Chapter 310

“The news of the Parish Overseer’s death has only been shared with his closest aides. If it were made public, the repercussions would be significant.”

Quilia spoke as she gazed up at the towering Pioneering Temple. The area surrounding the temple overlapped with the Coritan residential district, so many passersby in white robes moved through the streets.

Bzzz.

My nervous system was heightened as if I were in combat. Due to my expanded senses, the world felt sharper and more vivid.

‘I should narrow my focus to Quilia.’

I was monitoring her. No matter what, she was Coritan and aligned with the Parish Overseer. If it came down to it, she could turn against me.

‘If Lars is the assassin, then I have to kill Quilia.’

It was something I had already braced myself for. There was no other way.

I might be soft-hearted, but I wasn’t some idealist lost in fantasies.

‘If I were to weigh Quilia and Lars on a scale, it’s obvious—I must save Lars and discard Quilia.’

I couldn’t save everyone.

Life was a series of choices. More often than not, the outcome wasn’t the best-case scenario but the next best thing. Sometimes, avoiding the worst meant settling for a lesser evil.

I focused on every single movement Quilia made. She was a warrior of considerable skill.

My finely compressed senses swept over her like feelers. I could detect the rhythm of her breathing, the subtle tremors in her chest, even the slightest movement of her fingers.

She must have been acutely aware of my observation as well. It must have felt like a prey animal sensing a predator looming behind it.

‘But even the mightiest predator can sometimes suffer fatal wounds from its prey.’

I hadn’t fully grasped the extent of Quilia’s abilities. She seemed inferior to me, but that didn’t mean I had seen the depths of her skills.

Any experienced warrior would have at least one hidden trump card for taking down a stronger opponent.

‘If I let my guard down against Quilia, I’ll die.’

It was inevitable that my nervous system remained in combat mode.

“Let’s meet Lars and ask him what really happened. You must have your own doubts about the Parish Overseer’s death.”

I reiterated my point. At the very least, she would cooperate until we saw Lars.

‘The Parish Overseer of Border City had many enemies. The list of suspects must be endless. If Quilia believes the real culprit is still at large, she’ll want to catch them too.’

I observed the flow of the Pioneering Temple. There was an unusual sense of restlessness in the air.

“Why does the Holy Corite Alliance disapprove of the Border City Parish?”

I spoke up, though I wasn’t asking out of genuine curiosity.

I was deliberately shifting Quilia’s train of thought toward ‘the main church in the capital.’

To be blunt, I wanted her to suspect that the Parish Overseer’s assassination was a scheme orchestrated by the main church. It was a shallow manipulation, a psychological trick I had learned from Kinuan.

"Border City Parish undergoes rapid changes due to its exposure to external influences. It's an environment where heresies can easily emerge. That’s why priests dispatched from the main church struggle to adapt to Border City. They often end up distorting doctrine to fit local circumstances. Sometimes, unavoidable deviations follow."

I didn’t know much about Disemism, or religion in general. But I was certain that heresy was a grave issue in a theocratic nation.

"Do you think those changes are wrong?"

I deliberately used the word change instead of deviation.

"My opinion doesn’t matter. I have no desire to debate right and wrong."

I scanned every restrained emotional signal Quilia emitted, reading her like an open book.

'Rather than absolute obedience to the church and state… she prioritizes personal loyalty to the Parish Overseer.'

It was a common occurrence between superiors and subordinates—a form of privatized allegiance.

Even Imperial Guards, after years of service, ended up more loyal to their commanding officers than to the state itself.

Had Quilia been a soldier who adhered strictly to the Holy Corite Alliance’s authority, I would have had no choice but to kill her without hesitation.

'This is why the world is so convoluted.'

I let out a bitter smile. A person’s heart isn’t an unchanging machine. It fluctuates every moment, endlessly shifting.

That’s why we can never truly trust someone. The human heart is bound to change.

It was the very reason the Imperial Court sought to establish an elite guard without "human hearts." As long as emotions existed, true loyalty could never be guaranteed.

Even I constantly doubted Ilay. My relationship with Hemillas had been no different. We had no choice but to suspect one another.

That was the nature of real relationships. Perfect trust and faith between people simply didn’t exist.

"There’s an entryway into the temple through the sewers. It was built as an emergency passage in case of an external attack."

Quilia calmly led the way.

The Pioneering Temple and the Coritan residential district had been constructed with the Holy Corite Alliance’s design and funding.

As we walked through the sewer, Quilia kept the conversation going. I understood her intent.

'She’s trying to divert my thoughts and create an opening. Quilia wants to seize control by subduing me.'

A subtle psychological battle unfolded between us. But I was no stranger to uneasy alliances. Compared to my time in the Empire… this was nothing.

For now, I listened to Quilia’s words carefully. Some of the information might prove useful later.

'The water supply and electrical infrastructure are completely separate from central Border City. The main communication facilities are also isolated.'

This place was practically a Coritan autonomous district within Border City.

I memorized the maze-like sewer structure, embedding it into my mind until I could navigate it blindfolded.

Throb. Throb.

Pain pulsed through my brow and temples. It felt as if my blood vessels were on the verge of bursting.

‘Breathe deeply. Stabilize your nervous system.’

A quiet breath escaped my lips—so subtle that Quilia wouldn’t notice.

…Not much time left for you as an active soldier, Luka.

I was painfully aware of it. In the past, something like this wouldn’t have given me such a headache.

‘Users of Akies Victima… usually meet an unfortunate end. It’s an ability that consumes and erodes the user.’

I had seen it happen to others before.

“We’ve arrived.”

Quilia came to a halt, staring ahead.

At the end of the sewer stood a pristine white door. It seemed to lead inside the Pioneering Temple.

Swish.

I ran my fingers over my neck collar.

‘Did Ivan temporarily disable the neck brace’s mechanism?’

I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if I had clairvoyance.

Taking the lead, I brushed my hand against the white door. It looked rusted, unlikely to open easily.

Creaaaak.

I pulled the door open. Stale, stagnant air rushed out, stabbing at my nostrils.

Wooong.

The moment I stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. A strange pressure settled over me. The cybernetic implants in my body felt heavier—likely due to electromagnetic interference.

‘Ivan…’

I confirmed that the neck brace wasn’t functioning properly. Despite being cut off from external signals, the collar remained inactive.

‘Even if I break it now, it won’t reactivate.’

But the neck brace was a symbol of trust. It was also the chain that bound me to Ivan. He had promised me freedom after Kinuan’s capture.

‘If I destroy this, I can’t count on Ivan’s cooperation anymore. He’d turn against me, relentless in his pursuit.’

I had no intention of facing the Emperor’s wrath. Though Ivan harbored goodwill toward me, he wasn’t soft enough to overlook a betrayal of this magnitude. And I had no desire to cross that line either.

“What about surveillance?”

I stepped inside first, keeping the door open as I waited for Quilia. She passed by me and took the lead.

“There are periodic patrols. No electronic surveillance systems. The risk of hacking is too high… and officially, there aren’t supposed to be any interrogation or torture facilities here.”

I flexed and uncurled my fingers, loosening them up. It would be preferable to subdue any patrols without killing them, but there were bound to be situations where that wasn’t an option.

“Luka, I’ve cooperated with you without resistance until now.”

"I have the upper hand, that’s why."

"That’s part of it, but it’s also for another reason. I want to make a request. I hope we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed. If you were to force your way in, many priests and believers would undoubtedly die."

Quilia turned to look at me. I shrugged.

"Keep talking."

"I’d like you to trust me and entrust yourself to my ability. At least until we reach Lars."

"You’re saying you’ll apply cognitive distortion to me as well."

"That way, we can move without bloodshed."

I recalled something Quilia had said before.

'Cognitive distortion doesn’t just affect others. The user’s own ability to perceive themselves is also diminished. If an untrained person were to use it, they wouldn’t even be able to control their own body. They’d feel as though their very existence had disappeared.'

If I entrusted myself to Quilia’s ability, I would become vulnerable. I might not be able to react if she ambushed me.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then it can’t be helped. You hold the authority here, Luka."

But if I rejected this request, even the fragile bond between Quilia and me would break. Quilia would treat me solely as a Coritan priest would—nothing more, nothing less.

I needed to win her over, not with immediate advantages but with her trust. After all, people were what truly moved the world.

'…Should I take the risk? What if Quilia betrays me?'

The danger was unknown. I had never experienced cognitive distortion firsthand.

But I had a hunch. Akies Victima users should be more resistant to cognitive distortion than others—just like how Kinuan’s subordinates adapted to it faster.

"Well, I don’t want to kill anyone unnecessarily either. Let’s do it."

Quilia let out a small breath of relief.

"I’ll remember your concession."

Quilia took out a mask with one hand and extended the other toward me.

Swish.

I took her hand as well.

Quilia put on the mask. A faint blue light seemed to flow from the eye sockets before her entire form wavered and disappeared from head to toe.

Wooong.

The force of cognitive distortion seeped into me from my fingertips.

I felt as if my fingers were fading. The world blurred, like I had just woken up from a dream.

"There may be hallucinations caused by cognitive distortion, and they manifest differently for each person."

Quilia’s voice echoed as if layered upon itself. She was right next to me, yet it sounded as if she were speaking from a distance.

Wuuuuung.

My sensory organs failed to properly grasp reality.

'Quilia’s hand… pleasantly cold.'

The sensory receptors in my prosthetic hand registered her body temperature.

The sensation of Quilia’s hand was the only tangible link to reality.

Stagger.

I felt like I was about to fall. There was no sensation of my feet touching the ground. I couldn’t tell if I was moving forward, backward, or simply standing still.

‘If I lose focus, even for a moment, I’ll drift away, severed from reality, into a vast, endless void.’

With my perception distorted, I opened my eyes.

Slither. Squirm.

The world before me was horrific, as if it had taken shape from my own anxieties.

‘Hallucination.’

My perception had twisted reality. The walls and floors of the passage seemed to be made of flesh and entrails. Thick, crimson blood dripped steadily, and gaping mouths lined with fangs gnashed open like traps along the ground.

‘Quilia?’

I looked at the woman walking beside me, still holding my hand. It had to be Quilia.

‘Giselle?’

Yet, in my eyes, Quilia appeared as Giselle.

Giselle, clutching my hand, was leading me straight into a hellish abyss.

Creak. Clang. Creak.

From nowhere, solid chains sprang forth, wrapping tightly around our joined hands and pulling taut.

Crunch. Snap.

The chains crushed my hand, grinding bones and flesh together until they fused into a single mass of raw meat with Giselle’s.

She was guiding me into hell. There was no way out.

…This was my fear.

The human brain is wired to respond more strongly to negativity than positivity. We anticipate terror before happiness.

And I, in particular, had a strong inclination toward anxiety, always assuming the worst.

‘This is tough.’

The more subjective perception becomes, the closer reality twists into a nightmare.

It was sickening. I had no sense of time passing.

I struggled to hold onto my sense of self.

Even if the shapes before me were distorted, I could still make out the rough forms of Quilia and the world beyond. That was likely thanks to the intuition granted by Akies Victima.

‘…Anyone without training in self-control would go insane from this.’

Quilia had no idea how horrifying my hallucinations were. Hallucinations existed solely in the realm of subjective perception.

The Quilia who wore Giselle’s face opened a door made of writhing flesh.

Screeeeeeeech!

The door shrieked. Even knowing it was an auditory hallucination, the sound sent chills down my spine.

"We’ve arrived, Luka."

Quilia let go of my hand as she spoke. The overwhelming stench of blood faded, and with each blink, the grotesque flesh-covered walls melted away.

"Are you alright? It seems to have been… more intense than I expected."

Quilia looked at me.

"It was nothing."

I wiped away the sweat dripping from my chin as I replied.