I'm Your Ancestor

Baptism.

The word sounded rather sacred.

If Isolde hadn't known in advance that this was a slaughterhouse for killing Unicorns, she might really have believed their lies.

She raised her head at just the right moment, letting a trace of delight show on her face. "...Can I really go?"

A monk approaching from the side lowered his gaze to her and smiled gently, with absolute certainty.

"Of course. The Holy Court will not let a lost child suffer alone in the darkness."

That smile made goosebumps rise along the back of Isolde's neck.

She obediently lowered her eyes, concealing the chill in them, and whispered, "May the Holy Radiance bear witness."

The Baptism Room's heavy wooden door shut behind her with a dull thud, cutting off the sounds outside.

A monk dressed in an elaborate high-ranking robe stood guard by the door, his hands folded over his chest.

His voice was so even that it carried no inflection. "Please do not be nervous. The baptism of Grey Dove Monastery will merely strip away the unnecessary filth upon you."

Using the motion of lowering her head, Isolde swiftly swept her eyes around the room.

It was cleaner than she had expected—so clean that it seemed deliberate.

The white stone floor had been polished until it reflected like a mirror. Fine grooves in the walls were inlaid with silver threads, interwoven into intricate sun-shaped holy emblems.

On the lofty dome, stained glass formed an image of a saint raising a white dove.

Sunlight filtered through the seams in the glass, bathing the entire room in a soft, bright, almost sacred glow.

Directly ahead stood a Unicorn statue, its wings spread and its forelegs raised, as if ready to charge into the sky at any moment.

The monk walked to the statue and removed a silver cup.

It held a pale golden liquid, perfectly still, giving off a cloyingly sweet fragrance that made one lightheaded.

"Kneel." The monk turned around and looked down at her. "The Holy Radiance will see your pain, and it will forgive your weakness."

There were only the two of them in the vast room. Isolde obediently walked to the statue and looked up at the sacred Unicorn, while a burning sensation flared in her palm again.

It was as though she could hear the Unicorn's dying cry beside her ear. Its torn, wailing voice mingled with the monk's hymn, absurd as some grotesque opera.

The monk did not urge her. He held the silver cup steadily, lowering his voice until it was barely audible, laced with persuasion.

"Everyone who comes here is afraid."

"Afraid to admit their sins, afraid to let go of their obsessions, even afraid to lose the sense of self brought by pain."

As he spoke, he moved closer to Isolde. "But you are fortunate. All who believe in the Holy Radiance will be given a chance at rebirth. As long as you abandon resistance and surrender yourself completely to the Holy Radiance, you will attain eternal peace."

As if she had been utterly bewitched by his words, Isolde's knees gave way, and she slowly sank to the floor.

A flicker of satisfaction passed through the monk's eyes. He stepped forward and tilted the silver cup.

A drop of pale golden water fell precisely onto her forehead.

With a boom—

Countless noisy whispers exploded inside Isolde's mind.

"Let go... Submit... Forget..."

"Pain comes from resistance. Obedience is rebirth."

The light before her eyes began to sway. The Unicorn's face seemed to lower, speaking in the exact same overlapping voice as the monk.

"Tell me, who are you?"

Isolde's eyes grew slightly unfocused.

The monk looked down at her, his fingers resting soothingly against the rim of the silver cup. At last, a confident smile curved across his lips.

"Tell the Holy Radiance, who are you?"

Isolde lowered her head, and her lips moved.

"I am..."

To hear her more clearly, the monk involuntarily leaned closer.

"I'm your ancestor!"

In the next instant, Isolde activated the skill [Soul-Binding Thread], and Soul Threads shot from her hand.

The monk's pupils contracted sharply. Before he could retreat, Soul Threads had wrapped around his throat, wrist, and chest at once.

The silver cup fell to the ground. Pale golden baptism water splashed across the white stone floor and immediately gave off wisps of black smoke.

The monk's face turned deathly pale. He opened his mouth to shout, but the silver threads constricting his throat left him with only broken gasps.

His eyes were wide open. The panic in them was far more pleasing than his earlier look of compassion.

Isolde leaned close to his ear, like a ghost from hell.

"So your so-called baptism is just emptying people's heads and turning them into obedient puppets?"

Despair filled the monk's eyes. The terror of death made his entire body tremble. "The... Holy Court will never..."

Before he could finish his threat, Isolde sharply twisted her wrist.

The Soul Threads instantly bored into his flesh, ripping the soul within him into pieces.

The monk's pupils fully dilated.

His lifeless body collapsed limply to the floor. With his eyes closed, he actually looked somewhat ironically peaceful.

The Baptism Room returned to deathly silence.

Isolde efficiently dragged the body behind the enormous Unicorn statue and hid it there.

She crouched down and, with practiced ease, searched through his robes. She found a bronze access token and slipped it into her clothes.

Then she picked up the silver cup still containing traces of the medicine. A faint gray screen immediately appeared before her eyes:

[Degraded Brainwashing Fluid]

[Description: Prepared from Withered Grass and Low-Grade Purifying Dust. Can weaken the target's independent will. Long-term use will cause dependency, obedience, memory confusion, and other conditions.]

Isolde read it expressionlessly, then gave a cold laugh.

Religious brainwashing always relied on the same cheap tricks.

Too bad for them, that little bit of drug effect was nothing to a transmigrator whose mind was full of modern anti-scam awareness.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she quickly walked to the door. Only after pressing against it and confirming there was no disturbance outside did she take out the map Ullr had given her.

Her fingertip rapidly traced over the map as she reviewed the route in her mind one last time.

The western underground corridor of the Discipline Office.

The Relic Chamber lay at the deepest point, surrounded by three passageways. The Moon-Crown Lock was marked in the "Stillbone Prayer Room" behind the Relic Chamber.

The silver-robed inquisitor was in the Main Chapel.

He was probably preparing to lead the evening prayers, or waiting to drag an "important quarry" like Hewen onto the judgment stand.

The route had just taken shape in her mind when Isolde put the map back into her bag. Heavy footsteps suddenly approached from outside the door.

Her gaze sharpened. In an instant, she restrained all the killing intent around her and, in the blink of an eye, returned to her earlier weak and frightened appearance.

She pulled the Baptism Room's wooden door open a crack, lowered her head, and timidly revealed half her face.

An elderly clergyman stood outside.

He glanced past Isolde's shoulder into the empty Baptism Room. When he failed to see the subordinate who should have been there, impatient anger immediately appeared on his face.

"Why are you the only one here? Where is Monk Hil?"

Isolde lowered her head. "My lord told me to wait here. He said he was going to fetch a new baptism robe."

"That lazy idiot!" the elderly clergyman cursed under his breath. "The Lamp Room has urged him three times already, and he still has the mood to dawdle!"

The old man's gaze swept over the surroundings before finally settling on an extinguished Holy Lamp by the door.

The clergyman pointed at the lamp, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Perfect. You, take this lamp to the Lamp Room and have the wick replaced."

Isolde looked up in feigned shock. "M-Me?"

"Is there anyone else here?" the old man impatiently cut her off. "Give the lamp to the lamp-keeping monks. Once they replace the wick, deliver it straight to the outer corridor of the Discipline Office and report in. Move quickly!"

Left with no choice, Isolde reverently raised the Holy Lamp with both hands.

"Yes."

Seeing how timid she looked, the old man's expression softened slightly. Out of habit, he added a warning.

"Do not touch the wick on the way, and do not ask unnecessary questions. The Holy Lamp is the monastery's 'sun.' If even one goes out, you'll suffer for it."

"I understand. May the Holy Radiance bear witness."

Holding the lamp, Isolde left the Baptism Room. She needed a higher-level access token. Perhaps the Lamp Room had what she wanted.

Using the map she had just memorized, she followed the dark southern corridor downward.

As the temperature steadily dropped, the dense, pungent floral scent of the sanctuary quickly thinned out. Replacing it was an increasingly heavy smell of blood.

Mixed within it was the foul stench of flesh scorched by a red-hot branding iron.

Two ghastly pale dove-headed stone statues stood on either side of the Lamp Room's iron door.

The statues bowed their heads strangely, their wings tightly folded around their bodies. Two eerie greenish-white crystals were embedded in their hollow eye sockets.

When Isolde approached, she took out the bronze access token and inserted it into a slot nearby.

Cold light reflected from the dove-headed statues' eyes. Accompanied by the grinding of heavy metal, the tightly shut stone doors slid open to either side.

A blast of heat mixed with blood and high temperatures rushed at her.

Isolde stepped inside, and the sight that greeted her nearly made her lose the numb expression she had been pretending to wear.

The VIP reading experience has been optimized. Tap the middle of the screen to bring up the menu, where you can conveniently select "Settings," "Previous Page," "Next Page," or "Back to Top."