The world seemed to stop spinning in front of the giant gates of the Northern Cathedral.
The foul stench of the black vomit from thousands of newly “awakened” citizens mingled with the scent of gunpowder and the sweat of the Vayne knights.
Above the balcony, the teak doors adorned with reliefs of paradise were now tightly shut, as if their occupants were trying to hide from the reality they themselves had created.
Azura Vayne stood with a straight back upon the wooden podium Malachi had previously used for his sermons.
Her sea-blue eyes stared coldly at the silent Cathedral gates.
”Arthur,” Azura’s voice broke the silence.
“Burn the flag.”
Without hesitation, Arthur tossed a torch toward the massive Church banner fluttering at the side of the cathedral.
The symbol of the Golden Sun was engulfed in flames within seconds, scorched into ash that drifted away in the dawn wind.
In its place, the Vayne knights hoisted the banner of the Silver Lion against a Deep Blue background right in the center of the square.
The message was clear: The power of God in this land has ended, and the law of Vayne has returned.
[System: OMG!
The visuals are peak, Boss!
Intimidation Score: 95/100.
You look like a Grim Reaper interning as a Queen.
Soundtrack: ‘The God’s Funeral’ – Mode: Orchestral Doom.]
Azura ignored the system’s sarcastic commentary.
She stepped down from the podium, walking slowly toward the Cathedral’s main gate.
Each click of her boots against the cobblestones sounded like a death knell for those inside.
Suddenly, a slow clap echoed from the side.
Duke Alaric Varentis approached casually.
He was no longer wearing his ragged commoner’s clothes; he now wore light silver-plated armor with a black cloak fastened by the Black Eagle seal on his shoulder.
”A bold move, Lady Marchioness,” Alaric smiled thinly, his eyes fixed on the closed cathedral doors.
“But these doors are quite thick.
It seems Malachi is busy praying for a miracle, or perhaps he’s counting the gold from his corrupt earnings.”
Alaric stopped right in front of the giant wooden gates.
His casual manner remained unchanged, exactly like someone chatting with a neighbor at a coffee shop, even though the aura around him began to vibrate violently.
”Just a heads up, My Lady.
People like Malachi won’t listen to logic when cornered.
His soul needs to be…
‘touched’ a little,” Alaric said.
He placed his palm against the wooden surface of the cathedral doors.
[System: WARNING!
Disaster Detection Alert!
Duke Alaric is releasing 15% of his Aura.
Boss, better take three steps back if you don’t want your lungs to feel like they’re in a hydraulic press!]
Azura felt the air pressure suddenly become incredibly heavy.
The ground beneath her feet seemed to tremble slightly.
Aura: Sovereign’s Absolute Gravity.
There was no explosion.
No thunderous boom.
There was only the sound of wood groaning.
Creak…
CRASH!
Small cracks spiderwebbed from the center of Alaric’s hand, shattering the angel reliefs on the door as if they were made of brittle biscuits.
”Malachi…” Alaric’s voice echoed, low yet penetrating into the deepest chambers of the cathedral.
“Come out now, or I will level this building along with all your rotten memories inside it.”
Inside the Cathedral, the atmosphere was a stark contrast.
Inquisitor Malachi sat slumped on the marble floor, his thin face drenched in cold sweat.
He could feel the pressure of Alaric’s aura squeezing his heart from a distance.
”This is impossible…
Duke Varentis…
why is he helping that witch?!” Malachi muttered hysterically.
He turned toward Eliana, who stood near the altar.
“Eliana!
Use your voice!
Call for reinforcements from headquarters!
Tell them we are under attack!”
However, Eliana did not move.
The Saintess stared at her trembling hands.
She looked out the window, seeing the people who once prostrated themselves before her now holding stones and screaming her name as a whore and a murderer.
Eliana was no fool.
She was an opportunist.
And she knew when a ship was sinking.
”The Archbishop will not come, Malachi,” Eliana’s voice sounded hollow.
“He won’t risk a war with two Fangs of the Kingdom at once just for a lowly Inquisitor like you.”
Eliana walked toward the gates, passing the wide-eyed Malachi.
With trembling hands, she pulled the latch from the inside.
BOOM!
The giant doors swung wide open.
The blinding morning sunlight flooded into the dim cathedral hall.
The mob in the square cheered ferociously, ready to surge inside to tear apart anyone they found.
”Hold!” Azura’s voice thundered, stopping the masses right at the front line.
Azura stepped into the cathedral.
Before her, Eliana immediately dropped to the floor, prostrating herself at Azura’s feet.
Her position was abject; the forehead that was usually anointed with holy oil now touched the dust on Azura’s boots.
”Forgive me, Marchioness…
I was forced…
Malachi planned everything…” Eliana sobbed, her acting still convincing enough for the laypeople.
Azura grabbed Eliana’s blonde hair roughly, forcing the girl to look up into her cold eyes.
”Do you want to live?” Azura whispered directly into Eliana’s ear.
”P-please…
anything…
I will do anything…”
”Good,” Azura released her grip with disgust.
“From this day on, you are no longer the Church’s Saintess.
You are my Golden Cage.
You will still wear this white gown, you will still smile at the people, but every word that leaves your mouth is a script written by me.
I will personally deliver you to hell.”
This was the law of the Mafia: Never kill an asset that can be turned into a propaganda puppet.
Meanwhile, behind the altar, Malachi tried to escape through a secret door.
However, Arthur and the Vayne knights were already standing there.
They dragged Malachi out into the square, throwing him into the center of the enraged crowd.
”NO!
DON’T TOUCH ME!
I AM A MESSENGER OF GOD!” Malachi screamed hysterically as the mob began to drag him over the mud and black vomit.
Azura walked to the cathedral’s main pulpit, the place where Malachi used to stand with arrogance.
She stood there, looking out at the thousands of Vayne’s citizens.
”People of Vayne!” Azura’s voice shook the square.
“Today, you see your ‘God’ dragged across the earth.
Not because he is weak, but because he was never holy!
He poisoned you to earn your worship!”
Azura held up a large parchment—an official asset seizure document.
“From this moment forth, all gold, land, and granaries belonging to the Church in the Vayne territory are CONFISCATED by the authority of the Marchioness!
This gold will be used to buy wheat, and this land will be returned to you who have worked so hard!”
A thunderous cheer erupted from the people, far louder than before.
This was no longer a cheer influenced by drugs; it was a cheer of hope.
Azura had bought their loyalty in the most effective way: By destroying a common enemy and filling their stomachs.
Alaric Varentis stood beside Azura, leaning against a cracked cathedral pillar with his arms crossed.
He watched the people who were now chanting the name “Azura Vayne” with pure adoration.
”Incredible,” Alaric murmured softly, his voice meant only for Azura.
“My Lady, you truly are clever.
You made them vomit first, then you gave them a spoonful of food.
Now they aren’t just your subjects…
they are your fiercest guard dogs.”
Alaric glanced at Malachi, who was being socially “judged” by the masses below.
“Today’s lesson, Malachi…
your white robes were nice, but the contents all smelled of rot.
You were too busy minding heaven that you forgot your people’s feet were still on the ground and they needed food, not poisonous prayers.”
Azura did not turn.
She looked straight toward the horizon.
“Science: one.
Dogma: zero, Duke.
And I’ve only just begun.”
[System: DING!
CHECKMATE CONFIRMED!]
[Public Reputation: 65% (Absolute Trust).]
[Assets Acquired: Northern Cathedral, 50,000 Church Gold Coins, Saintess Puppet (Eliana).]
[System: Boss, I’ll give you a discount on a coffin for Malachi if you want, but it looks like he’ll need a wheelchair more after that mob is done with him.
Victory Soundtrack: ‘The Queen’s Gambit’ – Mode: Epic Power Metal.]
Dawn had turned into a bright morning.
The Cathedral, which had once been a symbol of oppression, now stood as a monument to the Church’s defeat.
Amidst the destruction, Azura Vayne stood as the sole, undisputed ruler.
The first part of this war was over, but she knew the Archbishop at the Center would not remain silent seeing one of their “money-making machines” and “holy territories” plundered so thoroughly by a woman they had underestimated.