Inside the karst cave, the surging roar of the tide grew ever more vast and muffled, like ten thousand thunderclaps rumbling through a gorge. The frigid Magic Tide it stirred up carried a piercing howl, like ghosts weeping and wolves howling, making their scalps tingle.
So strong!
She had yet to glimpse the monster's full form, yet its leaking aura alone made Joan of Arc, who bore the brunt of it, go cold and stiff in all four limbs. Her heart spasmed and pounded uncontrollably, nearly leaving her unable to breathe.
"Believing in her homeland, only to be betrayed!
Believing in justice, only to be slandered by the light and branded with sin!
Believing in God, bestowed with a revelation to save the world, yet having her prayers go unanswered!
Joan of Arc, my beautiful saint, pure as ever, and yet so foolish.
Since devout praise cannot win the Lord's mercy, let me lead you toward true salvation!"
Surrounded by sea demons, Gilles de Rais gazed from afar at the Maid of Orléans before him. Raising both arms, he used his crazed posture to accuse fate and the gods in place of that pure figure.
"Ohohohoho! O God, I, Gilles de Rais, shall raise the banner of salvation here and hold for You a feast of death and decay! All the abandoned may gather here. I shall lead them, I shall command them. The voices of hatred raised by us abandoned ones shall surely reach God's ears.
Lord in Heaven, I shall praise Your name with words of rebuke!"
At the same time, that crazed figure sank beneath layer upon layer of tentacles into the writhing mass of flesh, worshipping chaos and madness in their ultimate forms.
In an instant, the terrifying shadow within the Abyssal Layers seemed to break