with me, and with one another." He finished. There was a lull as everyone stared at the man in disbelief. That lull was broken by my clapping, finally followed by thunderous applause. It was a good speech, but once the emotions faded, the church would still need to provide proof of its reorganization. And even if this prevented the collapse of the Sabbath, the families, organizations, and churches would still go back to scheming. Unity was a rare thing among those with power.

But it was clear the church now had a strong leader, hopefully strong enough for the Sabbath to endure. Now we would need to prepare for what was to come, keep an eye out for traitors, and hope to emerge victorious on the other side of the rapid changes to the world.