Chapter 832: We Are All the Price (3/4)

Chapter 832: We Are All the Price (3/4)

“Any last words of plea?”

“I won’t plead for myself, as I said before—what happens today is, in a way, our own doing.”

As she spoke, Marga tightly gripped her daughter’s hand.

“But allow me to say this: at least spare the children. They had no choice in coming into this world; they shouldn’t bear our sins. Our sins are ours to repay.”

Anwo was silent for a moment, then spoke in a very soft voice.

“My word doesn’t count. Even if I let them go, who knows what will happen when the next wave comes—”

Melchior suddenly spoke up.

“They can hide in the cellar. You know that place… if they’re well hidden, they won’t be found.”

Anwo froze, staring into the eyes of Melchior and the old nun. His once resolute expression gradually wavered.

He hesitated for a long while, then forced out a sentence.

“…I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

The old nun stepped forward, looking at him and speaking softly.

“I’ll hide them well. If there’s any trouble, let me bear it. At my age, I don’t have many days left anyway… Their road is still long.”

After a long inner struggle, he finally nodded.

“Hurry up. Pretend I arrived five minutes late.”

“Thank you.”

Marga looked at him and bowed sincerely.

But Anwo didn’t look at her. He just pulled out a bloodstained cigarette pack and shook out a cigarette.

Because of the trembling in his index finger, he snapped three matches before he could light it.

The Vlandians in the church knew their situation well. They made no more futile pleas, said their farewells and gave their instructions to their children, then handed them over to the old nun.

“Mom…” Ruby held her mother’s hand, unwilling to let go, pleading with her eyes.

“Be good…” Marga crouched down and gently stroked her head. “No matter what happens, don’t make a sound. Wait quietly until Dad comes back… Promise me, okay?”

“Mm…”

Ruby let out a soft sob, but eventually followed behind the old nun, who led her to the church’s basement.

Some children couldn’t help crying out, but under their parents’ gaze, they eventually held back the tears brimming in their eyes.

They were Vlandians.

Vlandians do not weep.

From the moment they were born, their tears had already run dry…

The time it took to smoke one cigarette.

The children were all taken to the basement, and even the old nun returned. Only the adults remained in the church hall.

Anwo dropped his cigarette butt on the floor and stamped it out, then looked at Marga.

“Have you decided how to die?”

Marga glanced at her compatriots around her, then looked at him calmly.

“Use a gun. With blood and sound, no one else should come.”

Anwo curled the corner of his mouth.

“They’ll still come, but maybe they won’t look too closely… Silver Moon Goddess above, forgive your follower’s helpless act.”

With that, he pulled the bolt and chambered a round.

But just as he was about to act, Isher, who had been silent all along, stepped in front of him and stood still, staring at him.

Anwo frowned, his sharp eyes fixed on the man with the bandaged forehead.

“All you’re doing is adding one more corpse. Don’t think I can’t do it.”

Isher looked at him expressionlessly.

“…I never thought that. There’s nothing in this world you can’t do. But after you act, then what?”

Anwo said coldly.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? We’re fellow believers—how could I not be concerned?”

Isher narrowed his eyes, and a hint of cunning suddenly surfaced on his righteous face.

“Those children know your name. If I were them, I wouldn’t thank you for sparing their lives—I’d seek revenge for their fathers’ deaths.”

The moment the words fell, a stir ran through the crowd at the church entrance. Their faces almost simultaneously showed a faint trace of shock and panic.

Not just them!

Even Melchior and Marga shot Isher looks of shock and terror, wondering why he would say such a thing.

Was this man insane?!

They had barely managed to save the children!

Sure enough, Anwo’s eyes narrowed like a hungry wolf.

His index finger rubbed against the trigger as he said softly.

“…Should I thank you for the reminder?”

“No need to thank me, because besides those children, everyone here knows who killed them. Including me, standing before you, including Mr. Melchior.”

Isher grinned, staring intently into his eyes.

At that moment, he no longer resembled some ethereal Bohr, but a cunning rat.

A rat bold enough to bare its teeth at a wolf!

“…I bet you’re regretting it now, even thinking of killing me, the other believers here, even Mr. Melchior. But I tell you, it’s useless. Even if everyone here dies, those outside will still remember what happened here.”

“How many can you kill? Can you kill your superiors too? You can’t. He’ll commend you for your service, and you won’t be able to refuse! The Vlandians will surely return, and when they do, you’re dead. This blood debt will be laid at your feet!”

“Never mind the Vlandians—even the Alliance won’t let you off… Don’t spout that nonsense about going to hell after death. I know you too well!”

“You don’t believe any of that. You’re just looking for an excuse to comfort yourself, am I right? Otherwise, why are you afraid? What’s there to fear about Vlandian retaliation? What are you scared of?”

“Shut up!” Anwo roared in fury, leveling the gun at his nose. “Stop projecting your filth onto me, you dirty rat! Even if I killed those children, it would be to root out future trouble for the New Empire!”

Isher looked at him with contempt, not even raising his hands, just clicking his tongue softly.

“…Tsk, tsk, look at you. ‘A thousand tribes, a thousand gods’ isn’t the faith of the Silver Moon sect. A follower of the Silver Moon Goddess wouldn’t call people rats. A wolf in sheep’s clothing—open your eyes and look. The devout are standing right here. As for you, deep down, you don’t believe a word you say!”

“So what?” Anwo stared into his eyes, murderous intent boiling around him.

“So what?” Isher fixed his gaze on the enraged Anwo, speaking each word deliberately. “I can make you live! Or rather, there’s only one way for you to survive: pretend to kill everyone here, but kill no one.”

“Impossible!” Anwo lowered his voice, letting out a growl. “The city garrison has surrendered. Now all of West Sailport belongs to Yanush! Soon the suburbs… even the entire Lion Province will be his domain. They can’t escape!”

"Does that include you?" Isher asked, staring at him intently, continuing, "There's something I've been turning over in my mind for ages and can't figure out. Maybe you can give me an answer—why is it that the one sent to Silvermoon Church to do the dirty work happens to be a follower of the Silvermoon faith?"

Anwo replied in a hoarse voice.

"Because I know the roads around here pretty well."

Isher let out a scornful laugh.

"Do you even believe that yourself?"

"..." Anwo looked at him in silence, a vague answer already forming in his mind, but he was unwilling to speak it.

Isher met his eyes and said it for him.

"If this isn't born of some twisted amusement or desperate madness, then there's only one possibility... They all knew this was a dirty job, having already planned their escape routes, so they had to pick the least trustworthy person from among those around them to do it."

"You're a follower of the Silvermoon faith—no one's a better patsy than you. This is your ticket in. Do it well, and they might trust you for a while. But if things go south, they'll hand you over without a second thought, not themselves."

Anwo gritted his teeth.

"...Do you have any proof?"

Isher gave a cold laugh, stepped forward, and fixed his gaze on him and the rifle trembling slightly in his hands.

"What proof do you need? Is this a courtroom trial? There are indeed madmen in the rebel army, but is everyone mad? Someone told me long ago that this place is crawling with opportunists, sharper than anyone! I can believe that one of them—Janusz or your direct superior, Abusek—has gone mad, but I refuse to believe they're all mad!"

"You mean... someone gave them an escape route?" Anwo stared at him in disbelief, swallowing hard. "...Who?"

Isher curled his lip.

"Who knows? Maybe the Legion, maybe the Alliance, or even the Corporations or the Academy? Just the big shots of the Wasteland—you and I are nothing but their pawns. No, I should say you are... a useless wretch like me doesn't have that honor."

He wasn't capable of analyzing the mastermind behind it all.

He knew nothing of the Legion or the Alliance, and even less of the Corporations or the Academy—only picking up those names by chance while listening to Mr. Melchior read the newspaper.

Those people had their own plans for the Wasteland's future, and now their spheres of influence were rubbing against each other, friction inevitable.

Perhaps someone intended to turn the Province of Boro into a battlefield.

He didn't know who that someone was.

But he simply refused to believe that on this land teeming with opportunists, every single one who popped up was a madman.

How could that be?

There was only one explanation.

Some were pretending to be mad, or all of them were.

They just relied on different things, and since he happened not to know what they relied on, he, kept in the dark, thought they were all insane.

The one who couldn't make sense of anything, on the other hand, seemed like the only normal one.

The church fell silent.

Anwo unconsciously lowered the muzzle of his gun, staring at the man before him in disbelief.

Just then, Marguerite suddenly spoke.