Chapter 55: The State of the Redemption Army and the Church, and Light (part 2)

In the bustling Demon City, a different scene unfolded.

Snow, the wolfman, was originally a native of the wolfkin tribe in the Monster Forest.

As the strongest race among the primitive tribes of the Monster Forest, wolfmen naturally had unparalleled combat abilities.

Their noses, functioning as magical organs, could detect the scent of blood from great distances and assess an opponent’s health. Their limbs were incredibly agile, allowing them to swiftly crawl while hanging from ceilings.

Despite their formidable strength, these powerful creatures could only become captives when surrounded by the Redemption Army.

The females, with their well-proportioned bodies and wild allure, had their claws clipped and were restrained before being sent to the underground dungeons of Demon City for trial.

Healthy and strong males were magically bound. They were unable even to commit suicide. Under the priests’ control, they were forced to fight for their lives in the arena. They battled other demons to the death.

Just a few days ago, Snow had used his sharp claws to kill a catfolk. The catfolk’s agile yet fragile body was disemboweled by his claws, but Snow felt no joy in victory or relief at surviving. Kneeling on the ground, he could only weep bitterly as he watched the catfolk’s face show an expression of release.

Today, Snow’s opponent was one of his own kind, another wolfman.

This wolfman seemed to have undergone some strange modifications. Some gambler had given him the nickname Iron Dog.

This wolfman had lost his left arm, and the priests had forced a metal spear onto him as a substitute limb.

These spears were never meant to function as prosthetics and, when attached to the wolfman’s body, brought nothing but intense pain. The church wanted the gladiators to feel more pain.

In the throes of pain, even without divine magic, they would lose their sanity. And wolfmen, being demons prone to bloodlust, were even more susceptible. Yet despite this, Iron Dog was no match for Snow. Snow used his claws to disembowel his kin and his teeth to grant a swift end.

Surrounded by the excited cheers and pained cries of humans, Snow could only look down in bewilderment at it all.

He longed to return to his home in the Monster Forest. But for the rest of his life, he would be imprisoned in human cities, manipulated into fighting his own kind for the amusement of humans.

Thinking of this, he couldn’t help but weep bitterly.

The spectators on the surrounding walls jeered, shouting, “Merciful wolfman! Merciful wolfman! So even demons understand mercy and compassion?”

“Maybe he’s just drooling in excitement! Don’t mistake his drool for tears!”

“That cruel beast! If he’s so merciful, let Iron Dog disembowel him! Stop pretending to be a merciful wolf!”

Those who bet on Snow, those just here to watch the fight, and those who lost their bets were either praising him, heckling, or gnashing their teeth.

The only commonality was that none of them saw the demons as people. Well, perhaps in the underground judgment halls, where those beautiful demons with organs similar to humans were seen as people, but only as high-end objects of desire. Who would consider these voiceless lumps of flesh used for satisfying desires as people?

They might be dressed up to look beautiful, but to those noble lords, they were ultimately just flesh to use for their pleasure. Just like the pretty girls kidnapped to their estates, these demons were no different in essence.

Maybe they were tighter, more sensitive, but in the end, they were just for pleasure, to be enjoyed, and possibly even eaten by some.

Demons were just that useful.

After today’s fight, Snow was thrown by the overseers into the feeding trough for the demon gladiators.

He and the few demons inside exchanged silent glances. Perhaps they spoke different languages, perhaps none of them were literate, but they could all see the despair in each other’s eyes.

Whether they were nimble catfolk, burly bearmen, or like Snow, wolfmen, none of them harbored any hope.

A bearman wept bitterly, and Snow wanted to comfort him, but he saw the catfolk beside him gesturing.

From the gestures, Snow roughly understood. The bearman’s child had been butchered. Literally. The meat was eaten, the organs brazenly used to make medicinal wine, and the skin was tanned and hung on a wooden board, reserved by a human noble for a luxurious cloak two months from now.

Snow had heard as a child that bearman hides could block some dangerous beast spells. Maybe humans needed such things to protect themselves too.

He opened his mouth but could only let out a low wolf howl. Here, they couldn’t even commit suicide because divine magic prevented them from doing so, as they were considered the church’s most valuable assets.

He lowered his head to eat the vomit-like food in the trough. Even in despair, biological instincts forced them to eat.

But what came after eating? Were they eating just to fight their kin in the arena and entertain those humans?

They were taken without reason, their families killed and consumed, all to satisfy the desires of these humans.

They had lived in the forest for generations, never even venturing to its edge. What had they done wrong to deserve such hatred from humans?

Despair and exhaustion permeated these demons’ hearts and bodies. They sprawled on the damp ground, the room devoid of any light, save for the faint glow from two barred windows meant for ventilation.

All the demons sighed, lamenting their fate, mourning their misfortune, grieving for their mistreated kin. They begged the gods to spare their uncaptured brethren.

And then—whether it was an illusion or not, Snow suddenly saw a glimmer of light before him. A barely visible white light, unlike the priests’ golden glow. This white light did not exude an oppressive aura but rather a gentle warmth.

Tiny and almost invisible, yet in Snow’s eyes, it seemed immensely radiant.

He got up from the ground and saw that the others were also rising.

They all looked at the same spot. There, the faint white light hovered like will-o’-the-wisps.

【Pray.】

The white light spoke in a soft voice.

【Pray for your future, pray for better possibilities.】

【If you pray, I will respond.】

It was just a small light, a mere glimmer.

Yet, for some reason, Snow still knelt before it.

Tears streamed down his face as he prayed for his kin to escape. Even if he knew this light could at best bring him solace, he was willing to pray.

And it wasn’t just him. Other demons also knelt and prayed. Not only the demons here but all those who could still move in Demon City. The women tied to beds and treated as prostitutes by corpulent men, the frail old and sick about to be skinned and dismembered, the dying demon gladiators, and the newly captured demons.

A glimmer of light appeared before each of them. They prayed in their hearts. Those who had the strength knelt, showing their deepest form of supplication.

But the light didn’t require this. It said they should stand up and pray for their own future, not for the light.

They should pray for a better future for themselves.

Not for a deity that was about to fade away.

***

After finishing her prayers, Sister Teresa wearily rose and left the church the elves had built for her.

This small chapel was situated within the green courtyard of Fingal’s Sky Garden. It was a church specifically built for Light. Teresa no longer had to complete all her devotions in her room. She now had a dedicated place to pray to her god. More importantly, she finally had a church once again.

For clergy, a church was like a second home. And for Light, each new church meant an increased chance of revival. Although she didn’t expect any grand divine revelations from this seemingly useless entity, Teresa still hoped that the Light could at least survive as a minor deity rather than die out completely.

With these anxious thoughts, Yang Hao was busy handling the elves’ new tactics. He was also improving golems, managing reforms, and preparing for the arrival of Isugard’s black dragon. During this time, Sister Teresa seized the opportunity to tug at his sleeve and cautiously made a personal request.

“Can I and Narujia take care of those demons? They seem so anxious. Although the elves have given them shelter, their mental state still needs stabilization. Moreover, this would also help you and Caparia integrate them.”

“Actually, Teresa, you feel sorry for them and want to help, even if your strength is limited, right?”

The man, who was discussing important matters with Fen, turned his head and bluntly hit the bullseye.

Her face turned red from being seen through so directly, and she stammered, unsure of what to do.

Finally, in a voice as soft as a mosquito’s buzz, she asked if she was being too willful.

In response, the Regent simply smiled and embraced his nun.

“Teresa, you’ve already accepted so much of my willfulness.”

As he spoke, he gently stroked her back, kissed her forehead and cheeks, and finally rested his forehead lightly against hers, now blushing.

“So I’m willing to accept your willfulness too. It’s what you deserve. But, promise me, don’t let yourself get hurt because of this, okay? You are my heart. I know you are the true saint who can’t stand to see good people suffer. But I don’t want my saint to get hurt because of it.”

“Fen is still here, don’t say such embarrassing things. Anyway, you’re agreeing, right?”

“Yes. So go ahead and do it. I will support you fully.”

“Maybe someday I’ll inadvertently lead those demons to believe in Light. I might become the religious person you dislike the most.”

“As if you aren’t already a nun.”

Yang Hao gently patted Teresa’s back, much like she used to encourage him. In his way, he showed love and support to the girl who had always accepted his willfulness without ever whining or acting spoiled herself.

Fen stood nearby, watching with a smile.

She watched the nun’s departing figure.

In her emerald eyes, a hint of jealousy flickered.

When Yang Hao turned back, she feigned a calm demeanor and said, “Then we should continue our discussion about the large-scale destructive tactics and the integration of the demons. Perhaps we can utilize the Great Khan of the North. If they take a detour southward, the pressure on our front will be significantly reduced.”

As she spoke, a hint of stiffness crept into her words. Earlier, she hadn’t reached an agreement with the nun, they had only acknowledged a common understanding. That was all.