"And these... these are my beloved Fingers! My beloved Fingers!" Petelgeuse shrieked, gesturing to the ten robed cultists flanking him. They stood motionless, like clockwork dolls whose springs had snapped, their silence a stark contrast to their master's mania.
"The Archbishop of Sloth..." Emilia's voice wavered. She felt a cold prickle of dread. Among the Witch Cult, the Sin Archbishops were synonymous with disaster, and Petelgeuse was the most notorious, a man who had authored countless atrocities. She forced herself to remain steady, though every instinct screamed that he was a monster draped in human skin.
"What is your purpose here?" she demanded.
The man's skull-like face twisted into a jagged grin. "My purpose? To follow the Witch's will! Resurrection! Resurrection! Resurrection! I shall bring her back! And you, the Vessel, must face my trial! To respond to the Witch's love, I cannot be slothful! I cannot be slothful!"
He shoved his fingers into his mouth, biting down with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across his chin, yet he didn't flinch; instead, he seemed to bask in a state of dark euphoria. Then, his bloodshot eyes locked onto Kiyotaka Ayanokoji.
So, this is the Cult, Ayanokoji thought. The madness was far beyond his expectations. He parsed the words: Vessel, Trial, Resurrection. He deduced that Petelgeuse intended to test if Emilia was a suitable host for the Witch's soul, though whether this was based on truth or a fixation on her appearance remained unclear.
The Bishop's gaze turned reverent. "You, the favored one! You brought the Vessel here so diligently! Your diligence puts us to shame! We are so slothful! So slothful!"
Ayanokoji narrowed his eyes. Favored? Love? It was a high probability that Petelgeuse was reacting to the "Witch's Afterglow" clinging to his body.
"Ayanokoji, what is he talking about?" Emilia asked, her confusion mounting. She knew Ayanokoji wasn't a spy, but Petelgeuse was addressing him like a comrade.
"I don't have enough data to explain this," Ayanokoji replied smoothly. He sensed that Petelgeuse harbored no immediate hostility toward him—the "Afterglow" was finally serving as a strategic asset.
"Enough talk! Die!" Ram's patience snapped. The grief of Rem's death had left her temperament on a hair-trigger. She unleashed a violent gale of wind magic, intent on shredding Petelgeuse where he stood. Without her horn, her mana reserves were fragile, but she poured everything she had into the strike.
The wind blade roared forward, only to stop dead several meters from Petelgeuse, as if striking an invisible barrier.
"What?" Ram gasped. Emilia followed with her own barrage of ice, but the shards shattered in mid-air against the same unseen wall.
"Ahhh! You... you... you want the Vessel to flee the trial? Slothful! Slothful! Slothful!" Petelgeuse began clawing at his own face, his nails gouging deep rifts into his pale skin.
Ayanokoji squinted. In his vision, blurred black outlines surged from Petelgeuse's back—writhing, tentacle-like limbs that lashed out with mechanical violence. They were the force blocking the magic, yet Emilia and Ram seemed completely oblivious to their presence.
"You are so slothful! To attempt to escape such a glorious sight! I must be diligent! I must respond to the Witch's love! Pain and terror are merely the sacrifices we offer before Love!" Petelgeuse screamed. Ram stumbled, her legs trembling as her mana ran dry.
"It's perfect! A face that recalls the Witch herself! A fresh Vessel! We must hold the trial! We must see if the Witch Factor can take root!" Petelgeuse's laughter grew shrill. "If the Vessel is not empty, it will interfere with the soul... but the contents? They are unnecessary!"
"MY BRAIN IS TREMBLING!"
The Bishop's body snapped into a grotesque angle, bones popping audibly. The black limbs—the Unseen Hands—shot forward like arrows toward Emilia. She stood frozen, her eyes unable to track the invisible death approaching her.
Ayanokoji moved. Only he could see the trajectories. He lunged forward, shoving Emilia aside with a sharp force while grabbing the collapsing Ram with his other hand.
CRACK!
A massive crater exploded in the dirt where Emilia had been standing.
"What happened?" Emilia gasped, her heart hammering. If not for Ayanokoji, she would have been crushed into a pulp.
"Good work, Ayanokoji!" Puck called out from the air.
Ayanokoji's action was the result of a split-second calculation: saving them was more valuable than letting them die. He knew Petelgeuse was too erratic to control, and his intelligence on the Cult was insufficient to justify an alliance. Emilia and Ram were known quantities—tools he could already manipulate for his own benefit. Their magic held too much strategic value to lose now.
However, a direct fight was suicide. He could see the hands, but he couldn't share his vision. Verbalizing the movements would be too slow.
"Puck, release the Smokescreen!" Ayanokoji ordered.
"Shamak!" Puck responded instantly.
A thick, pitch-black fog swallowed the clearing. Under the cover of the darkness, Ayanokoji grabbed the girls and retreated toward the manor. He wasn't just running; he was creating a loud enough disturbance to draw Roswaal's attention. The Court Mage was the only one with enough firepower to neutralize a Sin Archbishop.
"Darkness! Darkness! Darkness!" Petelgeuse's bellows echoed behind them as his hands thrashed wildly through the fog.
"What does he mean?" Petelgeuse gnawed on his knuckles until he hit bone. "He is favored, yet he opposes me? How can my lowly self understand this?" Then his head snapped toward the retreating shadows. "He saw them... he saw my Unseen Hands! Unforgivable! Unacceptable! He must be erased! Find them! Be diligent and find the Vessel and the one who betrayed her love!"
The ten cultists vanished into the shadows like ink in water. Petelgeuse's face twisted into a final, manic grin. "I cannot be slothful! I shall go myself!" He unleashed dozens of hands, pulling himself through the trees with terrifying speed.