CHAPTER 76: JUDGEMENT

The Berserker, still flushed with aura, stepped forward and glared at the four. His lips curled into a mocking snarl. "You bastards really thought you could touch the Goddess’s offerings? You’ve only succeeded in painting yourselves as fools."

"Cuff them," Xavier said calmly.

The guards obeyed immediately, iron shackles clamping down on wrists and ankles. The thieves winced and cursed, their bodies too damaged to resist.

Jack growled, his voice hoarse, full of hatred. "Don’t... don’t think this is the end. Our syndicate will—"

Crack!

Xavier’s boot pressed down on his shoulder, silencing him with a sharp grunt. His eyes glowed faintly, silver and merciless. "Threats from a man on his knees mean nothing. You had your chance. You wasted it."

Silas trembled, his broken jaw making his words slur. "...Who... who are you?"

Xavier tilted his head, his smirk cruel. "Just a guard. Lady Seraphina’s guard."

The words hit them harder than the kick had. The guards behind Xavier chuckled grimly.

"You hear that?" one jeered. "You’ve been beaten by a mere guard. What does that say about your strength?"

Crowe clenched his teeth, shame burning in his chest. "...No... we’re... we’re supposed to be elite...!"

"You’re supposed to be nothing," another guard cut in sharply. "Sneaking into holy grounds like rats... you’ll be remembered as cowards, nothing more."

Veyra lifted her head slowly, her eyes blazing with a mixture of rage and despair. "...You think killing us here ends it? You don’t know who we serve. You don’t know—"

Xavier crouched down, his gaze locking with hers, sharp as blades. "Then tell me. Who do you serve? Who sent you?"

Her lips trembled, but she said nothing.

Xavier chuckled softly, straightening. "As I thought. Loyalty born of fear, not honor. Pathetic."

The guards finished binding the thieves, their voices laced with satisfaction. "Struggle all you want — you’re not slipping these chains. Not after Sir Xavier shattered your bodies."

One of them leaned in close to Jack, sneering. "How does it feel, thief? To be beaten, not by kings or generals, but by the very dogs you mocked?"

Jack’s silence was answer enough. His shoulders sagged, his breath shallow, despair finally bleeding through his fury.

Xavier turned, his cloak brushing against the stone, his voice echoing like judgment itself.

"Take them to the holding chambers. The church will decide their fate."

The guards saluted. "Yes, Sir!"

The four Shadows, once proud and ruthless, were dragged across the courtyard in chains. Their masks cracked, their blood trailing behind them.

Xavier watched, silver eyes calm, unshaken.

"You wanted to drag us into the dirt," he murmured coldly. "But tonight, the moon drags you into the light."

The moon still lingered high above when the heavy courtyard gates swung open. Guards marched in, armor clinking in unison, chains dragging behind them as they pulled the four captured Shadows into the torchlight.

Their masks were cracked, their bodies battered, their limbs restrained. Every step they took left dark streaks of blood on the stone floor.

At the sight, Seraphina rose from her seat at the far end of the hall. Her silver hair gleamed faintly in the moonlight pouring through the stained-glass windows, her figure regal, her expression cold.

"So these," she said softly, her voice like a blade wrapped in silk, "are the shadows who dared to strike at the Church of the Moon?"

Her words echoed, laced with quiet fury.

The guards shoved the thieves forward, forcing them to their knees.

Jack spat blood onto the floor, glaring up at her through his broken mask. "Noble wench," he rasped, his voice thick with hate. "Don’t act like you’ve won. You’ll see our mark again. Stronger blades than ours will cut through your walls, and not even your goddess will save you."

The guards tensed, hands gripping their weapons, but Seraphina only smiled faintly, though her eyes were sharp as daggers.

"Empty words from a man in chains," she said coolly. "Tell me, thief—when your bones ache and your blood drains into the dirt, will you still sing so boldly?"

Jack’s teeth ground audibly, but he couldn’t find a retort.

A soft, steady voice interrupted the tension.

"That will do."

All eyes turned as Lucy, the head nun, stepped forward. She moved like a vision of purity in her white robes, silver hair catching the glow of moonlight. Yet despite her beauty and grace, her gaze carried no softness for the captured men. Her lips were pressed thin, her tone firm.

"These men did not just attempt to steal wheat and coin," she said, her voice carrying easily across the hall. "They defiled the sanctity of the Goddess’s offerings. Their blades were raised not at nobles or guards alone, but at Her name. Such crimes are not trivial."

Veyra Nightpetal raised her chin, her lips curling in a venomous smile. "Spare me your pious speeches, nun. If your goddess was watching, why didn’t she strike us down herself?"

Lucy’s eyes glowed faintly, as though reflecting starlight. "She did. You simply didn’t see whose hand she used."

Her gaze flicked briefly—pointedly—to Xavier standing quietly at Seraphina’s side.

The thieves’ faces stiffened at that, though none spoke.

One of the guards chuckled, his voice mocking. "The shadows mocked us as fodder, yet in the end it was Sir Xavier who dragged them into the dirt. Perhaps the Moon does not need to descend when her chosen walks among us."

Xavier smirked faintly but said nothing, his silence only making the words strike harder.

Lucy folded her hands before her, her voice still calm but edged with steel. "They will be confined until dawn. At morning prayer, their judgment will be sealed in the presence of the Moon’s light. Their fates are no longer in their own hands."

Crowe Redhand laughed bitterly, though blood dripped down his chin. "Judgment? Pah. All I see are dogs clinging to rituals to justify their chains. Call it judgment if it soothes your pride, but we know what this is—slaughter dressed in white robes."

Seraphina’s heel clicked as she stepped closer, her cold smile sharp as glass. "And what would you call what you intended to do tonight? Strike in the dark, steal from the weak, poison the faithful? Don’t prattle to me of slaughter when your hands are soaked in it."

The hall grew tense, the air thick with the clash of will between noble, nun, and captive assassins.

Finally Lucy raised a hand, her tone cutting through the rising heat. "Enough. Their tongues are sharp, but their strength has fled. There will be no more taunts tonight."

She turned to the guards. "Take them to the inner cells. Bind their wounds so they live long enough to hear their sentence. Tomorrow, the Goddess will decide the rest."

The guards saluted sharply. "Yes, Lady Lucy!"

Chains rattled as the Shadows were dragged away, their curses echoing in the hall until distance swallowed them.

Only when the doors shut did silence fall.

Seraphina exhaled softly, her cold mask easing just slightly as she looked at Lucy. "You carry your burden with calm grace, Head Nun. Even with vipers spitting at your feet."

Lucy smiled faintly, though her eyes remained solemn. "The Moon teaches us that shadows exist only to remind us of the light. Tonight... that truth was proven."

Her gaze flicked again, just for a moment, toward Xavier. She said nothing more, but her silence spoke volumes.

Seraphina, noticing, narrowed her eyes ever so slightly.

Xavier only smirked, enjoying the unspoken tension without adding a word.

The night was not yet over, but for now, the battle had ended.

Morning came with silver still painted across the sky. Though the sun had risen, the great domes of the Church of the Moon caught its light in a way that bathed the marble steps in pale radiance, as if the goddess herself refused to surrender to daylight.

The bells tolled slowly, each strike reverberating through stone and bone alike. The people had gathered — nobles, priests, peasants who had come to see justice done. Rows of nuns in spotless white filled the aisles, their soft chanting weaving like mist through the cavernous chamber. Incense curled into the air, sweet and heavy, carrying the scent of lilies and cold stone.

At the very front stood the altar of the Moon, a silver disc carved into the floor, reflecting the dim light from above.

The four captured thieves were dragged in chains into the center, their masks stripped away, faces battered and bruised. Guards forced them to their knees in a square formation before the altar. Their eyes darted, their lips twisted in either defiance or despair.

At the head of the dais, the Head Nun Lucy stepped forward. She was resplendent in ceremonial robes of pure white embroidered with silver threads. A circlet rested upon her brow, catching the pale glow, and in her hand she carried the Moonstaff, symbol of her office.

Her voice rang clear, soft yet filled with unshakable authority.

"By the decree of the Goddess of Moon and Fertility, by the will of the Emperor and Empress who safeguard this land, and under the witness of the faithful gathered here... judgment shall be passed!"