"Brother Odysseus! Rally to us!" one of the Gray Robe Knights shouted, calling for the separated members to regroup. The passages beneath Sacred Heart Cathedral were now filled with cave-ins and the living dead, while the Cultists, their enemies, had all perished—transformed into sacrifices for the Evil God they worshipped.

The dense fog, displaced earth, and encroaching vines had crushed the original tomb passages, making it nearly impossible for the squad to advance. Their golden divine light couldn’t penetrate the rock and debris, serving only to make the living dead recoil temporarily, like wild animals from a fire.

Fortunately, the Order Church was not completely unprepared. Using intelligence gathered from the attempted attack at the Grand Theater and their subsequent contact with the Holy Mother Order, they had made specific preparations for the toxic fog. Not only had they been fortified with Divine Arts that resisted and expelled poisons, but their helmets were also filled with cotton cloth and charcoal particles.

"Damn it, how do we get back to the surface?"

Amid the shocking collapse, residents on the edge of the East Suburb and pedestrians on the streets witnessed explosive vines bursting through the ground. During the terrifying, violent tremors, the entire church—a once majestic, towering stone structure—was slowly caving in. If Rorschach were to make an analogy, the layered tombs beneath the church were collapsing like a crushed wafer cookie.

In the eyes of the onlookers, thick, dark green branches clung to the exquisite statues and white stone walls, burrowing into the already shattered stained-glass windows. The building was sinking; it was as if menacing, unholy vines were grasping the entire church and dragging it into the Abyss.

"Watch out for the toxic fog!" The Holy Knights responsible for maintaining the cordon abandoned their original posts. They had been trained and understood the enemy’s profane tactics. Although no green fog was yet visible erupting from the ground, the living dead had already begun to crawl out from fissures in the earth.

They—no, these things—didn’t seem to regenerate flesh. Instead, their rotting masses were covered in a plant-like skin and blooming, flesh-colored flowers. Sporangia-like structures were attached to their bodies, and when they burst, they spewed a gushing mucus that turned brown instantly on contact with the air. Sensing the presence of the living, these disgusting creatures roared and picked up their pace.

"Devils!" "Evil spirits!" The onlookers realized the legends spread by the Church were all true! ’But doesn’t that mean Hell itself lies beneath the famous Sacred Heart Cathedral? In that case, is there any point in donating to the Order Church?’

Unlike the common folk, the Church’s forces were focused on preventing these unholy creatures from spreading. Attacks imbued with Holy Light rained down upon the living dead. Their agonized roars signified they were taking fatal damage; newly resurrected, they were about to die a second time.

However, the tombs, continuously expanded since the very birth of the Old Empire, showed off their profound "depth." A ceaseless stream of humanoid monsters—part plant, part fungus, and part corpse—kept climbing out. If the underground structures hadn’t been destroyed, it’s likely even more would have returned to the world of men.

"First and Second Squads, full assault! Third Squad, evacuate the crowd!" The Blessed Anointing Oil had already been applied. With that, the commander raised his sword with a cry and charged into the horde of living dead, hacking wildly. Golden arrows and brilliant flashes of steel aimed at the monsters and vines illuminated his imposing figure, leaving the public with the image of a solid, reliable back turned toward them.

It wasn’t just him; every Holy Knight who joined the battle captured the onlookers’ attention, helping to calm the panicked crowd. While the smart and the cowardly had already fled, there were still rubberneckers "feasting their eyes" on the spectacle at the risk of their lives. They were subsequently driven far into the distance by the Third Squad—the farther, the better.

On the first level of the Underground Tomb, the Gray Robe Bishop, Priest Joseph, wore a grim expression. He was filled with rage—furious with the Holy Knights and Gray Robe Knights who had been responsible for patrolling the tomb but had botched everything, and also incensed by the Cultists’ blasphemy. Everyone buried in the Underground Tomb had been a pious (and generous) believer. Now, not only had their eternal rest been disturbed, but they had also been turned into unholy abominations. And on top of it all, the entire church was on the verge of destruction!

Joseph spread his arms, and the Scripture he held floated up before his chest, moving on its own as if untouched by the wind.

"The Lord said: I have come into the world as a Light, so that whoever sincerely believes in me shall not remain in darkness." His hoarse voice was not loud, yet every Holy Knight heard it. As the words were spoken, a brilliant Light erupted from Joseph, causing the surging vines to recoil in fear. The spirits of every Knight, both those fighting on the surface and the patrol team trapped underground, were instantly bolstered. The radiance of the Lord of Order grew ever more powerful.

"The grass withers and the flower fades, but the word of the Lord endures forever, and His covenant is everlasting." The chant seemed to become law, causing the vines to wither and the fleshy flowers on the living dead to shrivel. The advance of the unholy things was halted, and the church’s collapse even seemed to be reversing. In particular, the brick walls engraved with divine words and the painted frescoes depicting great epics began to radiate with light once more.

Everything Joseph recited was a verse from the Scripture. With each line he spoke, the parchment pages flipped on their own to the corresponding passage.

The church’s collapse stabilized. The chaotic peal of the bells steadied, transforming into a rhythmic, cautionary toll.

...

In the main hall of Saint Miller Cathedral, the Valuva Cathedral, massive stone pillars and walls supported a magnificent, towering vault. Stained-glass mosaics depicted the images of numerous Saints, most of whom gazed down with lowered eyes, looking upon all life within and without the church with lofty pity.

At that moment, Dipresy, who had sensed the disturbance, let out a long sigh. He struck his staff once against the floor. At this signal, the other Divine Servants commenced a grand ritual.

A long, resonant note sounded from on high, like a sacred tone descending from the Supreme Heaven to the mortal world. The pipe organ began to play. As each pipe resounded, a brilliant light flared in time with the vibrating note, ascending to the infinite heavens.

The pipes filled not only the front wall of the main hall but also lined the windows along the sides. The entire dome, the entire church, served as its resonance chamber. Accompanied by such a grand and magnificent instrument, the choir began to chant and the Divine Servants began to call out. The music was at times soaring and passionate, and at others, it deepened into a melodious murmur.

In the face of such music and such voices, no one could remain unmoved; they felt an urge to prostrate themselves in worship. Outside the church, pedestrians slowed their pace, and the truly pious began to pray without thinking.

The bell towers of the other Monasteries also began to toll in rhythm. Though it was not on the hour, their harmonious chimes penetrated every corner of Valuva.

Far across the city, Joseph had been struggling to maintain the large-scale Divine Art, his priest’s robes soaked with sweat. But as the distant Holy Song rose and the bells chimed in harmony, it was as if his god had sent a response. Power surged ceaselessly through the old, gray-robed man, accelerating the withering of the vines.

Underground, the band of Knights hacked at the unholy creatures while using their Great Swords to carve a path upward. This was no time to worry about the wear on their weapons. They may not have known what oxygen was, but they understood all too well that they couldn’t stay there much longer.

But Odysseus had broken formation again. His captain often said that he wasn’t suited for the clandestine life of the Gray Robes and would be a better fit as an ordinary Holy Knight. The squad leader roared for Odysseus to hold the line, but he just turned and plunged back into the dense fog and rubble.

"I feel the Lord’s power descending! Someone must become the hand of the Supreme Lord and pass judgment on the root of this vile spawn!"

Joseph, positioned in the space between the Underground Tomb and the church, felt the power from the Supreme Heaven draining away. No, it wasn’t disappearing—it was being called, pulled deeper into the earth.

Joseph’s brow furrowed for a moment, but he quickly submitted to the will of the Divine Power and released his focus on the descending energy. The radiance around him faded, leaving only an ordinary, withered old man. He snatched up the thick Scripture and, using its spine like a battering ram, smashed it violently against the head of a nearby living dead.

Divine Power, made manifest, gushed from the eyes and mouth of Odysseus—the chosen one, the fleeting hand of God. He lacked Joseph’s profound cultivation; he bore this Mighty Power through sheer devotion alone.

"Through my body, I shall enact my Lord’s will! Face judgment!"

The source of the vines and the dense fog—the gash torn into Mother Earth by the Cultists’ sacrifice—was struck by a ferocious blast from the Supreme God.