Heretic Knight Chapter 23: Fragments of the Past

Chapter Twenty-Three: Fragments of the Past
The underground space, which had resembled a fortress just moments before, was now filled with rubble and debris,
the remains of steel killing weapons scattered everywhere, like ruins after a hurricane.
The young priest stood atop the ruins, the air thick with the lingering smell of gunpowder, yet he was still
breathing heavily. Sweat streamed down his body as if he had just been drenched in water, and
saliva even trickled from his open mouth due to exhaustion. If it weren't for the grueling training he had undergone,
the priest, trembling all over, would have collapsed onto the rubble at his feet long ago.
"Huff...huff...this guy..." he groaned, panting. His physical
exhaustion wasn't solely due to the continuous battle; the greater reason lay in
the Sacred Armor he wielded. While powerful enough, this weapon, modeled after the power of an ancient sea monster, placed
a heavy burden on his body. It was manageable against ordinary enemies, but in a prolonged battle,
it became unbearable.
The enemy the priest faced this time—
the woman standing atop the ruins, yet showing no signs of fatigue—was no ordinary foe. As a sorcerer, her power was likely
comparable to that of a high-ranking demon. Compared to her, the demon followers the young priest had previously vanquished
were as insignificant as insects.
"The next time you activate the Holy Weapon, your heart will stop beating," the woman
said with an air of nonchalance. Compared to the priest, who was struggling to breathe, not a drop of sweat
appeared on her face. Her neat uniform remained as it had been at the start of the battle, without a single extra wrinkle, and
her exceptionally tidy black short hair was perfectly combed, with only a few specks of dust on her military boots
.
The priest couldn't refute the woman's words; every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire.
If he were to activate the Holy Weapon again under these circumstances, as the woman said, he would die.
But for the priest, he had a reason to fight, and the faith that had sustained him until now. It was because
of this reason that he hadn't fallen.
Behind the woman stood four metal coffins. Although the buildings that had once stood there had been reduced to rubble by the priest's attack
, the four black metal coffins remained
intact. This wasn't because the woman was deliberately protecting the boxes, but because the boxes themselves were forged
with an outer shell capable of withstanding such an attack—a shell even the armor of a war chariot couldn't match.
The things cultivated within the boxes could significantly impact the existence of the Inquisition, potentially causing
unbearable destruction to the entire world. Therefore, after inadvertently obtaining information about the four boxes,
the young priest, without even reporting to his superiors, immediately threw himself into the destruction of them
.
The magical fortresses built to protect the boxes, and the combat troops stationed within,
were all annihilated by the young priest's holy weapons. Before facing this woman, he even thought he
had succeeded. But it was this woman who stopped the young priest's destruction. She was not an
opponent he could defeat alone.
Even facing such a powerful adversary, the priest did not retreat, fighting tenaciously
until his body was almost completely broken. His muscles ached to the point of numbness, breathing became extremely difficult, and even his vision
was frequently plunged into complete darkness. The young priest was fighting solely on the back of his faith.
So even knowing that activating the Holy Weapon again would mean death, the priest's fingers still slowly and resolutely closed
.
"As expected, it makes the body unable to bear the power. After that, it abandons its complete structure."
Seeing that the priest's fighting spirit had not wavered, the woman's lips curled up in a mocking smile. "Even if your faith
is unwavering, you cannot break through this pointless limitation."
The ruins trembled. The priest's Holy Weapon? The steel beast's tentacles emitted a low rumble once more.
But this time, the rumble was not enough to pose a real threat, because just gripping the Holy Weapon again
caused bright red blood to gush from the priest's body. This was not from stigmata or blood and sweat, but from
the wounds caused by the tearing of his muscles and skin. And not only his body, but even the priest's eyes, ears, nostrils, and
mouth were gushing with viscous blood.
"To be challenged by you with this level of power is simply an insult."
The woman looked away from the priest, who was practically covered in blood, and raised her arm with a contemptuous smile. "How about
I remove all your restrictions?"
The low hum of the holy weapon abruptly stopped—no, it should be said that it suddenly became muffled and then disappeared.
It was like sound disappearing when it enters a vacuum.
"Human Standard Physical Forced Repair Program, First Forced Repair Program, Cobra Finale Zero One, Activate."
With the woman's calm voice, the air was swallowed by an unusual sensation. Then,
abnormal changes occurred on the priest's body, which was already gushing blood. His skin began to writhe, and the blood vessels beneath it throbbed violently
.
Along with this abnormal bodily activity, life force seemed to surge into the priest's body, because his
eyes, previously blurred by tears of blood, gradually regained their light—but not a clear gaze,
but rather the completely unrestrained expression that appeared after the loss of some emotion.
"Sacred Weapon Self-Sealing Forced Release Program, Saintess's Hymn, Activate."
As the woman uttered these words, the priest suddenly roared, a
cry like that of a wild beast. It wasn't a sound of pain, but rather a cry of extreme ecstasy, as if he had reached heaven. The young
priest felt power surging into his body from the sacred weapon he gripped tightly in his hands,
and a clear holy light appeared in his previously blood-blurred vision. He seemed to hear echoes in his ears...
The beautiful melody of the hymn filled the air. The thought that no one could defeat oneself unexpectedly crossed the priest's
mind. The surge of hormones brought on a feverish excitement akin to a maniacal frenzy. "How do you feel?" the woman 　　asked in a cheerful tone
, seeing the young priest's naturally rapturous expression . 　　 "Feeling wonderful," the priest replied with a smile. "Although I don't know 　　what you did to me, I feel different now than before." 　　 "Indeed, you are different. If it were a complete Holy Armor weapon, it would be worthy of being my opponent." 　　 "Do you truly harbor hostility towards me, towards the Inquisition?" The priest sensed the woman's relaxed tone 　　. She had indeed held back in the battle and deliberately allowed her body to recover, coupled with 　　her current relaxed state. Although he often fought demon cultists, 　　compared to those simply loyal to their desires, this woman, a sorcerer, was far more difficult to understand. 　　 The young priest sensed that although the woman was fighting him, her reason for fighting wasn't ordinary 　　hostility, nor was it simply about protecting the four boxes behind her. There seemed to be 　　something unsettling about her, but his body and mind, pushed to their limits, were 　　boiling with excitement—even if there were some deeper scheme involved, he didn't want to consider it. 　　 "Now let me test whether the original spell form is still preserved." At that moment, 　　the woman suddenly curled her lips into a smile and uttered a sentence completely devoid of magic, "Come on, 　　I confess, I am a witch, I am the enemy of the God you believe in!" 　　 The priest's body moved the instant she spoke. Before his consciousness commanded his body to move 　　, it had already moved; for a brief moment, his mind went completely blank. By 　　the time he realized it, he was already charging towards the woman, wielding his holy weapon. 　　 He was going to kill this son of a bitch! 　　 A powerful killing intent immediately seized his mind. As if her reason had snapped, her body was completely 　　dominated by instinct and murderous intent. 　　 "Human body as a baseline..." As if anticipating the priest's reaction, the woman immediately uttered 　　a phrase imbued with special meaning. In the previous battle, she had relied on language—faster than her actions—to construct 　　a defensive and offensive defense for her spell, allowing her to easily bring the priest to the brink of death. But this time, 　　before she could finish her sentence, the priest had already vanished from her sight. 　　 Beyond the limits of human vision, it wasn't just agility, but also a deft insertion into blind 　　spots. The instant the woman turned her head, the priest swung his whip-like holy weapon at her face 　　. The fierce attack silenced the words used to unleash the spell, turning them into a muffled groan 　　. 　　 She managed to raise her arm in time to block, but the impact still made her gasp for breath. 　　 "Ugh, as expected... even I have to be prepared to be killed once or twice by a fully-equipped Holy Armor weapon 　　." As she spoke, the woman's arm twisted unmistakably in 　　another direction from the point where it wouldn't have jointed. The previous attack had severed her arm, but if she hadn't used it to block 　　, it wouldn't have been her arm that was broken, but her skull. 　　 The priest remained silent, his mind still consumed by murderous intent. 　　 He wanted to tear this bitch to pieces. 　　 However, this woman was no ordinary person. Although one of her arms was severed, she seemed 　　completely oblivious to pain, nimbly retreating to avoid the priest's second follow-up attack. Then, she quickly 　　chanted the incantation. In an instant, several vines burst forth from the rubble beneath the woman and priest's feet, 　　like whips wielded by the priest, green weapons crisscrossing as they attacked the young clergyman. 　　 But the green whip was no match for the steel whip. The priest swept 　　away the obstacle with a mere wave of his hand, showing no sign of the struggle he had just endured. The instant he broke through the barrier, 　　the priest was already beside the woman. A saintly smile— 　　a smile that was no longer human—adorned his holy weapon, which coiled around the woman's neck. More accurately, 　　the whip-like weapon, like a living snake, constricted her slender neck, 　　digging deep into her soft skin. Such an attack was beyond the capabilities of the human body 　　. While the brain could conceive of such a rapid attack, the body could not keep up. 　　Forcing oneself to do so could even lead to muscle tears and nerve damage 　　. But the priest, as if strolling in a garden, easily surpassed 　　the boundary known as "human limits. " 　　 Language is a prerequisite for a woman to cast spells, although she also possesses spells that don't require language, but 　　those spells are unsuitable for this situation. When choked, a human suffocates, 　　eventually turning bluish-purple, their eyes bulging as if about to pop out of their sockets, their tongue lolling out, foaming at the mouth, 　　losing consciousness until death—but this time, the woman didn't suffer such a terrible fate, because she suffocated 　　for less than a second before the priest's holy weapon snapped her cervical vertebrae. Her 　　 bodily functions ceased immediately. 　　 Only when he clearly felt that the woman's body was no different from a dead person did the priest's burning mind cool 　　down. 　　 Even though his consciousness had cooled, his body was still as hot as if burned by fire, but this heat wasn't 　　painful; it should be called pain, a pleasurable heat that made breathing much easier, a wonderful intoxication of blood, the 　　exhilarating feeling a warrior gains from the act of killing itself, like being intoxicated by fine wine. 　　 But the only thing feeling this pleasure now was the priest's body, his 　　body in an unusually good state. Conversely, his mind was gripped by a strange sense of disgust, as if he had swallowed worms whole.

Right before the priest's eyes, the woman, almost as powerful as a true demon, died.
Yet, the priest had absolutely no recollection of how she was killed. "
I am an enemy of the God you believe in."
After these words, consciousness ceased. When he regained consciousness, he only saw the woman
being strangled by the steel beast's fangs… no, there wasn't a complete blank in between; like a degraded
film reel, mottled and chaotic, colors blurred, images jumbled, but fragments could still be pieced together.
"What on earth did this guy do?" Unable to comprehend, although he had calmed down, the priest's agitated emotions
prevented him from carefully considering the complexities of the situation. He pursed his lips, deciding to temporarily set aside the matter;
after all, the woman was dead. His attention shifted to the four accessory boxes.
That was the priest's purpose in coming here.
Having already witnessed the sturdiness of the four metal crates in the previous battle, the young priest
gripped his holy weapon tightly. He was now confident he could completely destroy them, a confidence akin to having an angel standing beside him, 　　a protection akin to the might of
a thousand armies for a devout believer . 　　 Like the Leviathan's nickname, "The Entangling Serpent," the holy weapon—the power of the steel beast's tentacles—was precisely 　　refined in this. When the priest swung his holy weapon again, the cold whip instantly 　　coiled around the four coffin-like metal crates like a serpent hunting its prey. The whip's friction against the crates even sparked 　　blindingly. 　　 The metallic whirring, agonizing sound suddenly ceased, followed by a sharp crack as one of the metal crates 　　shattered like glass. 　　 With the coffin-like outer shell broken, the glass container itself was finally revealed. 　　 A crystal-clear glass container, so translucent it seemed it would shatter at the slightest touch, was filled with a shimmering, golden 　　liquid, like melted sunlight contained within. 　　 Alchemy potion. 　　 The term immediately came to mind. Also known as the "panacea" or 　　"golden elixir," it was a highly advanced creation in alchemy and elixirs, possessing the power to bring the dead back to life. 　　Even in the world of sorcerers, its value surpassed that of diamonds of equal weight. 　　 Seeing the incantation engraved on the glass container and the beautiful glow emanating from the liquid, 　　the priest was almost certain it was an expensive alchemy potion. The potion contained in this single container alone 　　could probably buy half the world. Three other similar containers, though undamaged, 　　suggested they also contained the same potion. 　　 And this expensive potion was being used merely as a culture medium. 　　 Because floating within the golden liquid was a naked body—that was the true 　　content of the container. It looked like a specimen frozen in amber, floating quietly in the center of the container. Its soft 　　, short hair spread out like dandelion seeds, like a sleeping angel, eyes closed, yet 　　a slight smile playing on its lips. 　　 Looking at this angel, the priest's face showed a momentary expression of devout rapture, as if 　　hypnotized, but he quickly shook his head to clear his mind. Although still 　　young, almost certainly a teenager, this priest was already a 　　full-fledged knight of the Roman Catholic Church's Inquisition. In this age of war, he had accumulated considerable experience, making him a 　　seasoned veteran despite his youth. 　　 He knew exactly what he had to do: 　　 destroy the four containers and utterly destroy what was inside. 　　 The priest clenched his fists, and the steel beast's tentacles, coiled like snakes around his arms, 　　began to writhe slowly, as if alive. The seemingly fragile glass container before him was likely protected by both physical 　　and magical defenses. However, considering his earlier success in destroying the metal box, the priest 　　judged that he could easily break it with a brute-force attack using his holy weapon. 　　 A mere swing of his arm would suffice; 　　the holy weapon, capable of easily turning armored vehicles into scrap metal and even shredding railway cannons, could 　　destroy the container along with the girl inside. The priest forcefully raised his hand, but just as he was about to strike, a sudden voice 　　came from behind him. 　　 "Is this really alright, Father?" someone said with an air of nonchalance. 　　 The priest whirled around. The woman he had supposedly killed was staring 　　at him with a profound smile. Due to her broken cervical spine, her head was tilted in an odd direction, and even her voice 　　sounded strange. But this woman, who should have been lying on the ground like an ordinary corpse, 　　was now unmistakably standing up. Without hesitation, the priest's holy weapon, originally intended for the glass container, 　　lashed out at the woman like lightning. But just as the whip-like weapon was about to touch her body 　　, the concrete floor beneath her feet shattered, and several vine-like plants sprang from the ground, 　　wrapping around the priest's steel beast tentacles. This time, the green whip stopped the metal whip; the tough 　　plant fibers forcefully pulled at the holy weapon, producing a strange sound, but preventing 　　the steel beast tentacles from striking the woman again. 　　 However, the priest wasn't relying on a single blow. The instant he swung the holy weapon, he himself 　　charged towards the woman, moving with the same speed as when he had subdued her earlier, almost exceeding the limits of his vision. 　　Even the vines created by magic couldn't match the speed of the priest's attack this time. As the woman's eyes rolled 　　, the priest was already beside her, his hand lightly raising a cold whip that 　　shot out like an arrow, accurately piercing the woman's forehead. 　　 "Ah, if it were an ordinary human, you would have killed them all!"

Her twisted cervical spine hadn't fully recovered, and another bloody hole gushed from her forehead, yet the woman
spoke with unwavering composure, even slightly loosening her garment as if joking,
"How about a heart puncture too? Like you would with a vampire."
Hearing this, the young priest hesitated.
Extensive combat experience didn't equate to extensive knowledge, and besides, the priest wasn't a sorcerer; his knowledge of incantations
was quite limited. At this moment, he was indeed guessing that the woman before him wasn't human, but a
vampire in human form—the so-called bloodsucker, those night-dwelling races with exceptionally tenacious vitality.
However, to survive even with a pierced forehead—this tenacity might surpass that of most vampires
!
Was this the effect of some kind of mystical ritual? The young priest lacked such knowledge, but he didn't
lose his momentum. Though he hesitated for a moment, that hesitation was immediately cast aside. His
burning body flared up again, but this time, the priest no longer relied on his physical fighting ability
; instead, he completely unleashed the power of the Holy Armor.
He had never done anything like this before.
He had never learned to do anything like this before.
But using the Holy Armor in this way seemed like instinct, naturally arising from his mind
.
"If I shred you to pieces, would you still be this relaxed?"
Not piercing his heart, the priest said, the steel beast's tentacles gripped in his hands already deeply embedded in the ground.
Then, with a roar like a wild beast's howl, countless metal whips—no, at this moment, they seemed like
the tentacles of some self-aware creature—emerged from the ground once more.
Wriggling, coiling, piercing, rubbing, tearing.
The legendary
Leviathan, a colossal sea monster said to attack ships on the high seas, also known as the "Entwined Serpent," is described in the Bible and Apocryphal texts. Perhaps this is how fear was instilled in
the superstitions of sailors? And this power is the essence of the Holy Armor Weapon? The Steel Beast's Tentacles.
The woman didn't flinch, for reasons unknown, but she didn't flinch.
Two metal tentacles pierced through her feet; her thick boots were no different from thin paper before this monstrous power
. The blood-stained metal tentacles immediately coiled around the woman's legs, then
her waist, then her arms, and finally gripped her throat.
Then the whip binding the woman began to move, like a chainsaw at full power, emitting a low,
grinding sound. In an instant, it tore apart the woman's uniform, then bit deep into her body. In a flash,
the mingled flesh and blood scattered in all directions as the holy weapon ravaged her. But moments later,
the sound of flesh and metal rubbing together became sharper, the sound of human bone being cut.
When the sharp sound ceased, the woman's hands and legs were completely reduced to dust. Only
her body, gushing blood from the wounds in her limbs, and her head, its neck blue from being strangled, remained
.
The woman's breathing and heartbeat had unmistakably stopped, yet a smile still lingered on her face, as if
she were content.
The priest didn't relax; he simply took a deep breath.
The air wasn't filled with the smell of blood, but rather a strange fragrance.
Was this the real smell? Or was it just an illusion caused by the intoxication of blood?
The priest had no time to judge such matters; he merely stared warily at the woman's mutilated corpse.
Her shapely, long legs were now a bloody pulp and bone fragments mixed with the flowing blood. Her short, black hair
, plastered with blood, hung low, obscuring most of her face. Her once strikingly beautiful features were now
blurred by the blood, though the faint smile at the corner of her mouth remained discernible. Her once neat and dignified
uniform hung like a worn-out rag, revealing her still-erect breasts through the tattered fabric. The bloodstains on them made her fair skin appear even more pitiful. 　　A ring of bluish bruises had appeared around her
slender waist, tightly bound by metal tentacles , and her neatly trimmed black pubic hair was now exposed. 　　 Beauty and ugliness seemed to be mingled together on the woman's body. 　　 An extremely passionate artist might have found considerable inspiration in this, but the priest lacked such 　　composure. A barely perceptible look of disgust flickered across his face. He merely 　　raised his arm slightly, and from directly beneath the woman's body, steel tentacles erupted like a fountain, 　　piercing her remaining flesh through her most vulnerable points—her vagina and anus. 　　 Then they exploded. 　　 Her abdomen, chest, breasts, throat, mouth, head, wounds. 　　 The metal tentacles that had pierced her body blossomed again from within, as if turning her 　　into a sea urchin, utterly and completely destroying her from the inside out. 　　 The splattered blood landed 　　 on the priest's face. The young priest raised his hand and made the sign of the cross. 　　 "Babylon is finished, it has fallen. Amen." Only then did the priest show a slight 　　hint of relief. "This time it should really be over, right?" As he said this, he 　　turned his gaze back to the glass container filled with alchemical potion, his eyes fixed on the 　　potion floating within it. 　　 With a slight tremor of his arm, the holy weapon nimbly launched its attack. 　　 A shattering sound rang out. 　　 But no shards of glass flew; the fragments of the container, along with the golden liquid, had boiled 　　, turning into dazzling steam that dissipated into the air, filling 　　the entire space with the aroma of fermenting alcohol. 　　 This sweet scent, mingled with the fragrance of blood, made the priest unconsciously take a deep breath, almost closing 　　his eyes in ecstasy. The golden steam shimmered like sunlight, and bathed in this light, the priest felt 　　his injuries from the battle gradually healing.

This was the power of alchemy.
Even without direct contact, it could heal the body, a secret crystallized incantation hailed as a panacea
.
However, the priest was no ordinary person ignorant of incantations and rituals. Though momentarily
lost in thought, he quickly regained his composure and remembered his purpose. He gently shook his head and
walked towards the broken glass container. The little angel, now unprotected by the container and the alchemy, lay quietly
within the remaining metal shell.
Golden light gently enveloped the sleeping angel.
Snake-like metal tentacles snaked around it, slowly approaching the adorable angel
's body.
With the slightest movement of his finger, the cold, holy weapon would shred the body to pieces,
just like the woman. Without the alchemy's protection, such a thing was incredibly easy
.
Yet, as he looked down at the little girl's body, the priest's gaze softened.
The sweetness of the alchemical potion mingled with the fragrance of blood, seeping into the priest's consciousness.
The golden light emanating from the potion not only illuminated the object but also enveloped the young priest, as if a holy
divine light had descended from heaven.
He could have ended it all with a mere flick of his finger. He
could have maintained his resolve just moments before.
But now, the murderous intent that had surged within the priest cooled, replaced by a
profound sense of pious ecstasy—a marvel of beauty, of power, of nature, of craftsmanship
, of the world—a sense of peaceful contentment that only the most devout believers could experience
.
This being, previously sealed within the alchemical potion, seemed to have become the most sacred being in the world.
For the young man, whose heart was firmly set on God, murderous intent could no longer arise
.
The priest could no longer kill this being; on the contrary, clear tears welled in his eyes.
"My Lord..." the priest murmured, his voice trembling. He shook his head, tears and snot streaming down
his face, making it impossible to discern whether the pain or the emotion was genuine.
He had never forgotten what he needed to do, what he should do—but a deeper voice within him told
him that what he needed to do was absolutely impossible, what he should do was absolutely forbidden.
It felt like his soul was being torn in two.
His body trembled violently, even more so than during the battle.
Yet, even with such intense trembling, the priest could not move a finger to perform his final
act.
He knelt before the broken vessel, and finally, his trembling legs gave way, and he knelt
before the sleeping figure.
"So beautiful, please... linger a moment."
A voice, almost pleading, escaped the priest's lips. His fingers loosened, and his holy weapon, the ferocious
steel beast's fangs, lost its grip, falling to the ground like an ordinary metal whip, no longer writhing and undulating menacingly
. The priest's arm, which had been wielding his weapon, reached towards the still-sleeping body.
Silver hair, reflecting a golden glow, gently brushed against the girl's cheek; her milk-like skin
shone like a jewel, so delicate it seemed almost translucent. The priest's fingers, almost touching her, couldn't go any further.
Her budding breasts were only slightly raised, two pink buds adorning her chest, making
her skin appear even whiter. Her soft limbs were naturally curved like a baby in the womb, not overtly seductive,
yet still making the priest's breath quicken. And the tender petals faintly visible between her crossed legs were even more alluring
.
Gazing at this beautiful little angel, the priest almost forgot to breathe.
"Didn't you want to destroy her?" A demonic murmur echoed in the priest's ears.
"To destroy…"
This girl's existence would shake the faith that supported the Church!
"But you're worshipping her."
The sweet whisper returned, its tone laced with blatant sarcasm.
"It's sacred… I can't… My Lord…"
The priest's mouth went dry, and he could only swallow repeatedly.
"Sacred? Sacred?" The whisper seemed to chuckle. "Then blaspheme as you please,
defile as you please, and then you can destroy her at will." With each whisper, the priest's heart felt as if
it were being gripped by invisible fingers, his breath catching in his throat.
"As if the defilement of Judas is the most devout faith."
"Here and now, do it, blaspheme as you please, defile as you please, destroy as you please!"
"Just reach out!"
Urged on by the whisper, the priest's fingers finally touched her skin, like warm jade
melting at his fingertips. Then, a certain taboo within him was finally shattered. Without further
hesitation, the priest, as if manipulated by someone else, pounced on the girl's body.
Kissing, caressing, teasing, stroking, licking.
It wasn't affection, not faith, but pure lust that dominated the priest's body. His member
had become incredibly hard. For this devout priest, who had grown up in the Vatican and had never even masturbated
, he was simply driven by instinct, relentlessly pouring his desire onto the girl's flesh.
On her soft breasts, the two small nipples, kneaded and played with by the priest's fingers, gradually hardened
. From the still-sleeping girl's small lips, came whispered moans, intermittently
tugging at the priest's heartstrings, making his breathing more intense.
"Desecrate, defile, destroy,"
the whispers continued.
Then the priest kissed the small lips that were making murmured sounds in their sleep; the soft touch felt like honey on their lips.
A trickle of saliva flowed from her lips. The taste of their first kiss was far too sweet, not a physical sensation but a psychological
one. For the young priest, who had grown up in a monastery receiving theological education and chivalrous training, this
electric current flowing through his body and converging between his legs was something he had never experienced before. The surge
of hormones in his brain was even stronger than when he first personally vanquished a demon's follower, so strong that his lips couldn't
stop kissing, pecking at the girl's small lips again and again, until his tongue pierced into her mouth
.
Soft, yet resilient, delicate and moist, her fragrant tongue was entwined with his.
Saliva mingled, lingering between their tongues.
"Desecrate, defile, destroy,"
whispered words.
The priest's fingers reached under her armpits, while his palm pressed firmly against the girl's still-tender breasts
, feeling the touch of her ribs. This innocent sensation was something the priest couldn't bear to part with. The young priest scooped
her up, pulling her into his arms, not just to kiss her, but more to possess her. He wanted
to completely possess this girl, to pluck a flower bud yet to bloom and claim it as his own.
This was not the feeling a clergyman should have.
But the priest could no longer distinguish between these feelings, for he was completely intoxicated
by a scent far more intense than the sweetness of alchemical potions or the fragrance of blood—the scent of her body in his arms. A pure,
hymn-like fragrance echoed in his mind, dispelling all other thoughts. "
Desecrate, defile, destroy,"
whispered a gentle murmur.
The priest had already removed his clothes, revealing a remarkably muscular body for his age
, and his long, never-before-seen erection was now ready to strike. Not particularly fierce,
but still excessively thick for such a delicate body.
The priest stroked the girl's thighs, her round, fragrant buttocks, his fingers tracing from her tight anus down to her delicate
petals. The pink petals, seemingly ready to burst with moisture at the slightest touch, remained quietly closed,
gently manipulated by the priest's fingers. Then, indeed, drops of nectar fell—though a small girl, her body
was remarkably sensitive. Of course, this was something the priest couldn't comprehend.
His mouth dry, the priest swallowed hard, his mind unable to think clearly. Only primal biological
urges remained; he pressed his penis against the center of her petals, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing until it felt as if a fire
was burning intensely between her legs. If he were to muster even a little courage and thrust this penis into her heart,
would this uncontrollable flame be extinguished?
Defile, defile, destroy as you please.
"Shut up."
Defile, defile, destroy as you please.
"Shut up!!!!!!!!!"
But just as the tip of the priest's spear had pried open the petals, the young knight stopped.
His body trembled as if resisting something, his muscles tensed to the limit, even revealing
clearly visible veins. Then he let out a deep roar, fiercely drowning out the whisper.
In that instant, the priest's body sprang off.
The holy weapon he had discarded was once again grasped by the priest. Without any purpose, simply as if to get rid of something,
the priest forcefully slammed the steel beast's tentacles down in front of him, creating a violent sound in the air—it was this
sound that finally brought the priest back to his senses from his complete lust.
A mutilated head floated behind the sleeping girl.
To say it floated was not accurate, because a network of blood spread from the head, tightly
connecting it to the ground and the three other metal boxes that still stood. As for the head, only half a face was still
discernible; it was the same woman who had been dismembered earlier, the smile on her face unchanged
.
However, for a woman with an entire eyeball and most of her brain exposed, even
the most beautiful smile seemed utterly eerie.
"The esoteric rituals I learned in India, the Trisina method... they still can't compare to my own art."
As the head spoke, more and more blood rushed to its base, gradually forming
the shape of a human body: full breasts, a flat stomach, and shapely legs. This wasn't the
scene the priest had just witnessed—the woman healing her head wound—but something even more unbelievable:
a human body formed directly from blood.
After speaking, the woman had fully recovered, standing naked before the priest with the same composure as before
. Unfortunately, the priest had no interest in appreciating her sensual beauty.
"You want to manipulate me..."
"If it weren't for the complete Holy Armor, you would have already done that kind of thing, wouldn't you?
The most pleasurable thing for humans, sexual intercourse existing to perpetuate the human race." The woman looked
down triumphantly at the sleeping figure at her feet, "Blasphemy, defilement, destruction."
"This woman!" The priest gritted his teeth. Although he hadn't gone all the way, he was already aware
that he had just committed a truly heinous act, a
sin that would require hundreds of days of repentance to atone for. And the one who had burdened him with this sin was none other than the woman before him.
Thinking this through, the priest's mind went blank again.
A powerful killing intent, just like when he heard the woman confess that she was an enemy of God, swept through the priest's mind like a violent tsunami
. His body moved involuntarily once more.
"Force, Psalm, Termination."
But this time, the priest's speed couldn't keep up with the three words uttered by the woman. When she uttered the last
syllable, the priest felt all the strength drain from his body, a
chilling emptiness even in his bones, and then he collapsed to the ground.
"Ugh..." He didn't even have the strength to speak; his body was only wracked with intense pain.
Everything before his eyes had turned red, his ears were ringing, making sounds muffled, and he
felt nauseous. But when the priest opened his mouth, he coughed up blood.
"I've collected all the information I needed. To be honest, continuing to let the complete Holy Armor Weapon remain is not a
good thing. This kind of power that humans cannot control is better left forgotten by humanity." The woman's voice
was indistinct, but still audible. "The aftereffects are quite severe. However, you inhaled the vapors of the alchemical potion,
so you should be able to survive."
But gradually, the already muffled voice seemed even harder to hear, and the priest's ears could only catch
fragments.
"...Project Son of Man...National Alchemy Agency...Failed Product...Sealed..."
What was she saying? What was it?
If he could survive, he had to pass on even a little bit of this information to the other knights of the Inquisition
! But why can't he hear? The sounds are so chaotic. He can't see, and he can't hear clearly either
. His body is so painful.
The priest, lying on the ground, tried several times to lift his head, but failed each time. He
had no strength left.
"...Reward...Forgetting..."
He couldn't understand the reward, but forgetting? What was forgetting? What was he supposed to forget? This important information?
No! Absolutely not! He had to fight on. He couldn't just forget like this!
The priest struggled to understand the fragmented words his brain was trying to comprehend. But for
someone who had no strength left, it was impossible. He had overused the Holy Armor, which was
why he had ended up like this. But that woman was an enemy that even with such excessive use of the Holy Armor, he couldn't
defeat!
To the Vatican, this woman might not be hostile. But she was an absolute mortal enemy that had to be eliminated!
"...Human Standards..."
Then, completely out of control of his consciousness, he felt a hand placed on his head.
"No..." With his last ounce of willpower, he couldn't even utter a complete sound; the priest's consciousness
vanished into complete darkness.
According to the records of the Inquisition, the young Father Nian,
a knight of the Eighth Inquisition of the Roman Catholic Church's Inquisition, who had single-handedly defeated the inhuman weapon manufacturing facility under the Third Reich, returned
safely to the city two days later from the dense forest of the hidden fortress
and reported on the battle.
Six months later, the capital of the Third Reich fell. A battle between unknown forces occurred near the capital, and an
entire train went missing. However, there were no records of the cargo transported on the missing train.
At this time, there were still fifty-three years before Father Nian renounced his faith
.

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/187076.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=187076&aspx=1

Previous Page : Heretic Knight Chapter 24: Subduing the Hidden Beast

Next Page : (Mom, I'm so happy to have you.)

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Heretic Knight Chapter 23: Fragments of the Past

comment Open a new window to view comments