When A Mage Revolts

"Mister Bishop, this is the report we composed after concluding the investigation. The village that was attacked really showed some abnormalities - the attitudes of the villagers were odd, they might have experienced temptations from the devil."

On a night about a month later, in the St. Peter’s Cathedral, a Holy Knight hurried into the hall, before getting down on one knee and saying to the bishop on the platform.

The bishop was reading a Bible on the stage, but upon hearing this, he raised his head casually.

"Send more people, strictly control the public conversations in the village and enforce the security in the other villages." He said softly, "Just a small issue, the influence won’t be significant as long as you snuff it out."

The Holy Knight nodded but hesitated for a while before asking nervously, "So... Regarding the mage, how can we just let him stir up trouble on the territory of God?"

"Don’t you worry, God has His plans."

"But..."

"Shh."

The Holy Knight seemed unsatisfied, but the bishop suddenly gestured for him to keep quiet and cut him off. The Holy Knight was stunned for a while and watched the bishop in silence. It felt like...the bishop was different from usual?

The bishop slowly walked down from the stage towards the door, he watched the corridors outside the hall intently, his eyeballs turning slowly in his deep-set eyes.

Outside the hall, there were no stars and moon in the pitch-black night sky, it was as quiet as a lake in mid-winter.

"Mister bishop, why..."

"Shh." The bishop cut him off again, his pupils that seemed gleam with emotion, "Don’t you think that the cathedral seems extra quiet tonight."

The Holy Knight felt even more confused.

Not knowing why, but the bishop before him seemed to be...kind of excited.

As he thought of this, the Holy Knight felt crazy. Excited? How could it be possible? The bishop would never have any emotional fluctuation towards anything. He was the spokesman sent by God, never having any subjective feelings of his own, and filled with nothing but divinity.

It was for this very reason that when the eyes of the bishop suddenly seemed to shine with emotions, that the Holy Knight had goosebumps.

What was wrong?

"Mister bishop..."

"There’s no business for you here anymore, you should go." A voice cut off the Holy Knight once again, but this time, it was not from the bishop who was standing at the hall entrance.

The Holy Knight turned around in shock.

"Gr, Sir Grant..."

The door of the confessional was pushed open, Grant walked out slowly wearing a pure white robe. He stopped in the middle of the red carpet in the hall, crossed his arms and looked at the knight calm. He showed signs of fatigue while remaining solemn.

At that moment, the Holy Knight promptly recalled some news that he heard recently, and his heart skipped a beat. Thus, he nodded hurriedly, turned around and quickly left the hall of the cathedral.

Now, the hall was completely empty except for the bishop and Grant.

"This robe seems very fitting." The bishop did not show any expression of shock. He turned around and nodded at Grant, his eyes reveling a sense of approval.

Grant looked at the bishop calmly.

"Things have already come to this stage, and yet, you’re still playing dumb."

"I’m not pretending at all, I have a heart of absolute sincerity. I merely teach you all the skills that I have learned, and do my best in delivering the orders that have been delivered to me by God."

"Really? Then you should understand what I’ve come for today. right?"

The bishop nodded and said, "This white robe, the first generation of His Highness the Pope has worn it before; it reminds me of my youth. Back then I had just become a priest. I served to protect it for a period of time, prayed every day as I looked at it, and thought about it even in my dreams, it really brings back memories."

Upon hearing this, Grant shook his head in disgust.

"If you’re trying to make up some sensible words to gain sympathy, you should at least move your face a little bit."

The bishop did not answer. The corners of his mouth curled upward, showing the faintest signs of a smile.

Grant, on the other hand, frowned in disapproval.

"What are you smiling at?"

"No, I’m just glad." The bishop showed a kind look and said slowly, "Although it hasn’t been long, you had grown faster than I had expected. God will be really glad too."

Grant clenched his fists tightly, "So... Did you expect my arrival today?"

"Yesterday, today, tomorrow, God has arranged everything." The bishop smiled again, "Grant, don’t you worry, destiny is like a play that is shown every day at the theatre, you just have to follow this path and continue walking forward."

After listening to this, Grant took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if he had finally snapped. Suddenly, his eyes flung open in a rage.

He walked towards the bishop and took out a dagger hidden inside sleeve cuff.

"My divine arts were all taught by you, so I will not use it to kill you." He leaned in towards the ear of the bishop and said in a low voice, "As for this dagger, I will worship it in your favorite confessional, without cleaning away the bloodstain on it."

The bishop nodded and looked straight ahead without turning to look at Grant.

"Very well, the mural in that confessional was painted two hundred years ago by a great master, I really like it."

Grant suddenly became angry, "That’s it? You don’t plan to resist? Beg? Burst into tears and resent yourself for the things that you’ve done? Tell me that you have no regrets at all? You... You really don’t plan on doing anything?"

"There’s no need for this, I’ve done everything that needs to be done."

"Alright... Then go to hell!"

Finally, Grant stabbed the dagger into the chest of the bishop.

At that moment, the body of the bishop convulsed and fell forward. Grant held him subconsciously, but soon saw that the bishop showed no signs pain on his face at all – in fact, he almost seemed... glad.

"You..."

Grant was speechless for a while.

The face of the bishop turned pale really quickly, but he had not lost his conscious yet and the edge of his mouth curved upward once again.

"God has already arranged our destiny..."

Grant instantly cut him off.

"All the priest think that you are unfaithful, fake, cunning and achieved your power by foul play. They think that you’re the murderer who killed the previous His Highness the Pope." He seemed to have suddenly recalled something and moved closer to whisper into it, "They all hate you."

The bishop did not show any change in his expression.

"Everything is the order of God."

Despite being unusually weak, it somehow still remained calm. At that moment, the joy on Grant’s face disappeared and was replaced by frustration.

He suddenly let go of the bishop and could not help but take a few steps back, letting the body fall to the ground. Followed by this, he watched the bishop intently until he stopped breathing and both his eyes were closed.

Grant grit his teeth out of pain and anger. He could not stop trembling due to the strong fluctuation of emotions.

"... You brought this upon yourself."

After staying silent for some time, Grant left the hall in a hurry.

Now all that was left in the room was the bishop.

Blood flowed out of his chest, running down his red robe and staining the red carpet with a darker shade of crimson.