Chapter 90 : Go Ask Her in Hell, Old Man

The purification ritual. As the name implied, it was a sacred ritual to purify filth.

But the one Oswell proposed now was not so simple.

Lillian knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to purify Milly’s very existence.

He intended to use the ritual to reverse the demon girl back into a human.

Back in the fortress, when she had seen Milly wield the holy sword Dawn, Lillian had finally understood her identity.

She had never thought that the Imperial Sword Saint would become like this. But in Milly, she saw no trace of the original wielder.

It could only be that Stacy had altered her memories and consciousness when she transformed her into a demon.

It was the most logical explanation.

But she quickly dismissed it.

She knew Stacy never left survivors. And she had no interest in turning humans into demons.

The truth of Milly’s birth was likely far more complicated.

As for Oswell, he simply believed that Milly was a product of the Fell God’s dark magic, a corrupted version of the Sword Saint.

With the purification ritual, he could cleanse her of her filth and turn her back into a human.

On the surface, his intentions seemed sound.

But as a Saintess, Lillian knew that the so-called purification ritual of the Church could do no such thing. And with that, things were not so simple.

“But Your Holiness, the purification ritual is just…”

“Go and prepare.”

Oswell’s voice held an undeniable authority. Lillian could only turn in silence and instruct the nuns to prepare the holy water.

“Oswell, what are you really planning!”

As she headed to the sanctuary to prepare, Lillian noticed that Oswell was not going to the inquisition chamber, but was taking Milly to the papal study alone.

What couldn’t be asked in the inquisition chamber?

It had to be related to the missing grimoire. Since the crusade, Oswell had been searching the fortress. He likely hadn’t found it, which was why he was now targeting Milly.

Lillian followed him, hiding in the shadows.

The moment they entered the study and closed the door, she pressed her ear against it, holding her breath.

“I’ve searched every corner of the Fell God’s lair.” A muffled cry of pain from inside. Lillian’s heart clenched.

“Shut up, you filthy demon. Do you think I’m asking for your answer?”

Before the stubborn little one could make things worse, Lillian pushed the door open.

Inside, holy light from the scepter was lancing at Milly, her skin smoking as if burned by fire.

“Your Holiness, the holy water is ready.”

Hearing the voice, the holy light slowly faded.

“Filth. You’d better pray you can hold out until you decide to speak.”

Oswell sneered, handing the golden rope to Lillian. “Prepare the sanctuary. The purification ritual will begin.”

He turned and left, leaving Lillian holding the rope.

Looking at the bound Milly, a complicated expression flickered in her eyes.

When Milly had escaped, she had hesitated.

That moment had given Milly a chance. But her luck was bad. She had run right into the returning Pope.

Now, she couldn’t help her.

She led Milly to the sanctuary.

It sounded so formal, but Lillian knew how perfunctory this whole process was.

But as she led her, she didn’t notice a faint crimson color in the depths of her own eyes.

In the sanctuary, Lillian personally removed the nun’s habit, leaving only the white prison clothes she had been given.

Underneath, the thorn sigil on her collarbone was faintly visible.

So, it was Stacy’s doing.

This must have been what Tifna had mistaken for a s*ave brand. Had Stacy used this to turn her from a human into a demon?

…That didn’t fit Stacy’s twisted sense of humor. The sigil must have a more important purpose.

Ever since Stacy died, she had been thinking of her a lot. And now, her consciousness was blurring.

“…Ugh… strange, my head is spinning.”

The polished cross cast a menacing shadow in the candlelight. Milly was chained to it.

She struggled, but the silver chains seemed to have a life of their own, tightening with her every move, leaving deep red marks on her pale skin.

“To turn a fallen demon back into a human, it is a feat worthy of the history books. It is her honor.”

Oswell’s voice came from behind.

Lillian didn’t respond. He turned his gaze to Milly.

“You willingly surrendered to the Fell God, chose to become a demon, her dog. You should have been burned at the stake.”

“Filth. If you tell me where the Fell God’s book is, the Goddess will forgive your sins.”

The girl on the cross looked up, a mocking smile on her lips.

“Alright, I’ll tell you.” The bound girl’s voice was hoarse. “Go ask her in hell, old man.”

The sanctuary fell silent. The nuns stared in horror. A bishop dropped his holy book. No one had expected her to say such a thing.

Oswell’s eyes narrowed, the tip of his scepter glowing with a blinding white light.

“Very well.” He sneered. “I’m curious. What did the Fell God do to make the once-great Sword Saint so loyal to her, to keep her secrets even now?”

“Inquisitors, remove the Fell God’s sigil.”

Two black-robed inquisitors approached with a wooden box containing a silver carving knife.

As they raised the knife to her collarbone, their bodies froze, as if controlled by invisible threads.

“What are you waiting for? Do it.”

Oswell’s sharp voice came from behind.

But the two inquisitors seemed to have lost consciousness, their bodies still in the position of holding the knife.

What was happening?

Before Oswell could investigate, the faint thorn sigil on Milly’s collarbone suddenly came to life.

The dark thorns wrapped around the inquisitors’ bodies, and at a visible rate, their flesh was devoured, leaving only two shriveled corpses.

The blood-sucking thorns glowed with a sinister red, their tips like a snake’s tongue, flicking out at everyone in the sanctuary.