Over the past few months, Jonah had been knocked out so many times that the darkness he woke up to now seemed like an old friend whose greeting he did not begrudge.
Most of the time, though, he knew the reason behind him losing consciousness, but this time, he had no idea what had led to him and everyone else in the room falling one by one, as if to signify the downfall of one of the major plans of the Bishop. He had known, right away, that his disciple must definitely have planned it so that his excursion would result in the nullification of the possibility of the Saint stepping in, and he had even passed into the embrace of unconsciousness with the happy thought that she would definitely not be having her way. This was also the first thing he remembered before he opened his eyes, but as soon as he got up and looked around at the chamber, he realized that something was wrong.
All of the commanders were still unconscious.
What the…
His thoughts were interrupted when his eyes immediately darted to the middle of the room, where a throne had appeared out of nowhere. With a start, he realized that it was the same throne at the center of Angaria that they had seen in the images sent by the Eye before it had been destroyed, and on it, the Bishop was seated with an expression he could not see.
Her lower body was visible, but from above her waist, she was completely blocked by the projection that had been used so far to let them keep track of the war. At present, it showed his homeland in all its glory, but just a second later, the Bishop's face emerged from inside it like a primeval monster that had eaten through the core of Angaria in one, single bite.
The image lingered in Jonah's eyes, even though he knew that it was only an illusion caused by the woman activating the projection even though she was sitting right in the middle of it. It was replaced a couple of seconds later when he noticed that her eyes were puffy and her face seemed swollen.
Has she been crying?
He wondered whether this was another moment like the one he had intruded on back in the headquarters, but as she opened her mouth, he realized that he couldn't be more wrong.
"Welcome back. Fighting without using any of my power was something that I always loved… so I engaged in a little stress-busting while everyone was sleeping. Don't you think they look pretty?"
He followed her gaze to the ceiling, and that was when he realized that he had missed one very prominent detail when he scanned his surroundings.
Three analysts had been nailed to the wall by their limbs. They were so battered and bloody that their faces were almost unrecognizable, but their robes were enough to let him identify them. In the middle was the analyst who had spoken before, and her face was still twisted in extreme agony, as she seemed to have borne the majority of the Bishop's wrath.
As he heard a low chuckle escaped the Bishop's lips, he turned back to her to see that a small smile had come on the corner of her lips while her eyes remained firmly fixed on her victims.
"Can you believe it? These three had the audacity to threaten me…me! Did they think that losing would make me any weaker? It's possible, but I was enjoying myself too much to hear any of their screams. It was when they fought back that I had the most fun…but now, it's time to get back to business."
Indeed… what he had seen were bruises, not the signs of her breaking down once again.
With a snap of her fingers, she made three more analysts appeared in the room. They were shivering uncontrollably with what was unmistakably terror, and as a drop of blood fell on them from above, they all looked up instinctively and immediately shrieked with fear before averting their gaze. The Bishop almost looked like she was drinking in their fright as if it was an elixir that gave her strength, and seeing this, Jonah realized that she… had finally snapped.
During the initial days of his training, he had been in charge of torture. That was when he had found out that each and every person had a breaking point, and when it was reached, different people acted in different ways.
Some gave in and went mad, while others were too weak to even hold their consciousness together. It was only the strongest who doubled down on the determination to get out of the rut they were in, and obviously, the Bishop was of this sort.
With another flick of her fingers, she made the three bodies fall on the analysts with a sickening sound.
"If you do not want to share their fate, follow my commands without any questions. Give me the updates, and you can get back to writing those letters of complaint."
For a moment, it seemed as if the fact that their treachery had been revealed would give them a heart attack, but then, as if finding solace due to the promise that they would be allowed to leave, one of them spoke up.
"A little more than half of the third wave had been absorbed by the Saint to power his attack. Apart from that… the cries of the Basilisk had a certain property that corrupted the control structures of a few of the weapons that were supposed to be deployed. Energy reserves have almost been used up. There are enough of them to power our defenses for three more days. That…that's it."
"No… you're forgetting something. Either remember what it was, or join your comrades."
As her words washed over him, the analyst who had put up a brave front until now squeaked like a mouse before looking at his companions for comfort. He found none of that, though, as their eyes were still fixed on the body parts of their three companions which were so mutilated that they were mostly just lumps of flesh.
A 'humph' from the Bishop made him snap his head back in her direction, and after a moment, he built up the courage and gave the answer himself.
"The rest of the third wave are planning to-to… follow the path of insubordination. They intend to place their demand in front of you…in-in an hour."
A glimmer of happiness appeared in Jonah's mind as he heard this, but it was immediately wiped away when he saw the Bishop's smile broaden instead of leaving her face.
"Good. You made the right decision to deny them when they approached you… but you also gave in to their threats. You agreed not to let me know about it, so as punishment…"
The sound of something sharp cutting through flesh echoed in the room, before it became filled with screams of pain.
With horror, Jonah saw that all three analysts had had their heads separated from their bodies. A spell was also cast to let them survive in that state… but nothing was done to prevent the psychological and physical trauma that accompanied a beheading.
The Bishop seemed to have well and truly embraced the path of evil as she enjoyed the screams for a few seconds before dismissing the three heads and letting their bodies remain. There were still twitching, so when she spoke, Jonah needed a few seconds to drag his eyes away from them.
"In this condition, the damn Saint expects me to win… he was always the upstart of the three. I had a bad feeling when I found out that he had been assigned to the mission, but how could I have known that this was how everything would turn out? Well… your disciple leaves me no choice. Until now, I was acting while keeping in mind the life that I have to return to after this war is done, but the Saint has made it clear that it is something that I no longer need to worry about. Nothing matters except winning, anymore… so I am free. When your disciple was still slurping at his mother's teat, I had already begun scheming my rise. It's time to show him what I'm capable of. Oh… this will be fun, but I want it to be a surprise. So…"
At the beginning of her speech, Jonah had been thinking that this was just more of the empty bluster that had turned out to be just a useless waste of time until now. Yet...towards the end, his instincts had told him that he might be wrong, but as soon as she finished speaking, she raised her finger in his direction and cast a spell that he was all-too-familiar with.
As darkness took him once more for what felt like the umpteenth time in the last few days, a single thought dominated his mind.
My dear disciple, I hope all these years were not spent in vain…good or bad, I've given you all of my memories, and I hope you use them well. That is all your master can do for you. Even though I hope you do not need it...good luck.
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