The following evening, the sky above the convent was blanketed by a dense layer of pitch-black clouds, entirely swallowing the pure moonlight of the previous night.
The silence permeating the area was terrifyingly absolute, broken only by the wind howling through the ancient stone crevices of the Cathedral.
Inside the subterranean vault, the air was thick with the sharp scent of gun oil and cured leather.
Priest Malachi and Mother Superior Agatha had been waiting for a long time.
Upon the stone table, all top-secret documents regarding the parish, mystical maps, and intelligence logs accumulated over the past twenty years had been meticulously sorted, incinerated, or secured inside specialized iron trunks.
Dark runic weaponry and modified Sophion pressure firearms were fully charged, resting quietly inside their tactical luggage.
They were prepared to mobilize at a moment’s notice.
The sole piece missing was the ultimate key to unlock the next chapter of their lives: the encrypted mobilization order.
SWOOSH…
A faint sound of slicing air echoed from the underground ventilation shaft.
A small dagger thudded sharply into the wooden table.
Bound to its hilt was a pitch-black leather scroll, sealed with crimson wax bearing the imprint of a flaming crucifix—the supreme emblem of the Crusade Army.
Malachi stepped forward, drawing the dagger from the wood and carefully detaching the scroll.
His eyes narrowed slightly under the dim, flickering candlelight:
— “Finally…
it has arrived!”
Agatha moved to stand beside him, a flash of severe solemnity crossing her cold eyes.
Simultaneously, both straightened their postures, clasping their hands over their chests in the strictest military protocol, their voices echoing in a low, resonant unison throughout the vault:
Malachi used the dagger to slice through the wax seal, slowly unrolling the leather parchment.
Beneath the feeble candlelight, lines written in golden ink infused with Sophion energy radiated a faint luminescence, vividly displaying the authoritative contents:
TO:
—Priest Malachi – Member of the Crusade Division
—Agatha – Member of the Crusade Thorns Division
The hour of destiny has struck.
The epoch of the Primal generation has officially drawn to a close.
Now, the wheels of history continue to turn, and the Church stands on the precipice of a challenging new chapter.
Hereby, in the name of the Supreme Church and the Will of the Divine, this Summoning Order is enacted: It is time for you both to return to Headquarters to prepare for the subsequent strategic maneuvers.
The specific mobilization terms are as follows:
—Regarding Priest Malachi: You are ordered to hand over all duties and administrative authority over the current parish.
The Church has orchestrated for another priest to assume command and replace your position immediately upon your departure.
—Regarding Agatha: Immediately recall all forces under the Crusade Thorns Division and depart alongside Priest Malachi for Headquarters without a single moment of delay.
Ever remember your solemn oath beneath our sacred banner.
Whether enveloped in darkness or facing the tempest, our faith remains immortal!
FOR THE CHURCH, FOR GOD, ALWAYS DIRECT THE LIGHT TOWARD HIM!
Signed,
Commander-in-Chief of the Crusade Army:
Upon reading the final syllable, the leather parchment automatically erupted into a vibrant blue flame, incinerating itself into ash right within Malachi’s palm, leaving behind absolutely zero evidence.
— “Alexander Luvanti…” Agatha softly muttered the Commander-in-Chief’s name, her countenance betraying a state of extreme wariness.
“For His Eminence to personally issue the mandate, it seems headquarters is about to experience a monumental upheaval.”
— “The Gen-Syndicate era has dawned; the Church is compelled to execute purges with far greater brutality if we wish to avoid being swallowed whole by the corporate conglomerates.” Malachi donned his thick black trench coat, pulling his cap low to obscure the upper half of his face.
“Let us move, Agatha.
My replacement is likely already en route.
We cannot afford to compromise our movements to the newcomer.”
Agatha nodded subtly, turning to blow out the solitary candle in the vault.
Absolute darkness instantly swallowed the chamber.
The two dark silhouettes moved with the swiftness of phantoms, gliding through the subterranean passage and exiting via the Cathedral’s rear doors.
Before entirely immersing himself into the dense, late-night fog, Malachi instinctively paused for a beat, turning his head back toward the bedroom wing of the three siblings, where Kento—his “White Oni”—lay fast asleep.
”Walking this path, it is either an opportunity or death…
Kento, I hope that what we have implanted within you over these past four years was not a suicide seed,” Malachi mused silently.
SWISH…
A minuscule sound resonated through the air as the two nocturnal guardians of the convent officially departed at maximum velocity, vanishing completely into the endless, infinite night.
They left behind a vacant parish, silently awaiting its new master in the highly volatile Gen-Syndicate Era of Capital Power.
END OF CHAPTER 17.1