Chapter 221

Rommel returned shortly thereafter.

"Something has happened."

"What is it?"

"It's... best if you see for yourself."

As he spoke, Rommel cast a wary glance at Theo. It was clear that something significant had occurred. Theo, having anticipated this, nodded.

"Let's head there immediately."

Sensing the gravity of the situation, the 6th Unit hurried to Ragnar's military headquarters. There, they were met with a gruesome sight: countless poles stood erect.

"..."

"..."

"..."

No one could find the words to speak. Atop each pole was the severed head of a member from the headquarters. By rough estimate, there were over a hundred. Each face was contorted in agony.

Below them, a message scrawled in the victims' blood added to the horror:

Heretics, divine punishment awaits you.

It was unmistakably a message from the Holy Demon Church to Ragnar.

Grit!

"Those insane bastards..."

Lezé ground her teeth, her eyes blazing with fury, ready to tear apart the perpetrators. Kincarnon was equally enraged. The tension was palpable. Ancio was no different.

Though they had been coerced or defeated by Theo, their pride in Ragnar was unwavering.

In contrast, Theo examined the poles with a stoic expression, noting the condition of the severed heads, the nature of the battle, and any signs of survivors or escapees.

"There's a village nearby, correct? Does anyone know its location? It seems the Holy Demon Church might have targeted it as well."

"...!"

"...!"n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"...!"

Could they have harmed innocent villagers?

The group urgently set out to check the surrounding villages.

***

“Urgh!”

“Ugh!”

“These lunatics… how could they do something so grotesque?! Skinning human faces and leaving this mess!”

The group scoured Perington’s main residential areas, its villages, and satellite towns. Everywhere they went, their disgust grew.

To summarize the results: there was hardly a place untouched by horror.

Corpses littered the streets.

A mother who had died shielding her child. A couple, hands clasped tightly in death. An elderly man whose face froze in bitter resentment. A young man who fell clutching a spear he couldn’t wield properly.

Those who tried to resist were torn apart and hung on rooftops. Severed heads rolled across the streets or were piled into towers—a scene straight from the depths of hell.

The weaker knights couldn’t hold their stomachs, vomiting at the sight, while the sturdier ones worked to gather the bodies into pits for burial. The immediate concern wasn’t just the stench but the looming threat of disease.

“What could they have been thinking, committing such atrocities?”

“If I can’t have it, no one can—that’s likely their mindset. After all, Perington was one of the East’s most prominent cities.”

“They might be crazed fanatics, but don’t they have even a shred of humanity? No guilt or sympathy?”

“They don’t. That’s what makes them the Holy Demon Church.”

Theo ordered his unit to search for hidden survivors while mentally piecing together the details from the military headquarters. He reached a single conclusion.

‘Lodbrok, this is—’

‘I agree. This was a sacrificial ritual. Perhaps another attempt at a resurrection ceremony? But this feels less like a structured ritual and more like a chaotic massacre. Strange traces of magic linger here and there… Hmm.’

‘Do you think their command structure is in disarray?’

‘Exactly. It’s as if conflicting orders from two different commanders left their subordinates scrambling.’

Theo studied the remnants of a magic circle etched into a crumbling wall and felt confident in his theory.

‘It seems likely. Two commanders who don’t get along moved together, and it caused everything to spiral. One probably wanted to conduct a resurrection ceremony for the Nameless Lord, while the other just wanted senseless destruction.’

Their differing goals led to division, inconsistent orders, and chaotic execution. Ultimately, their forces likely split into two groups.

‘Then that means…’

‘Yes. At least two bishops have appeared.’

‘…!’

A bishop, second only to the apostles, was one of the highest-ranking figures in the Holy Demon Church.

‘This won’t be an easy fight.’

Theo’s chest tightened.

This incident hadn’t occurred in his previous life. At the time of his death, Perington had remained one of the East’s great cities. Even after Troyban’s collapse, its prosperity had only grown through its connection to Winterer.

Now, Perington was unrecognizable, devastated beyond repair—a butterfly effect caused by the Northern War starting years earlier than in his past life.

Theo had acted to mitigate future harm, but this left him questioning whether the innocent had paid the price for his interference. He also wondered how such devastation had gone unnoticed by Winterer.

But for now, his focus was clear: track down those responsible for this atrocity and eliminate them.

‘Where have they gone?’

At that moment, a voice broke through his thoughts.

“Survivors! We’ve found survivors!”

“Where?” Theo demanded.

“This way!”

Following Arin’s urgent lead, Theo rushed to the location.

A collapsed church.

At first glance, it appeared burnt to the ground—a place where survivors seemed unlikely.

‘There’s something… I can sense it.’

Theo’s heightened senses picked up faint voices beneath the rubble.

“Sis, how much longer do we have to stay here?”

“Just three more days, okay? Mom and Dad will come to save us. We just need to hold on a bit longer.”

“I’m scared.”

“Please, don’t let anyone come. Don’t let them find us. Please, please…”

“Someone’s outside. Could it be the rescue team?”

There was likely a bunker beneath the church.

“There,” Theo said, spotting a metal door buried under debris.

It seemed someone had attempted to clear the rubble but couldn’t move the heavy door.

“This door is too heavy to budge,” one knight said.

Theo nodded, examining the door. It was designed to be opened from the inside, likely to protect against external threats. If magic seals were in place, it would be even harder to open.

“Did you try communicating with them?” he asked.

“We did, but they don’t seem to trust us.”

“Gaining their trust is the priority.”

The bunker wasn’t large, and Theo could sense many people crammed inside. Supplies were likely running low, and their conditions would only worsen with time.

Theo banged on the door. “This is Ragnar. We’ve come to rescue you. Please open the door.”

“Ragnar?”

“They said Ragnar earlier too… Could it really be them?”

“Don’t be stupid! It’s a trick! Even if it’s truly Ragnar, would they save us? They’ll probably lock us up or kill us!”

“That’s true…”

“Let’s just wait until they leave.”

The survivors, former subjects of Troyban, distrusted Ragnar almost as much as they feared the Holy Demon Church.

Theo kept speaking to them patiently, but the door remained shut as if sealed with wax.

“What now?” Arin asked, her expression questioning whether they should force it open.

Theo sighed, his eyes hardening. “We have no choice. Saving them comes first.”

Four swords shot out, embedding themselves at the door’s weak points.

“To those inside: step back from the door immediately. It’s about to come down.”

“What are they doing?!”

“Are they trying to break in?”

“They’re attacking us! Get the mage! Now!”

‘A mage?’ Theo noted with interest.

Pouring his mana into the swords, Theo forced the door to break with a thunderous boom as the blades carved it apart.

A path to the bunker’s interior appeared.

“I’ll go in first,” Theo announced.

“Wait! That’s too—” Arin began, but Theo was already descending.

The first thing to greet him was the stench of death. Had someone died down here?

“Wha—he has a sword!”

“It’s them! Holy Demon Church fanatics!”

“Sword! Drop it! Now!”

The ragged survivors surrounded Theo, brandishing worn weapons that posed little threat. Their trembling hands and gaunt faces told him everything.

‘These people need help immediately. A little longer, and it might have been too late.’

Theo placed his sword on the ground and raised his hands. “As I said, we are Ragnar’s rescue team. We came here after hearing of Perington’s tragedy. Is there someone I can speak to?”

The survivors exchanged uncertain glances before their eyes turned to the back of the group. Someone was approaching, parting the crowd.

‘That must be their leader.’

A hunched old man in a deep hood stepped forward.

“I wondered what kind of fool would dare impersonate Ragnar… Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the young lord himself would descend to such a wretched place.”

As the old man lowered his hood, Theo’s eyes widened in shock.

‘Master?!’

It was Newitz, the Martial Monster who had taught Theo the Dragon’s Heart in his past life—standing here, in this ruined church.