She lowered her head, her gaze fixed tightly on the back of her hand, caked with dust and blood.
This filthy shell of hers was, merely by existing before such a great being, an unbearable blasphemy to her. If this body did not still need to await god's final judgment and sentencing, she would have snapped her own neck long ago, lest she continue to soil god's eyes by remaining here.
Zealot gritted her teeth, barely straightened herself, and took two steps toward Qianyi. Then, without the slightest hesitation, both her knees slammed heavily into the stage's wooden boards.
She knelt down, pressing her forehead tightly to the ground. Her entire body curled into itself as she assumed a dogeza posture of repentance and began to confess:
"I have defiled the faith... defiled the illustrious names of the successive leaders... and defiled a great being such as yourself..."
"Great god... please punish me... unleash your most merciless wrath..."
"Whatever the punishment... even if this filthy body is flayed and torn apart bone by bone... as long as it can cleanse even one ten-thousandth, one hundred-millionth of my sins... I am willing to do anything... anything..."
The utterly oblivious female Assassin continued blaming herself for her inadequacies.
She kept her head lowered, not even daring to look up at Qianyi, afraid that her filthy gaze would taint the being before her. Tears forced out by sheer instinct streamed endlessly down her face, completely blurring her vision.
Saber Richard the Lionheart, standing several steps away, watched this unfold. He released the hilt of his sword, folded his arms over his chest, and repeatedly lifted and lowered the ball of his front foot as he entered deep thought.
As a king of England who had once commanded armies by the hundreds of thousands,