Seal of the Four-Colored Horse (VII)

"I saw the Lamb open the first of the seven seals..."

A low chant echoed through the dim church.

An old man in a pristine white priest's robe knelt before the statue of the Holy Mother. Twelve black candles were arranged around him in a bizarre inverted cross.

When the scripture reached the words, "Come," he slammed his head heavily against the floor like a sinner making confession.

The first bell rang.

The old man slowly raised his head, dark red beads of blood seeping from the wound split open on his forehead.

With trembling hands, he lifted a bowstring and wrapped it around his withered neck as though donning a sacred sash. A crown woven from thorns pierced his scalp, blood trickling down.

The second bell rang.

He drove a knife into his own thigh, and the gushing blood dyed his papal robe scarlet.

Then came the third...

The fourth...

A pained wheeze escaped the old man's throat, yet he stubbornly continued the horrifying ritual.

At last, the four cries of "Come" and the four bell tolls had ended. The priest was covered in wounds, his white robe stained crimson.

Strangely, although he had lost enough blood to kill him, his wrinkled face glowed with an unnatural infant-like flush, and fanatic fire burned in his eyes.

"It is time to offer Holy Communion to my lord!"

At his words, the surrounding cultists cut open the third joint of their ring fingers and let their blood drip onto the candlewicks upon the altar.

The candles simultaneously began to ooze wax the same color as blood.

"Squish—squish—"

A strange sound of flesh writhing came from within the priest's body. The bloody wax turned into little snakes, crawling along the grooves to beneath him and automatically filling the wounds on his body.

Distinct swallowing sounds and heartbeats rang out.

The bone-deep wounds rapidly healed at a visible pace, leaving only hideous scars behind, like some blasphemous stigmata.

"I can feel my lord's yearning to be born. Tonight, tonight, the Holy Lord shall descend!"

The old priest shouted loudly.

Though the wounds had vanished, the pain from the scars lingered without end.

Yet he savored it.

"He yearns... He rejoices..."

The old priest murmured, pressing his palm tightly against his chest.

Each beat came with strange writhing. He knew that the Holy Infant was breathing inside his heart, sucking his blood as it waited for the moment of its birth.

"Soon... soon..."

The old priest raised his head.

A benevolent smile hung on his face as his dry lips trembled and uttered the final prayer:

"The Lamb has been slain, the Holy Communion is prepared, all that remains is—"

"There is no after."

With a tremendous crash, the church doors collapsed.

Moonlight pierced forcefully into the dark church, illuminating the old priest's stunned face at the center of the inverted cross.

A cane cut a silver arc through the air.

Holmes precisely drove the sword hidden within his cane into the weak point of the ritual formation, and all twelve black candles went out at once.

Bang!

Watson's Webley Revolver spat flame, its first bullet punching straight through the old priest's shoulder.

Seeing that the man remained standing, the doctor decisively swung his gun around and shot down three cultists charging toward him.

Armed detectives and investigators filed in, followed by priests holding silver crosses. Holy water splashed onto the ground as they moved, sizzling as it burned.

"How... how did you?!"

The old priest staggered back, his bloodshot eyes wide. "I clearly erased every trace that Radiance could see. How could you possibly still find your way here?"

His question was destined to receive no answer.

At the other end of the Sound Transmitter, Ye Yan sat restlessly.

He could not see the scene of the detective and doctor besieging the cultists. From the electrical static and sounds of various objects colliding, he could only conclude that the battle was fierce.

Damn it!

Why did every great detective have to get into a fight while solving cases?

Fortunately, setting aside the black technology of a certain eternal elementary school student, Holmes could be considered the combat ceiling among great detectives. He was practically a fusion of Flower Country's Yuan Fang and Lord Di.

With Watson being just as capable in a fight, nothing should go wrong, right?

[March 12, 1881—Saint Helier]

The familiar scratch of a quill pen sounded by his ear.

Ye Yan's eyes lit up.

You're finally here, my dear real-time battlefield reporter—Mr. Diary!

The sword cane swept out.

Holmes effortlessly knocked a cultist flying.

With his impressive swordsmanship, he sent this group of cultists, who only knew how to dodge and hide, fleeing in panic.

There were no combat-specialized "Sharpness" users in the Sunset Church.

After all, the ritual for awakening "Sharpness" was strictly controlled by the Administration. Cultists could only try their luck through heretical rituals.

Though the cultists before him possessed many bizarre abilities, setting aside the monsters they summoned, their frontal combat abilities were no different from those of ordinary people.

However, he seemed to have stood out a little too much and was immediately targeted by three cultists at once.

Bang!

A gunshot rang out, and the Rotting Corpse preparing to stab him in the back was shot through the head.

It was support from Detective Lestrade.

Holmes's expression remained unchanged, his gray-blue eyes flickering slightly. Through minute tremors in the air, subtle shifts in the wind, and even abnormalities in the refraction of light, he pinpointed the exact positions of the two hidden attackers in an instant.

A flash of sword light.

The two figures concealing themselves were sent flying backward.

With fighting this intense, casualties were inevitable. Relying on his ability to conceal himself, Watson carried a medical kit and administered emergency treatment to his severely injured comrades.

"Ewan, I'm going around the back to launch a surprise attack."

Watson explained to the youth on the other end, urgency in his voice. "Don't panic if you can't hear anything later. I'll hide the Sound Transmitter behind the statue."

Ye Yan understood that this was a reminder not to make any noise.

The clamor from the Sound Transmitter suddenly became faint, like the whisper of insects in the woods.

The sounds grew weaker and weaker before swiftly falling silent.

Everyone present was focused on the fight. No one noticed a silent figure quietly sneaking through the shadows.

"Everyone, stop!"

The old priest suddenly let out an angry roar.

"The entire underground of Red Lion Street is buried with timed bombs! If you don't want to be blasted into the sky, get the hell out immediately!"

The previously chaotic situation instantly fell silent.

Watson took the opportunity to approach his target.

Holmes caught sight of the doctor's movements from the corner of his eye and knowingly stepped forward to draw everyone's attention.

"I know you planted bombs beneath Red Lion Street, so why do you think we waited until midnight to come arrest you after obtaining your exact location?"

"Could it be that you..."

The old priest's expression abruptly changed.

"That's right, exactly what you're thinking." Holmes calmly took a step forward. "And besides... why do you think I would waste words on a deranged criminal?"

Before his words had faded, a black shadow shot out from behind the statue like lightning.

While everyone had been distracted by the conversation, Watson used the cover of the church's shadows to quietly close in.

Now, he lunged forward. His sturdy arm clamped around the old priest's neck like an iron hoop, and with a swift hold, he slammed the man heavily to his knees.

"Stop this, Pastor Austin."

As Watson spoke, he moved to fasten the Administration's specially made sealing shackles around the priest's wrists.

"Before this case occurred, Bishop Alvin had always hoped for your return. He believed that a devout believer like you had only strayed down the wrong path when you turned away from Radiance."

"But you actually did something this insane!"

"Abandon Radiance?"

Pastor Austin let out a scornful laugh.

"No, I did not abandon Radiance. It was the false god who deceived Radiance, who deceived us! Alvin is called a prophet in vain. Has he not seen the future decline of the Sanctum?"

Struggling, he raised his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the statue. "For over a thousand years, the false god has never once manifested a miracle, no matter how devoutly we prayed!"

"What despair runs deeper than losing one's faith? Let me tell you—it is silence! Silence!"

If that were not the case, why would they have gone through so many schisms and ultimately splintered into different sects?

"And the Lord will never abandon His believers!"

In Pastor Austin's words, he was not a traitor to the Sanctum, but the Lord's most devout fanatic.

This astonishing declaration not only shocked Watson, but also twisted the faces of the cultists who were still stubbornly resisting.

"Traitor! The Crow Society will peck out your tongue!"

"I should have known you were a faithless maggot! You clearly said that you had already abandoned Radiance and seen through the Sanctum's hypocritical mask before joining us!"

"Swear upon your mother's burial shroud, I—"

The cultists began cursing regardless of the situation. Several of the most extreme even turned and lunged directly at Pastor Austin.

Pastor Austin burst into laughter.

"I have already received the Lord's response. You damned heretics, wait to receive the Lord's judgment!"

With that, he began crazily smashing his forehead against the ground, blood quickly staining the cracks between the floor tiles.

Watson had no choice but to tighten his restraint.

Unexpectedly, astonishing strength erupted from Pastor Austin's aged shell, and he broke free of Watson's hold in one motion.

Watson was about to step forward and restrain him again when Holmes's shout stopped him. "Watson, get away from there!"

He abruptly halted, then saw the old priest cry out like a madman, "The sinners of Red Lion Street were originally Holy Communion prepared for my lord's nativity ceremony. Replacing them with sinners like you, who obstruct the birth of the New Lord, will do just as well."

Pastor Austin waved his arms, his withered body swelling at a visible rate.

"For the Holy Lord's descent, it is time to offer our bodies and souls!"

An unusual craving suddenly seized his heart.

Hungry...

So hungry...

Everyone's senses were amplified severalfold.

Watson felt his stomach suddenly cramp as an uncontrollable flood of saliva filled his mouth.

It was as though appetite had quietly raised its head.

The enticing scent wafting from Pastor Austin entered his nostrils, and an instinctive longing made his Adam's apple bob uncontrollably.

Watson could hear swallowing sounds rising and falling all around him.

"Everyone, retreat immediately!"

Holmes's face had rarely turned pale, but his eyes remained clear.

"I'll stay behind and kill the aberration that is about to be born."