The Succubus and the Saintess [Western Fantasy] 41

Chapter 41: The Countdown

Pamela had once asked Cenia if she was curious about what the Demon King looked like. Cenia had said she wasn’t. The Church had interrogated countless demons; they already had portraits of the Demon King.

While low-level monsters were grotesque in a thousand different ways, the higher the rank of a demon, the more they resembled humans. And as the other half of the Goddess of Light, the secret scrolls recorded that the Demon King was also a woman.

A black mist shrouded the Demon King’s face, just like the Goddess’s glory, not to be profaned by ordinary people. But her form and voice were unmistakably female. Demons described her as having hair as red as blood, a voice like rich wine, and skin as white as bone. Giant black wings, large enough to blot out the sky, grew from her back. Her temperament was tyrannical and unpredictable, and she took pleasure in killing.

Rhett’s letter stated that the Demon King had appeared, and was seriously injured. She had gathered her subordinates from all over the battlefield, as if she were searching for someone. The center of the battlefield was in chaos, a great battle imminent. It was a rare opportunity to crusade against the Demon King. The Expeditionary Army was about to launch a joint attack with the Elemental Magic Towers, and they hoped Her Eminence the Saintess would stay away from the front lines to ensure her own safety.

Cenia carefully examined the magical seal belonging to Rhett on the letter. The selection for the Expeditionary Army had always been strict. Those who dared to charge on the front lines were the elite of the Church’s elite, and most of them had a blood feud with the demons, especially the Knight-Captain. Furthermore, the Expeditionary Army conducted small inspections every three months and a major one every year. If Cenia had to name someone who could never be infiltrated by the darkness, Rhett Jean Hardin’s name would certainly be on the list.

Rhett’s long silence had been one of the reasons Cenia had decided to leave the city and go to the Abyss herself. Now, with the battle raging, it was understandable for the Demon King to appear on the battlefield to boost morale or intimidate the enemy. But for her to appear while seriously injured held a meaning worth considering. Moreover, it was just a rumor. No one had actually seen the Demon King, or seen her seriously injured. Rhett wrote in the letter that it was likely a trap for Her Eminence the Saintess, and she must not fall for it.

The letter gradually disappeared between her fingertips. Cenia looked around. There was no one to talk to. Belin was not here, and neither was Pamela. The subordinates waiting outside the carriage were just waiting for her to give the order.

Cenia took a deep breath, her face betraying neither joy nor sorrow. She reached out and drew back the curtain. She was still the Saintess who had everything under control, calm and composed. “Continue forward. To the Expeditionary Army’s camp.”

The Expeditionary Army’s camp was no longer called that, nor was it a camp anymore. It was a majestic great city, possessing the glorious sanctity unique to the Church of Light, but also perpetually shrouded in a layer of wind, frost, and blood from the border war. That blood seeped from the black soil of the Abyss and grew into small, pale pink flowers, replacing the Radiant Cross flowers that could not grow on the border.

The City of the Flower of Rest.

Rhett had advised her to stay away from the center of the battle, so he would certainly not send a squad to meet her. Three days before entering the city, Cenia abandoned the carriage and switched to riding Eight. Two days before, the accompanying paladins were split into basic three-man teams and entered the city in batches. On the night before entering the city, only one paladin named Yuli remained by Cenia’s side.

“You should go too,” Cenia said to him, her eyes gentle. She was now wearing a linen robe worn by the common women of the city, not a trace of magical fluctuation on her. With a long hat on and her head lowered, she looked like an ordinary person. “With you by my side, it will be difficult for me to enter the city.”

Yuli lowered his head sheepishly. It was true. The paladins were too dazzling, and their respect for Cenia was too obvious. To stay by her side was like being a bright golden target, practically begging to be discovered by the demons. But he still had something to say. “Pamela… Miss Succubus,” Yuli asked, “did she really betray you and return to the Demon King’s side?”

Cenia hadn’t expected Yuli to mention Pamela. She was stunned for a moment, then smiled faintly. “What do you think? Do you think the same as them?”

Yuli gathered his courage. “I don’t think so. I don’t think that succubus is that kind of person. I think you think the same as I do.”

“Succubi are skilled at seduction,” Cenia said, looking at him, her lake-like eyes as quiet as ever. “She has lived for over a hundred years, and you are still just a young paladin.”

“But Your Eminence…” the young paladin pressed his lips together and finally said, “this whole way, haven’t you been waiting for her too?”

…

Yuli left with Eight. The moment Rhett saw the unicorn, he would know that Her Ladyship had not heeded his advice, so Cenia also had to enter the city as soon as possible. The path on the outskirts of the city was lined with Flowers of Rest. The Abyss, a place where nothing but demonic plants grew, could actually bloom with flowers under the care of the light element, even if the meaning of those flowers was blood and death.

But Cenia didn’t know why she was still hesitating on the side of the road. Perhaps the pink Flowers of Rest reminded her of the cemetery in the Holy City. Perhaps returning to an old place made it easy to think of a long-dead friend. Or perhaps the shadow of Lothian was too stubborn in her heart, popping up from time to time. But alongside Lothian, keeping pace with her in her heart, there was now another name.

“What are you thinking about?” From among the Flowers of Rest, a ghost returned from the dead, revived as if by the grace of the Goddess, yet from a place the Goddess’s glory would never shine upon—a demon. “Are you thinking of me?”

A lazy, lingering voice. Someone propped themselves up from among the flowers, just as, long ago, someone else had sat up from the quietgrass with the same motion, smiling at her.

The moment she saw Pamela’s face clearly, Cenia forgot what she had been about to say. The succubus was hiding in a remote patch of flowers, but the face that was revealed was not as beautiful as a flower. Black demonic horns uncontrollably pierced through her forehead, and half of her face was wreathed in a vicious black mist, a curse so potent that a single glance was enough to tell how troublesome it was.

“You…” A sharp pain stabbed her heart. The body’s reaction was always brutally honest, impossible to deceive.

Her flamboyant red hair was unbound. Below it, her skin was excessively pale. The blood that flowed from a demon’s wounds was also red, as red as her long hair, so vivid it was almost glaring. “What happened to you?” Composing herself, Cenia walked over and asked.

As she knelt beside Pamela, she smelled the scent of dried blood. But she couldn’t help but think of the description of the Demon King in the secret scrolls: hair as red as blood, voice like rich wine, skin as white as bone. It matched the woman before her, one by one.

“I wasn’t feeling well, so I got into a fight,” the succubus tilted her head with a grin. On the half of her face not covered by the curse, her eyes crinkled with laughter. “Guess who I fought with?”

“The Demon King?”

“Wow, Aya is so smart now.”

“Has anyone ever told you,” Cenia suppressed her instinctive disgust for the dark curse, staring into the succubus’s eyes, “that you look a lot like the Demon King?”

Hearing this, Pamela laughed. She reached out and took Cenia’s hand, which was hanging at her side, clutching an instant-cast spell. As if she hadn’t seen the prepared gesture, she smilingly straightened Cenia’s fingers one by one, then intertwined her own with them. “But of course,” she said. “Because my appearance was modeled after the Demon King’s.” Monlan Shadhesh had been audacious, respecting neither light nor dark, as if afraid he wouldn’t provoke the Demon King, and had fashioned his creation in her image. The succubus Pamela was the greatest failure, and also the greatest success, of the leader of the Eye of Darkness’s life.

Cenia was still dazed, sensing the seed of light element she had planted in Pamela’s body, and thinking that something about Pamela’s words wasn’t quite right. Then she saw the succubus lower her head, hunch her shoulders, and cough twice, spitting out two shocking mouthfuls of blood. A self-inflicted wound to gain sympathy, a trick she had always used with ease. But this time, Cenia didn’t think of that at all.

“You need healing,” she scolded. But Her Ladyship the Saintess, the one most skilled at saving people, could not heal the succubus before her. “The Demon King is so powerful. Why did you go looking for Her?”

“We had to fight eventually,” Pamela smiled. “Besides, I’m very powerful too. I injured Her as well. I was just scouting the path for you. After all, you said you would take me with you on your crusade into the Abyss.”

“I came here to oversee the battle, not to crusade against the Demon King,” Cenia’s throat was a little dry. Rhett’s letter appeared in her mind.

“I have created a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you,” in agreement with Rhett’s assessment, Pamela’s eyes curved. “Besides, is your current strength not enough?”

Cenia’s heart leaped. “What are you referring to?”

“I was always curious before, how someone at Your Eminence’s level could still have such unwavering faith in the Goddess, and continue to advance in strength,” Pamela said. “Even though the Goddess has long since sacrificed herself to the Abyss and no longer protects her children, and people like Grand Archbishop Berlande have already stepped onto the path of blasphemy.”

“Now I know.” The hand holding Cenia’s was so tight, yet so light. If she wanted to, it wouldn’t be hard to break free. But Cenia didn’t move. She just watched as Pamela brought her hand to her lips and kissed the back of it, gently and preciously, then her fingertips, performing a standard knight’s salute. Cenia was wearing the linen robe of an ordinary woman. At her level of strength, there was no longer a trace of magical fluctuation around her, not a single wisp of light element leaking out. Of course, that was because she no longer relied on the light element to increase her strength. She was the Saintess of the Church, the Goddess’s apostle on earth. Wherever she went, the people there believed in her. She was their god.

No one had ever discovered this, because it was something more terrifying, more unimaginable than blasphemy. But the Pamela before her just watched her quietly. At some point, she had changed to a kneeling position, like a true female knight, her blood-stained lips kissing Cenia’s fingertips.

“The City of the Flower of Rest is a good place,” Pamela said, her head bowed, her back to the entire city, her tone filled with unquestionable loyalty.

“I will enthrone you as the new god.”