The Broken Priestess and the Beast

Paresha let out a piercing wail.Her feet slipped, and she tumbled to the ground.Her legs thrashed frantically against the stone bricks, desperately trying to drag her body away from the dim corner.

From the shadows, a creature emerged on all fours.It scrambled toward the group with a flapping, unsteady gait, as if it had a limp.Given its height, nearly half that of a human, its appearance was utterly grotesque.

Mejga pressed his hands against his throat, struggling with all his might to prevent Phillo from choking him.He let out another peculiar call:

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…”

“Awooo—woo-woo-woo… awoo!”

The shadow of the canine-like creature burst from the corner.A thick iron chain dragged behind it, clanging and rattling.This metallic din, coupled with a viscous, wet sound it produced as it moved, sent shivers down everyone’s spines and lodged their hearts in their throats.

The creature’s entire body was covered in ragged black fur.Beneath this fur, however, lay another layer of ghastly pale skin.The two layers were joined by dense, intricate stitching.From the countless needle holes, where threads crisscrossed haphazardly, a yellowish pus slowly seeped, emitting an unbearable, putrid stench.

“Westir… Westir?!”

This was no mere canine.It was unequivocally Westir Greystone, the current cathedral priest who was meant to inherit the bishop’s position, forcibly transformed into a quadrupedal monstrosity!

The man-dog was utterly naked.Its filthy fur and what was once human skin had fused together, marred by countless scars.It bore clear evidence of having endured brutal torture and conditioning.

Where Westir’s head should have been, a massive canine skull now sat.His face, once clean, refined, and bearing a scholarly air, was now riddled with scorch marks, forcibly crammed into the elongated skull.His muzzle could not close properly; at present, it clamped around a spherical object.Between his exposed teeth, pinkish bits of flesh were packed.

Westir’s movements had become almost entirely bestial.He grunted through his nose, his tongue lolling out as he swung his head from side to side.Pus-filled blood overflowed from one eye socket, the eyeball within long shriveled and blind.His other, intact eye held a dull gaze, its pupil twitching erratically, dilating and contracting with each of Mejga’s calls.

Paresha had initially tried to move forward, but Westir’s aggressive lunges forced her to retreat step by step.During their repeated struggle, the spherical object in Westir’s mouth fell to the ground.It rolled once, then slowly came to a halt between Paresha’s limp legs.

It was Bishop Doron’s head.

“Eee-yaaaahhh—!!!”

Witnessing her brother gnawing on their deceased father’s head proved to be the final blow for Paresha.Mentally shattered, she shrieked and wailed, clutching her head with both hands, shaking it wildly.Her body began to convulse uncontrollably, trembling.Overwhelmed by immense grief and terror, she lost control of her bladder, and a warm stain spread beneath her.

“Hahahaha! Westir… the enemy I’ve always spoken to you about, it’s her, you see…”

“It was your sister who left you gravely wounded and paralyzed in bed, who personally fed you my magic potion.”

“She’s been deceiving you, manipulating you all along, and draining your worth wasn’t enough.”

“She even planned to use this method to ensure your demise, all so her fiancé could inherit the bishop’s position!”

“I didn’t… I didn’t… Westir… how could this be…”

“I wanted you to get better… *hic*… I’ve always… always loved you and Father…”

“False sentiments, endless lies, deceiving and exploiting you like a pig or a dog, Westir, this is your wonderful sister!”

“Hahahahaha—!”

Upon hearing Mejga’s accusations, Westir turned towards Paresha.His vacant expression suddenly rippled with a flicker of emotion, rapidly contorting into a grotesque mask.He whimpered, then snarled, barking madly at Paresha.His spine arched into an exaggerated curve as he raised his sharp claws and, with a gaping, blood-filled maw, lunged at his own sister.

In that final, desperate moment, Paresha ceased her weeping.She remained slumped on the ground, her gaze fixed on her brother, her eyes reflecting a despair as profound as that of a corpse.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Paresha spread her arms, closed her eyes, and braced herself for her brother’s fatal blow.

“Miss!!!”

Phillo’s tearful cry echoed through the air.Seizing the moment while the divine guards’ attention was diverted, Mejga abruptly flipped over, retreating and breaking free from their grasp.

On Paresha’s side, the death she had anticipated never arrived.

A shadowy, inky mass suddenly materialized before Westir.The man-dog, still snarling and clawing, crashed headlong into the shadow and vanished without a trace.When he reappeared in everyone’s sight, it was from the corner’s shadows, as if conjured from thin air.

It was shadow magic, a teleportation spell.

Westir’s fragmented sanity was utterly incapable of enduring such a bizarre teleportation experience.He whimpered, then rushed back towards Mejga.

“Tch… disgusting and dull.”

Kaelan clenched her palm, dismissing the spell.The shadowy mass instantly vanished without a trace.Once she was certain no one had noticed her subtle maneuver, she re-wrapped her arm around Saranya, leading her to the side, and quietly observed the situation.

Had Saranya been in her normal state, witnessing such a cruel scene would have undoubtedly provoked her to a furious charge.She would have protected Paresha, weapon in hand, fiercely confronting Mejga.

Indeed, Saranya would have done exactly that.

Kaelan, however, would not.She would only intervene if Phillo, Paresha, or Aivy faced immediate mortal danger.

A blatant entry into the fray would expose her identity as a witch.With so many eyes present, the disadvantages of such an action would far outweigh any benefits.

Were there not already so many expendable pawns around?Mejga had reached the end of his rope; they could win by sheer numbers.

Her style dictated that in any situation, one should first exploit others to the fullest.Unlike Saranya, she knew herself to be a person of ignoble conduct.

Moreover… after much deliberation, she actually hoped Mejga would escape.

She was unsure how to handle Mejga.Should she kill him on the spot?Or defeat him, then send him to Vero’s court?Allow him to endure a trial and humiliation, only to die by torture?

Kaelan turned her head, glancing at the foolishly grinning Saranya.

“If he dies, you’ll be sad, won’t you?”

Saranya remained silent, merely continuing to grin foolishly.

“Fool…”

Kaelan chided softly, her thumb gently kneading Saranya’s hand.

“Mejga, surrender! We have people below! You have no chance!”

Aivy, having helped Paresha to her feet, shouted her plea for surrender to Mejga.

In the distance, Mejga picked up Westir’s neck chain, then knelt to caress his head.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… Good dog… Your master likes you…”

Westir groveled on the ground, his maw spread wide, wagging his hindquarters in a fawning manner.He let his tongue loll out, panting hot breaths, and licked Mejga’s hand.

“That Aivy character, she’s a pure, unadulterated b*tch, isn’t she?”

“If she hadn’t betrayed us, Lucius wouldn’t have withdrawn.”

“Then we could have won control of the church through normal elections, and I wouldn’t have had to go to such lengths, leading you to kill so many, just to forcibly reclaim my sister…”

“That’s just how this world works… profit comes first.”

“People are slaves to their own desires: betrayal, oppression, slaughter.”

“If you don’t act this way, you can’t emerge as the victor, you see…”

“Sss-ha—Sss-ha—Sss-ha—”

“Good boy, now.”

Under the caress, the man-dog stared at Mejga’s icy blue eyes with a ravenous hunger.Like a dog in heat, its small mouth gradually swelled and widened.It raised its front paws, stood upright, and embraced Mejga, sniffing at his body with its nose.From its maw, it haltingly uttered a broken human name:

“Sa… ra… nya… likes…”

“Dogs can speak human words?!”

A flicker of venomous malice instantly crossed Mejga’s face.He kicked Westir, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Woof… woof woof!”

Westir whimpered, then submissively flattened himself on the ground.

In that moment, everyone finally understood.The Westir Greystone they had known—the erudite scholar, capable heir to the bishopric, and future helmsman of the Moon-Marked Sect church—had long since perished.

All of this unfolded before Paresha’s eyes.The gaze of the future priestess had completely lost its luster.Her lips twitched, then suddenly stretched into an exaggerated, grotesque grin:

“Brother… my brother… hehe… my brother…”

Paresha had broken.

Despite having lost the chance to reclaim his sister and facing the inevitable outcome of defeat and capture, Mejga merely crossed his arms.The insane smile never left his face.

“If all the voters are dead, and even the bishop is gone… I wonder if Vero’s church can even continue, hmm?”

“Shameless! That’s none of your concern!”

“Don’t be so angry, Aivy.”

“If I promised to spare one of the bishops, would you let me go?”

The crowd erupted in an uproar.

“What?! Which bishop is still alive? Hand them over at once!”