CHAPTER 316: 316

The tension broke suddenly when Vic’s voice rang out, shattering the cold silence.

"What the fuckkkk?!"

He pointed at the man’s grotesque face and sneered, "From which parlor did you get that manicure?!"

There was a beat of stunned silence, then the lipless man chuckled, the sound wheezing and raw.

"Insolent fool," he spat. "An illiterate parasite, clinging to vanity, dares mock the voice of the Goddess?"

He laughed again—high, twisted, inhuman.

Behind him stood four women, each more terrifying than the next. They wore long tattered robes, blindfolds made from iron rings nailed into their skulls, blood dripping slowly down their cheeks. Their mouths were carved into horrifying smiles, stretched grotesquely from ear to ear.

Ariana’s expression turned sharp. She recognized them.

"Everyone be careful!" she shouted, drawing her blade. "They control minds with songs! Cover your ears—NOW!"

Without wasting a second, the guards around Kael’s group reached into their pouches and began pulling out the special earplugs designed for mental resistance. Emilia fumbled with hers, trying to get them in while still holding Elfie tightly. Lyria did the same, her hands quick and trained.

Everyone followed suit.

The plugs were taken from the Church of God Of War.They don’t block sounds but the effect of mental corruption.

"Priest Praja..Leave them to us.."the other asked.

The lipless man Praja—chuckled darkly, watching them. "Do you really think our voice is our only gift?"

His tone turned deadly serious, and his eyes burned brighter. "I am Praja, faithful herald of the Crimson Goddess... and today, you shall all be offered to her glory."

He pointed at the setting sun.

"Tonight... will be remembered as the Crimson Night!"

Laughter echoed from behind him as the rest of the forest trembled. From the shadows, dozens,no, hundreds—of robed zealots stepped out, weapons in hand, eyes vacant but burning with madness. They howled and chanted, the twisted sound still bleeding through the silence even though most couldn’t hear it.

The faintest hum leaked into the ears of those gathered, and even with earplugs, a few could still feel it—the weight of the chant, the pounding rhythm like a heartbeat from beneath the earth.

"Don’t worry..You aren’t going to die alone..Others would too."

And with it came a horrifying realization.

Sacrifice.

They were going to sacrifice the entire town.

Innocents. Children. Everyone.

Ariana’s expression hardened, jaw clenched. She exchanged a tense glance with Seraphin, then with Vic, who for once was dead serious.

There were no smirks on his face.

"Move!" Ariana shouted, her voice cutting through the panic. She raised her sword and pointed it at the horde. "We end them here!"

Her command was the spark.

Steel clashed with steel. Screams and battle cries filled the air.

The warriors surged forward like a crashing tide, and the forest edge turned into a bloodbath. Zealots charged madly, swinging rusted blades and jagged weapons. Some threw themselves with no care for their life, trying only to stab once before being cut down.

Ariana led the charge. Her blade flashed in the fading light as she moved like a whirlwind. Her strikes were precise, controlled, yet brutal. Every swing left a body on the ground. She slashed across a zealot’s neck, spun, and cut another’s legs from beneath him. Blood sprayed into the air. She dodged a curved blade and drove her sword into the attacker’s chest before pulling it free in one motion.

Her boots thudded on the wet soil as she charged further, leaving a path of corpses behind her.

"Keep pushing!" she shouted. "Don’t let them surround us!"

Seraphin was close behind, lightning crackling around his fists as he blasted two attackers into trees. Vic flanked left, throwing his daggers with pinpoint precision, each one landing between the eyes of a charging cultist.

"Keep moving!" Gare yelled from the rear."Protect the Highness!"

Lyria stood beside Emilia, her body half-shielding her while fending off anyone who got close. Her movements were less polished than Ariana’s, but they were efficient—every swing drove back the enemies, every strike was lethal.

But then a sharp sound, a snap.

A chain flew through the air like a whip.

Ariana raised her sword just in time to block it.

Clang!

The chain wrapped around her blade, jerking it slightly. The force made her stumble back a step.

She looked down. Her eyes widened.

Where the chain had touched her skin—barely a graze—some of her aura had flickered, like a candle in the wind.

Something had drained her power.

From the chaos stepped one of the women in blindfolds.

She grinned, that horrific stretched smile splitting her face like a mask of horror.

Her voice was calm, almost gentle, but it sent a chill down Ariana’s spine.

"You’re so beautiful," she whispered.

"Why fight... when you can sing?"

"Join us. Join the Choir. Let us sing to the heavens together."

Ariana tightened her grip on the sword. Her lips curled in disgust. "You twisted freak."

She stepped forward again, but more chains began to move from the woman’s sleeves alive, like snakes, twisting in the air.

Back behind the frontline, Emilia clung tightly to Elfie. Her body trembled, not out of weakness, but the raw dread that this was no normal battle. Lyria stood beside her, fending off the few that managed to break through the front.

Jess, bloody but breathing, moved closer.

"This... isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen," Jess muttered. Her face was pale, voice strained. "Who are these people?"

"Monsters," Lyria answered coldly.

"Fanatics," Vic grunted nearby as he slammed a cultist’s head into a tree. "Worse than monsters. Monsters don’t talk about love while they kill."

Seraphin was gasping for air, energy coursing through his body, sweat dripping down his face. "We need to reach the leader—kill him—end this."

He pointed toward Praja, who was still standing in the distance, arms raised high, chanting in a foreign, dead tongue.

Even with ears sealed, the sounds felt like they were scratching at the soul.

Ariana glared at the woman in front of her.

"You touch me again, and I swear I’ll rip your throat out."

The woman laughed sweetly, mockingly.

"That’s the passion we need."

Chains shot toward Ariana again.

And so began the deadliest clash of the night.