“...... Blasphemous blood, the ...... of redemption mocked"

In the silence of midnight, the cellars beneath Plantagenet Manor were crowded with people, men in black robes, holding torches in their hands, lined up in two rows, their faces unrecognizable by their broad hoods, and only the hoarse, neat singing echoed.

“...... If you promise, we will bow our knees to ......"

The cold and oppressive darkness, the shadows of the dancing firelight, the hoarse and low singing... Against the backdrop of the frenetic atmosphere, it looks extremely weird.

At the end of the crowd carrying torches was a figure also dressed in a hood and robe, hunched and trembling, hiding himself from head to toe;

At the end of the crowd was a square table covered in red satin, with a delicate sterling silver wine glass in the center, and next to it stood a man in a bright red cloak and hood, with a purple-shirted wooden cane.

Under the gaze of a pair of eyes shot from under the hood, the man hunched over and wearing a robe and hood walked tremblingly towards the square table step by step, and his steps were unhurried, as if every step was on a beating heart.

“...... Father, please guide us to awaken from this dark nightmare......"

The low and solemn singing continued, and the dancing firelight illuminated the faces under the hood, and the eyes were shivering with excitement, as if this group of people in robes and hoods could tear their clothes at any moment and turn into real beasts.

And the man in red is still waiting for "him".

“...... Embark on the path to freedom at your fingertips......"

The man in the robe and hood walked step by step to the square table, and the black hairs peeking out from the gaps in the hood were inconspicuous in the clothes and the dim light, and no one paid any special attention to them;

“...... Embark on the path of an audience to find your footsteps......"

The man in red walked to the square table, and the man in the robe and hood stopped in place, and at the signal of the man in red, he humbly opened his arms and knelt down in front of him.

The singing came to an abrupt end, and everyone in the cellar bowed slightly, holding torches high behind the square table, and under the hoods were solemn and fanatical faces.

The man in red raised the purple-shirted wooden cane in his hand, and in a low and quiet atmosphere, he slowly spoke:

"My devout brothers and sisters, it has been a long time since the last assembly... The Church of the Holy Cross in the Red Blood Fortress has been oppressing us, hunting down our companions everywhere, forcing us to flee in disarray, and survive in the shadows;

It was a sad time, and the evil devil took possession of the hearts of all people, who foolishly believed in the evil god called the Holy Cross, and feared the fire-breathing dragon... pawns of evil gods, but the true Father and Savior are obscure;

They claim to be halal, but they enjoy luxuries unimaginable to the common people, they claim to be noble, but they degenerate into the struggle for worldly power;

A group of hypocritical and cunning wicked, who do not believe in the idol of the Holy Cross hanging on the top of the church, but in their hearts with evil thoughts, greed and carnal desires, and the hearts and minds of all life in the world are controlled by such a group of lowly reptiles!

They are full of lies, full of evil, greedy and full of evil thoughts... Twelve generations of Byrnees have been subservient to the feet of such a people;

But it doesn't matter, because no matter how rampant the power of the evil gods is, and how they stir up waves to hunt down the righteous, the voice of the Savior will never be extinguished!

They rebuked the arrogance of the Byrnes, but they did not understand that it was pride and pride that made Byrne prosperous and strong;

They regard drinking as the root of the depravity of the Byrnes, but they do not know that for the Byrnes, good wine is blood!"

Feverish cheers echoed through the cellar, and the light of the fire flickered in the shadows.

And today, another person will join us as a Lamb blessed by the true Father and Savior to drink wine with us!

Frey Pasteur, a loyal servant of the House of Turin, who had been steward and winemaker of the Plantagenet for generations;

But He is also a true believer—and it is because of His generosity and kindness that we can gather here to share the wine that the Savior has given us.

He was loyal to the House of Turin, but equally true to his faith;

In him, I saw the unprecedented sincerity, the sacrificial spirit of a true believer, and when I saw him, I saw hope.

We live in a time of sorrow, a world shrouded in evil spirits that does not see the light of day, but the more this is the case, the more it is not the time to test the firmness of our faith?!

That's why we're holding a rally at this time of tension to welcome our loyal companion, Mr. Frey Pasteur, to join us as one of us, and cheer him on!"

"Wine is like blood——! wine is like blood——! wine is like blood——! wine is like blood——!

The frenzy echoed endlessly, and the man in red turned around, and respectfully cut his arm, dripping blood into the cup;

The sterling silver wine glass was passed through the crowd, and each believer dripped his own blood into the cup, and then handed the wine glass to the next believer with great solemnity;

Holding the blood-soaked wine glass in both hands, the deep voice of the man in red echoed in the wine cellar:

"Rise, Frey Pasteur, drink from this cup and be our partner in the gospel of Heavenly Father and Savior!"

The man in the hood of the robe slowly stood up, blocked the figure of the man in red in front of him, and respectfully took the wine glass from his hand.

"Come, drink it, and when you drink it, you will understand how ...... our Heavenly Father and Savior are."

Just as he was still talking, the voice of the man in red stopped abruptly.

"Uh... Belch... Yes... You, you ......"

Looking at the sharp blade that stretched out from under the other's wrist and pierced his neck, the man in red spat blood from his mouth and looked up at the person in front of him.

Black hair, black eyes.

"How, how are you... Frey Pasteur he ......"

"He's been put in a dungeon by Charles... Thanks to this fool, Charles noticed that there was something wrong with the wine in stock, and of course, he thought he was just a wine thief and didn't need to report it to Charlotte......"

Loren, who lowered his voice, hooked the corners of his mouth... Because of their location and distance, the "heretics" behind them did not notice their abnormality for the time being.

"Don't show such a surprised expression, okay, I should be the one who should be surprised. The black-haired wizard said briskly, his eyes looking at the familiar face of the other party, as well as the familiar logo on the glove on his left hand:

"Old Mr. John of the Tavern, or... Lord Byrne's Night Watch?"

The world in front of him gradually became blurred, the throat pierced by the Hidden Blade blocked the gushing blood plasma, and the corners of the mouth of "Old John" with blood foam trembled, desperately trying to lift his arm but not the slightest strength.

"Mutant monsters are wreaking havoc in the Crimson Blood Castle, and there's even a cult of evil gods suspected of being heretical... In such a serious situation, the headquarters of the night watch in the imperial capital actually knows nothing, and there is not even the slightest news, so there can only be two explanations, right?"

"Either the adversary is so ferocious that the Night's Watch is exposed and destroyed, or... It's that Byrne's Night's Watch has mutinied en masse, becoming lackeys of the Heresy and even... Core members. ”

The black-haired wizard who was talking to himself gradually had a hint of understanding in his eyes.

The Hidden Blade was drawn from his neck, splatters of blood leaving a dark red on Loren's robes.

Old John, who had lost his strength, shook his body and fell to his knees, his whole body collapsed to the ground, and the moment his head touched the ground, he saw the silver cup that slipped from the black-haired wizard's hand, and the blood pouring from the cup stained his vision.

At the moment of eternal darkness, he struggled to keep his eyes open as he saw a petite figure rushing out of the crowd, taking off his hood and lunging towards the black-haired wizard.

No... No... Come on... He... This person is not something you can beat......

"Father's ——!!!!"

Grief-stricken little Vivien, along with the sharp blade in her hand, shattered the dead silence!