Chrysalis Chapter 1709 - Judgement

“We have arrived to carry out the Church’s divine will.”

Rows of soldiers stood in perfect, motionless silence. Clad in silver-plated armor and draped in pristine white robes, they listened with unwavering discipline.

“Do not let your faith falter, and never lose sight of your objective. If doubt enters your heart, destroy it without hesitation. The smallest fracture in our resolve makes our armor useless. Dismissed.”

The sound of boots striking the deck echoed as the Judgement Battalion began to disembark, filing down the gangway toward the docks. The citizens of Green Mountain showed appropriate respect, parting to let the flawless ranks of warriors march into the city. From the ship’s deck, War Bishop Pearson observed his subordinates. They marched with heads held high and spirits ignited, prepared to execute the Church’s mandates.

With a hardened gaze, he waited for the final rank to step off the vessel before following. Trusting the auxiliaries to handle the maintenance of shields and weapons, he trailed behind his troops, keeping his senses sharp for any news regarding the mountain.

Years had passed since Pearson last visited his home, yet little had changed. These were a martial people, living under the shadow of one of the greatest monsters the Dungeon had ever produced; as such, the locals were expected to maintain a specific conduct regarding the depths. The Dungeon was a constant adversary, a darkness that loomed even over the brightest days.

Naturally, the arrival of the Soldiers of the Path was celebrated. Cheers erupted for the Battalion, accompanied by flowers freshly plucked from gardens, while some residents even laid their cloaks upon the ground for the soldiers to walk on. However, beneath the festivities, Pearson sensed a underlying current of dread and tension, like a maggot hidden inside an apple. To some degree, this was expected—a Judgement Battalion isn't deployed without a reason. Their presence meant a target existed, and where there was a target, there was peril.

Still, he felt certain the issue ran deeper. Something was fundamentally wrong here.

Once he ensured his troops were properly housed and the captains understood their assignments, War Bishop Pearson departed for his first meeting.

High upon the mountain, near the peak of the inhabited zones, he reached a manor carved from shimmering white stone. It was a place of extreme luxury, sparkling under the mana-infused light of the fourth, fit for royalty or a high-ranking lord. Nervous servants took his name at the gate to verify his clearance. Once he was permitted entry, they timidly asked if he would mind removing his armored boots before entering.

Pearson paid them no mind.

Pushing past the hesitant staff, the War Bishop marched inside, intentionally letting his heavy footsteps ring out against the patterned marble floor. On a sprawling balcony, beneath a masterfully crafted stone arch that stretched twelve meters from the manor's edge, he found his contact.

“Grand Priest Alir Vinting,” he announced.

The man stood from his lounge, placed a hand over his heart, and offered a welcoming bow.

War Bishop Graham Pearson felt nothing but contempt.

“It is truly excellent to have you here, War Bishop,” Alir remarked with a smile. “I am pleased the Church acted with such speed regarding my report.”

Pearson’s pale blue eyes, as freezing as glacial ice, stared at the Grand Priest without blinking.

“What is the cost to the Church to maintain you in this villa, Grand Priest Vinting?” he demanded.

Alir blinked, barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes. Although he hadn't crossed paths with this specific War Bishop often, Pearson’s reputation preceded him among the Church hierarchy. With his golden hair pulled back tightly and secured at his neck, not a single strand was out of place, nor was there a speck of dirt on his plate. He was the embodiment of rigid discipline and absolute standards.

“Given the gravity of this mission, I felt it vital to reside in a place that did not diminish the Church’s authority or prestige,” Alir replied, his smile becoming strained.

Pearson remained silent for a moment, scanning his surroundings. He noted the artwork, the fabrics woven with gold thread, and the rug crafted from a powerful monster’s pelt. Then there was the vista. From this height, the waters of the fourth shimmered like gemstones, while distant peaks rose like giants to support the firmament.

“I find it to be self-indulgent. You will end your stay here immediately and move into the barracks with my soldiers.”

The War Bishop’s voice was final, leaving no room for debate. Alir hid his instinctive flinch and kept his smile fixed, even as a spark of fury flickered in his chest.

“You lack the authority to order that.”

“In an active theater of war, I am your superior.”

Alir gestured to the luxurious surroundings with raised eyebrows.

“Do you view this as a theater of war? Is there some hidden threat I am unaware of?”

Pearson allowed a thin, cold smile to touch his lips.

“Members of the Judgement Battalions are required to be battle-ready at all times when outside of a cathedral. The moment we pass through the gates, we are in the field. If you take issue with this, you are welcome to discuss it with the Arch Bishop when you return.”

Both men understood that Alir could not openly defy him. If he refused to move, Pearson was capable of lifting him like a toddler and tossing him down the mountainside.

“Be grateful,” the War Bishop added. “I will personally ensure the saved gold is given to the widows and orphans of those killed by monsters. In this way, we light the Path.”

Grand Priest Alir Vinting fought back the rage that threatened to overwhelm him.

“We light the Path,” he repeated, bowing low to conceal his face.

Pearson showed no sign of enjoying the other man's discomfort, and Alir knew the Bishop was sincere in his austerity.

“Now,” the War Bishop said, “provide me the details of this monster I have come to slay.”