The Unforgivable Sinner

"You're twisting the facts!"

The silver-robed inquisitor slammed his white-bone staff heavily against the ground. The golden holy light above, once sacred and tranquil, froze solid, then crashed down upon the witch below like a mountain bearing catastrophic ruin.

"Whether I'm twisting the facts or not, you know better than anyone! You're just far too skilled at giving the butcher's knife in your hands a gentle, pleasant name!"

Terrifying pressure descended. Isolde's knees buckled sharply, and her bones gave a strained crack as she nearly fell to her knees on the spot.

Yet she forcibly withstood that pressure through sheer, almost self-destructive willpower.

[You are enduring high-level holy pressure.]

[HP decreased by 30%]

The scarlet notification appeared in Isolde's vision like a death warrant.

Holy light pressed down upon her, scorching her skin until it burned. Even breathing became extraordinarily difficult.

The silver-robed inquisitor looked down at her, his voice cold. "Kneel and repent, heretic."

The corner of Isolde's lips curved upward.

"Keep dreaming."

Her five fingers clenched tightly.

Dark-red Soul Threads shot from her sleeve and pierced the ground, supporting her body as it was about to be forced down.

More Soul Threads wrapped around her calves, arms, and waist, as if stitching a temporary suit of armor onto her body.

She raised her head, pushed off hard with her feet, and used the pull of the Soul Threads to charge toward the silver-robed inquisitor.

She was not fast. She could even be called clumsy.

The silver-robed inquisitor assumed she was trying to fight him at close range.

"Foolish."

The white-bone staff swept sideways, and the gathered holy light instantly transformed into a massive crescent blade that slashed solidly toward her shoulder.

Holy light tore through flesh. A mist of blood burst forth, and Isolde was flung into the air by the force.

[HP decreased by 40%.]

[Warning: Left shoulder critically injured.]

[Warning: Holy light corrosion deepening.]

The agonizing pain drew a muffled, miserable groan from her.

But compared to everything she had suffered in her previous life, what did this pain amount to?

The more it hurt, the more excited her soul became.

Just as the silver-robed inquisitor thought this overconfident witch was finally about to be judged,

he saw the faint smile curling across the face of the witch suspended in midair.

The silver-robed inquisitor finally realized something was wrong.

Then he saw Isolde twist her body in midair, like a lone swallow with broken wings yet savage resolve. Soul Threads flew from her fingertips and hooked onto the Moon-Crown Lock nearby.

"Stop!!" the silver-robed inquisitor roared.

Using the speed from the Soul Threads' pull, Isolde crossed the silver-robed inquisitor's defense and pressed Unicorn's Last Wish, filled with lingering will, against the violently resonating Moon-Crown Lock.

The pattern of the mark spread across her palm. Then, the final layer of the sealing array suddenly shattered.

Freed from the suppression of sealing magic, the hypocritical shell called "sacrifice" and "sanctity" was violently torn apart, exposing the festering pus and blood within.

Boom—!!

In an instant, countless shrill, miserable cries of despair became a black-red storm that erupted wildly from the cracks in the lock's core.

The once bright and peaceful prayer chamber was flooded by cold deathly energy. The white bones embedded in the walls shattered inch by inch beneath the wash of resentment.

The golden domain of holy light, as though ink had been poured over it, was devoured until it was riddled with holes, emitting the cracking sounds of something unable to bear the strain.

Forced back several steps by the violent black-red storm, the silver-robed inquisitor had countless tears cut into his robe, and the composure he prided himself on crumbled bit by bit.

Through layers of black fog, he roared at Isolde:

"Witch! Look at what you've done! You've unleashed darkness that endangers the world! You will become an unforgivable sinner!"

A fierce black wind rose, whipping Isolde's long black hair wildly through the air.

She stood alone at the very center of the storm of resentment.

Half her body was stained with blood. Her injuries were so severe that she had to nail several Soul Threads into the ground just to barely keep herself upright.

The hand that had held Unicorn's Last Wish had been burned into a bloody pulp.

Yet she seemed unable to feel pain. Like a madwoman who had lost all sense of pain, she straightened her back against the storm.

She lifted her face and looked at the silver-robed inquisitor as if looking down on him, her lips curling upward.

"Don't make it sound so ugly, silver robe. This endangers the world?"

Her voice pierced through the roars of countless unicorn wraiths, every word striking precisely against the silver-robed inquisitor's eardrums.

"This is merely the rotten crime you hid beneath holy light back then... finally coming out to see the sun today."

As her words fell, Isolde swung her sword with her right hand, completely severing the final connection of the seal.

The resentment of the Unicorn clan erupted.

Dark phantoms transformed into roaring beasts, carrying centuries of accumulated pain and despair, along with cries from snowy nights, as they surged toward the silver-robed inquisitor to tear him apart.

The silver-robed inquisitor could no longer spare attention for Isolde. His face turned ashen as he slammed his staff into the ground. Holy power burst from his entire body without restraint, trying to build a defensive line before him.

"May holy radiance never perish, banish the darkness—!"

But this time, the holy radiance he prided himself on failed.

The Unicorn horn core serving as the heart of his staff suddenly trembled violently amid the storm of resentment from its own kind.

Before the silver-robed inquisitor could command it, this treasure of the Holy Court abruptly split open with a pitch-black crack under the force of karmic return.

"What?!"

The light at the top of the staff went out, and the silver-robed inquisitor's pupils contracted violently.

Even the weapon he used to judge heretics had been stripped from the victims. And now, the victims refused to provide the butcher with power any longer.

Without the magical enhancement of his staff, that sacred defensive barrier was effortlessly torn apart before the black storm.

Countless black-red unicorn shadows, wrapped in raging wind, rammed into him and sent his entire body flying. He crashed heavily into the ruined wall behind him.

The lofty inquisitor spat out a mouthful of blood. His silver robe had been corroded into tatters by the darkness, and he was in a wretched state, stripped of every trace of his former holiness and nobility.

"Cough... Damn it... you heretic..."

The silver-robed inquisitor glared fixedly at the witch in the distance.

Isolde looked at him, her voice cold and clear.

"Look. This isn't the darkness of the world. It's the end of hypocrites."

At that moment, the system displayed a notification:

[Target: Low-Rank Silver Robe · Noss]

[Remaining HP: 20%]

[Abnormal Status: Fear, Betrayal (weapon backlash), Contamination]

Isolde walked step by step to the immobile silver-robed inquisitor and looked down at him.

She raised a slender, pale finger and lightly tapped the air. Dark-red [Soul-Binding Thread] wound up from the ground and wrapped around the silver-robed inquisitor.

With multiple abnormal statuses stacked together, the binding check soared to the maximum limit of a full 3 seconds.

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