"Don't look so glum, this is a good thing, you know?" Terentia murmured as she sat down next to him.

Alexander sighed. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her efforts to console him. Terentia's help was the main reason he was able to overcome his initial regrets and doubts, after all.

But the problem he was facing wasn't something that a friendly face and a little empathy could fix.

He hadn't personally taken part in burning Eztie's temple since he was still considered unproven, and the Circle's leaders probably still suspected him.

That, however, didn't mean he didn't feel responsible, since he was the one who made sure the local Sashara temple was too busy to notice the setup.

In his mind, he bore much of the blame for the dead priests. They might have been fools worshipping a parasite, but he had been just like them once. He would have preferred to convert them rather than kill them.

"Easy for you to say," he said, gazing down at his half-eaten bowl of porridge. The meals weren't very good when they were constantly on the move, but he didn't complain, knowing that dangerous people were searching for them. Setting up a semi-permanent camp at this point would have been suicide.

Terentia didn't get offended easily, which was probably why she still tried to talk to him when most others had given up. "Is this about your faith?" She asked gently, placing a hand on his arm.

Alexander had to hold back the snarl threatening to escape. Snapping at her wouldn't help his reputation, and this was a fire he had to smother quickly. "No, I have given up on Her. I don't care about what happens to the gods. It's the humans I feel sorry for. Not all of those priests had to die."

"You know why we had to do it this way. If even one survived the ritual, he would have immediately tattled on us, and we aren't ready to go public, not yet. It's a necessary sacrifice."

He wanted to push back, he really did. He'd left Sashara's temple because he had discovered just how hypocritical and uncaring she was, so he shouldn't have trouble pointing out when his new organization behaved the same way.

But looking into Terentia's bright blue eyes, watching the shape of her lovely lips draw nearer, feeling her breath on his skin…

Once again, Alexander closed his eyes and let go, overwhelmed by the pounding beat of his own heart.

I will mention this later, before the next planning session.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Bo sneered.

Alexander didn't even blink. He'd seen things this man couldn't hope to understand, and just because he was a bit taller and more muscular didn't mean he would let himself be pushed around, especially after learning that he wasn't that high up, being just the last recruit before Alexander himself.

"I'm always present for these meetings," he replied, even as he felt Terentia's hand on his back, lending him strength.

She was truly the best thing that ever happened to him. She alone made abandoning his path worth it.

Alright, enough. We've got the next orders," Immanuel grunted, cutting off any more jockeying.

Everyone fell quiet. The Circle of Pure Souls was a motley crew, made up of everything from ex-priests like Alexander to victims of religious persecution, and even some who had escaped the temples as youths after realizing the true nature of the gods.

Such a group lacked discipline in almost all areas, but they all respected Immanuel, the short, irritable man covered in tattoos from head to toe, who was the only link between their cell and the rest of the organization. They had all seen him fight the Justice, overwhelming a man very close to Prestige with only the powers granted to him by his tattoos.

That alone was enough to make them fall silent, especially if he had their new marching orders.

We've been roaming the southern grasslands for a week, dodging pursuers and muddying our tracks, but we can't keep this up much longer. The next Justice they send after us won't be a young one like the one Immanuel killed.

They were getting dangerously close to the Sunlands now, and Alexander knew that as soon as they entered one of the cities there, Eztie's priests would find them.

Whatever could be said about their more underhanded dealings, they knew how to spot the guilty, and the entire Circle was composed of murderers.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Lord Westcott has declared that it is time for our newest recruit to earn his ink."

A much deeper hush settled, and Alexander felt everyone's gaze upon him. Even Terentia seemed surprised, though she offered him a proud smile, which helped quell his unease.

He wanted to raise his doubts about being so indiscriminate in killing priests, but if he was to finally get his tattoos... It meant he had a chance to prove himself.

"When?" He asked hoarsely. He'd been waiting for this moment for weeks. He'd done everything required of him, from freely sharing information about Sashara's faith's secrets to acting as a distraction to keep the temple in Honeyton busy while the others worked.

Finally, he would be rewarded for it. Terentia's hand on his back felt like a warm reassurance that everything would be okay. That his struggles to get this far had been for a reason, and not just a reaction to what he'd been forced to endure at Sashara's hands.

"We have reliable information that a group of Eztie's pilgrims will be traveling north from the Sunlands in the next few days. They are coming to restore the temple in Honeyton and expand their presence in the newly established Crowley Barony. Your mission will be to stop them before they can make contact with Quack's forces."

Alexander smoothly transitioned from being a helper in setting up operations to assuming a leadership role. It was his one shot to earn his ink, and he wouldn't waste it. He couldn't, not after he'd been given a chance at revenge.

"We have eyes on them," Terentia told him, stopping just a few feet away. She seemed eager to get closer, to touch him, but she understood this moment was critical for his future in the Circle, so she held back to make sure he got all the credit for this operation.

He appreciated it, though he still longed to feel her warm hands on his skin. "That's good. Any change to the group's composition?"

She shook her head, "No, our intel was accurate. They are four mid-level priests hiding as pilgrims and four actual lay brothers."

"That's good. I was wondering whether this was a layered trap, but if it's just four of them, we'll be okay," he muttered, rubbing his arm where an alchemical patch had been applied in preparation for the tattooing.

"We will be, but we should start moving if we want to catch them before they reach the rendezvous point," Terentia reminded him, and Alexander nodded.

"Yes, it is time." Then, turning to address the others, he raised his voice, "Prepare to move out! I want to catch them before they can enter the grassland proper!"

And with that, every member of the Circle who wasn't busy scouting or shielding them from divination began marching.

Their temporary camp had been set at the very end of the southern grassland, where the last reaches of the Green Ocean merged with the rolling hills, creating a maze perfect for hiding, but now they needed to move east, where they would be out in the open.

If Alexander had been alone, he would have already been dead. He knew one spell to hide from magical sight, but it wouldn't have helped against the powerful divination used by those searching for them.

But with the help of the Circle's dedicated mages, they could move around with ease.

Honestly, I couldn't have imagined such an organization could exist, especially after seeing Her. But their ability to stay hidden for so long shows how good they are. Or rather, we are.

Alexander was about to be fully inducted into the organization, after all. He couldn't think of himself as a separate entity.

Sometimes, I wonder if I have just replaced one kind of chains with another, but then I remember… No matter their methods, these people are fighting against the parasites that call themselves gods. That's not something I can criticize. Ever.

"We're close," Terentia warned him, ghosting her fingers along his arm. He smiled at her before reaffirming his conviction.

"I can see them," he said, looking down the tall hill they had just climbed. The Sunlands began rather abruptly, as the gentle sway of grass that made up the northern region gave way to sun-baked clay and rocky hills, which were carved up by the many rivulets that flowed from the grassland into canyons.

It was the ideal spot for an ambush, so everyone anticipated they would attack now.

Under different circumstances, Alexander would have avoided doing what was expected. It was just foolish to think that an enemy already traveling under false pretenses wouldn't be ready for an attack now.

But the morsel was too juicy, and if they waited any longer and let them enter the grassland, they would have to fight in an open field.

We wouldn't lose, not with Immanuel watching over us in case anything goes wrong. But I don't want my first mission to be a failure; I need it to be a complete victory to maximize my tattoos.

The pilgrims didn't seem like much, but then again, Eztie's priests couldn't accept donations directly. Everything they got had to go to the temple or community efforts to keep justice up. This made them very popular with the peasants, but it also meant they had to wear nothing fancier than a simple robe.

Since it had been confirmed that no Justice was among them, Alexander felt confident about his chances, but again, he wasn't aiming for just a simple victory. He had a secret weapon, after all.

Divine Devouring Flames [Proficient]

The result of true loathing for a fire deity. These flames feed on consuming holy power and will grow as long as there is hatred to fuel them.

"Long-range, get ready," he murmured, even as fire mana began to gather at his command. Learning to separate his spells from his worship of Sashara had been a tough challenge, but he stuck with it, and now he was finally able to cast again without fear of being noticed by Her.

The pilgrims kept moving through the canyon, warily looking up at the surrounding cliffs, aware that if an ambush were to strike, it would now.

Terentia stepped back, and he missed her warmth, but he didn't look away. He had to prove he had what it took— to everyone, to her, and to himself.

"I don't like this," one of the pilgrims said, probably sensing the echoes of the mana buildup.

"Wha—"

His companion didn't even get a chance to finish his phrase because Alexander took it as his cue to attack.

The fire that escaped his hands was dark, a result of his effort to keep any divine influence from touching his soul. It crossed the distance in a single second, engulfing the lay brother who had been speaking and reducing him to cinders.

The rest of the devout didn't waste time, as shields of golden mana embossed with Eztie's scales rose around them, and chants began as they prayed to their god for aid.

"It won't work," Alexander murmured as he gazed into the dark flames that were spreading even now, consuming the divine energy. "They never care enough."

A whistling in the wind told him that his companions were joining the fight, and the already strained shields started cracking under the continuous barrage of magical arrows and bolts.

Soon, the priests had to reveal themselves, lest they be swallowed. Golden power surrounded their bodies as they called on their divine connection, allowing them to move away from the choke point.

Of course, that only led them into the next planned ambush, where the rest of the Circle was waiting for them.

Alexander knew it was already over, as he felt the System ping him with the death of the four lay brothers. He could have let his comrades finish the job.

But he didn't. This was a clean break from his old life, and he could feel Terentia's eyes on him, watching his every move.

Without bothering to look at the charred corpses he'd made, Alexander jumped down the canyon, using his dark flames to assist his descent, and fell upon the priests.

Their screams of pain as his fires consumed them felt less like a sin and more like peeling off a scab.

I am my own man now.