Pirate Phantom
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Chapter 82: A Hollow Sense of Loss
🕑 Added 2025-08-25 20:00:52 +0000 UTCTo be honest, it had been a long time since Miss Maria had felt such palpable hostility.
This Radiant Priest of the Sun was no fool.
On the contrary, he was very shrewd. He knew that in the wake of a calamity this grave, heads would roll. Surviving something so terrible made Maria, in his eyes, a dangerous anomaly. His instinct told him to seize control of the black-clad nun before she could seize it from him.
But first—he would observe her.
“Withdraw your order, Your Excellency.”
Just as he expected, Miss Maria rose once more to oppose him. Her cold, severe expression carried a natural weight, and the priest, instead of dismissing her, was almost curious to hear her reasoning.
“By the Sun above, nun—speak your reason.”
“The evil within that place is no ordinary threat, Your Excellency. Are the lives of several thousand souls not reason enough?”
“…”
Yes. Thousands of lives—stronger than any argument. The Flame Priest fell into a brief silence. His instincts told him Maria was right, but his duty compelled him to act. A sea of fire might already have left no survivors, but to leave it unchecked was no act befitting a proper servant of the Church.
“Want me to convince him?” Gehrman asked, eyes glinting with malice. “I’ve got special persuasion techniques. Direct ones.” He gave the priest a look of disdain. Gehrman had never had much patience for these stiff-necked clergymen.
“We’ve done all we can. It’s their turn now.”
Maria, who had stood in their way until now, withdrew. Her warning had been given.
Whether the Flame Priest sent Paladins into the blaze was his choice. In truth, Maria would almost prefer to see them try. Let that Silver-ranked priest feel the lingering corruption in Seth Town for himself.
She would not be the scapegoat. As long as the Radiant Church still stood, it had the duty to record this calamity faithfully, to warn those who would come after.
“Extinguish the fire.”
The order was finally given. The well-trained Paladins, aided by priests, prepared great atmospheric miracles to smother the blaze as swiftly as possible. The Noble Council’s Weavebinders, using the river that cut through Seth Town, prepared to summon a sudden cold rainfall once the flames were suppressed.
The orderly precision of it all was… almost beautiful.
“I doubt those things are all burned away.”
Gehrman stopped drinking and stuck a blade of grass between his teeth, worry flickering in his deep eyes. He had seen firsthand the resilience of the Corrupted. Even with the white mists gone and fire raging, it was hard to believe that every one of them had perished.
In truth, he was almost relieved.
That revolting, viscous white fog had empowered the Corrupted, but it had also trapped them. If thousands of plague-bearing creatures had spilled outward instead—what kind of nightmare would that have been?
And yet, what unsettled Gehrman most was that even with all his experience, he could not name the source of that loathsome, instinctively hateful power. Maria, however… she seemed to know. Every move she made had been meant to contain it.
“Perhaps…”
Maria leaned against a stone, half her eyes closed, like a sleeping beauty.
The sunlight caught her pale features, serene and untouchable. Even butterflies dared not disturb her stillness. Holding her sister Felia close, Maria seemed frozen in that fragile, eternal moment.
Gehrman rubbed his nose and stood quietly within the living painting.
Sleep, Maria. Sleep, beautiful and kind. May dreams that erase all pain soothe the wounds you bury in your heart.
A butterfly fluttered down, alighting silently upon her silver hair. A soft breeze brushed her flawless face.
……
She only meant to rest her eyes, but exhaustion claimed her.
Her mind sank into darkness, then resurfaced.
Maria knew she had dozed. Her body felt a little steadier. Her crimson eyes, still hazy, narrowed against the sunlight above. She could not tell how long she had slept, but it could not have been long.
“Mmh…”
Something stirred in her arms. Maria looked down.
Felia was awake—pouting, pressing her face into Maria’s chest with childlike defiance. Maria’s heart gave a jolt. She reached out, wanting to stroke her sister’s head.
“Felia.”
Smack!
Startled butterflies scattered.
Her hand was slapped away. Felia bit her lip, glaring at Maria with teary eyes. She seemed on the verge of shouting something, but swallowed the words. Emotion and reason warred within her; she could not bring herself to face her sister calmly.
“I hate you. I still hate you…”
“…”
The air grew heavy, awkward. Maria lowered her gaze, tugging at her lips in a strained smile. She recalled a saying she had once heard: a smile won’t make you smarter—but it won’t make you look like a fool, either.
Thankfully, someone arrived to break the tension.
A Paladin rode up, hooves striking the ground in crisp rhythm. Dismounting quickly, the young knight’s face was pale with unease. He had come from the charred ruins of Seth Town.
“Sister Maria—His Excellency the Priest and Sir Gehrman request your presence at once.”
“I understand.”
No questions, no wasted words. In front of others, Maria straightened her back and lifted her head, regaining that calm, noble poise. She clapped her hands, and the warhorse she had brought from Torrent City came trotting to her side.
With a flash of sharp elegance, Maria mounted and rode off at full gallop.
Felia, left behind, took a few hesitant steps after her. She watched her sister’s figure grow distant, a cool silhouette fading into the horizon.
Her heart ached with a hollow sense of loss.
Comments
Midnight
😕
Adam Daw
What a brat.
