Caron was like a fish in water—utterly in his element. "Warrior, please, forgive my sins!" one soldier cried, falling to his knees. "Of course," Caron said warmly. "The Light still loves you." "Ahh, glory to the Light! Warrior! I will gladly take up arms for the Light!" the soldier cried. "A noble resolve," Caron said, nodding with approval. He moved quickly, spreading his influence through the ranks like wildfire. Meanwhile, the commanders hadn't even realized that Caron had already infiltrated the fortress. By now, Caron's experience in rebellion had reached a level far beyond what the clergy of the Holy Kingdom could have imagined. The soldiers, already agitated and emotionally primed, fell easily to Caron's charisma and rhetoric. Standing before the growing crowd, Caron raised both arms and called out, "Come, let us liberate this fortress together! Let's start by tearing down that vile pyre!" A roar erupted. "Yeeeaaahhh!" The title of Warrior was more than enough to stir the soldiers. The image of Caron—the immortal warrior chosen by the Light—had already been seared deep into their minds over the past week. The Warrior had returned from death again and again. The one chosen by the Light was offering them pardon. To soldiers drowning in guilt over standing by as their comrades were burned alive, the Warrior's absolution was irresistible. The true rebellion had begun. Caron's voice rang out across the fortress, "I am Caron Leston, the Warrior! Brothers and sisters—stand with me, and let us judge the heretics!" At his cry, several soldiers drew their weapons and charged toward the pyres. It only took a few brave steps to start a revolution. Once the front was broken, the rest followed like a flood. What had started with just a handful quickly consumed nearly every soldier in the vicinity, swelling like a tidal wave. "Stop this at once! Do you all want to be burned at the stake—?!" a commander began, but was cut off. "You get burned, you heretic bastard! The Warrior has forgiven us!" another soldier interrupted. Those stationed near the pyres were swept away by the madness Caron had ignited. And quietly, Caron let the power sleeping within Guillotine seep out. He released a weakened version of Rabies—a power that excelled in chaotic, high-emotion environments . The soldiers' fear was burned away, replaced with righteous fury. One by one, they took up arms. There was utter chaos. The commanders couldn't react fast enough to the sudden uprising. The furious soldiers grabbed the ones who had been carrying out the executions and threw them into the flames, then cut down the ropes binding their comrades who had been waiting for their turn to burn. They had tried to kill soldiers with fire. To Caron, there could be no more fitting end for them than that same flame. "...Faith really is a terrifying thing," Caron muttered, stepping back just slightly to observe the soldiers' rampage. He had merely invoked the name of a god—and just like that, they had ignited beyond control. This was why morale mattered so much. If a military force lacked someone to manage its morale and provide motivation, it could never operate effectively. This army had long forgotten that fundamental principle. "Owner," Guillotine said telepathically, "I'm telling you, you shouldn't be a Warrior. You're born to be a Demon King. This rebellion stuff is turning into an art form." The sword's praise was sincere, but Caron lightly smacked its hilt with his fist. "It's only just begun," he said sharply. "Stay focused. This isn't the time to joke around." If one fire wasn't enough, then you had to light many. Caron summoned doppelgangers—copies of himself—to spread the flames farther. He said to them, "Let's end this in one swift stroke." Widespread incitement would follow through the clones. Now that the rebellion had begun here, other sectors were likely just as ripe. All he had to do was give them a slight push, and they too would gladly take up arms. "If this successfully ends, you'll go down in history as the Warrior who single-handedly seized a fortress. These fanatics have always been good at glorifying things. Who knows? They might actually record you as the Warrior chosen by the Light. You might even end up added to their holy scriptures! That'd be hilarious," Guillotine said. Caron wondered if there would be "The Book of Caron." Thinking of it, he smirked. That did sound entertaining. But this was no time to get lost in daydreams. He had to focus. With his clones summoned, Caron began to move swiftly. The flames of rebellion spread quickly through the entire fortress. The rebellion led by Caron proved to be far more effective than anyone had anticipated. "Let us repent, even now, and follow the Warrior!" "Drive out those who betrayed His Holiness the Pope and sought to sell this nation to demons!" The moment the rumor spread that the Warrior had entered the fortress, long-suppressed rage erupted like a dam bursting. The executions at Ragheim Fortress became the final spark that set everything ablaze. A rebellion had broken out within the fortress—but the real problem was that it wasn't just the soldiers who joined the uprising. "We must repent while we still can," a priest cried. "We... We've been walking a path of corruption. We must atone sincerely, and live out our lives in repentance!" another priest cried out. Even some priests and paladins from the Order of Truth joined the revolt, fueled by rumors that Elijah had approved Ragnarok, a catastrophic plan that would doom the Holy Kingdom itself. Skirmishes erupted throughout the fortress, and at the very front stood—of course—Caron himself. "It's not too late!" Caron cried. "My beloved brothers and sisters! Repent! Stand proud before the Light! You still have a chance!" Caron's doppelgangers spread across the fortress, tirelessly rousing the soldiers into action. Thanks to them, he was able to amass a considerable rebel force in an astonishing time. Ragheim Fortress had originally been considered nearly impenetrable, as long as the gates were held. But the very first objective of Caron's sudden rebellion was to capture those very gates. "Stand with the Light!" The uprisings occurred simultaneously across multiple points, shattering the chain of command in an instant. No matter how sturdy the walls were, an explosion from within would tear everything apart. Worse yet, the commanders of the Holy Kingdom had never received any training for situations . Their entire military force had been bound together by faith alone. They had never even considered the possibility that their own soldiers could turn against them. There were two main gates to Ragheim Fortress, the East Gate and the West Gate. Both of the massive, heavily fortified doors swung open at the same time. "Those who stand with the Light, remove your helmets immediately! We are here to help you!" "Brothers and sisters! His Holiness still awaits your return!" The Pope's forces and the empire's troops surged into the fortress together. Rebellion from within. Invasion from without. The fortress, once considered impenetrable, descended into chaos in a matter of moments. The fanatics of the Order of Truth fought back viciously, but the tide had already turned. Amidst this whirlwind of confusion, Caron allowed himself to be dragged off in chains, playing the part of a prisoner, even as screams and battle cries echoed through the fortress. "What was your name again, Commander?" Caron asked. "...My name is Bantus," the man replied, shackled and feigning defeat. "Excellent, Commander Bantus. I, as the official Warrior of the Papacy, hereby grant you absolution for your sins. You may trust this pardon," Caron said. Victory was already secured. Their forces had taken the fortress without shedding a single drop of blood, while the enemy had splintered from within. There were no chances left for the enemy to turn the tide. And yet, Caron willingly walked in chains—for there was still one last objective to achieve. "Are you sure that Elijah hasn't evacuated yet?" Caron asked. "I confirmed he was still at the top of the spire just thirty minutes ago," Bantus answered. "What about the escape route?" Caron asked. "There's a teleportation magic circle installed beneath the spire," Bantus replied. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn NoveI~Fire.net "We can't let that bastard escape again," Caron said. This had to be the real Elijah. From his perspective, nowhere was safer than this fortress. "Let's move," Caron said coldly. He intended to mock Elijah right up to his last breath. There were only two proper ways to end a long and bitter rivalry: Either die mocked, or kill while mocking. For Caron, it was the latter. "We must capture Elijah alive," he said. There was far too much Caron needed to hear from Elijah. He had to figure out where the latter had acquired demonic technology, and with whom he had conspired. There had to be a mastermind behind this. Only by exposing and cutting out that root could the Holy Kingdom's purification be complete. Caron urged Bantus along as he ascended the spiral staircase of the spire with swift, purposeful steps. At the very top of the towering structure was a chamber adorned with ornate statues—grand and holy, as if fit for a saint. In the center of that lavish room sat a man with a familiar face. He watched them without expression, seated like a judge awaiting the accused. Bantus offered a salute, then spoke in a low voice. "Saint Elijah. I have brought you the leader of the rebels." Elijah narrowed his eyes at Caron and said coldly, "You fool. Obviously, this is a doppelganger. Can't you see you've been deceived by a demon's trickery?" The manacles binding Caron shattered effortlessly. He casually dusted off his hands and said, "You really think I'd come all this way just to send a copy? I'm not a coward like you." Caron unsheathed Guillotine. "So? Did you enjoy the show I prepared for you? I put a lot of thought into it. Rebellions ought to be done properly, don't you think? I'd love to hear your review," he asked with a bold and mocking smirk. Elijah slowly rose from his seat, a thick holy scripture clutched in his right hand. He said, "It seems the Holy Kingdom is far weaker than I believed. I must have forgotten that." "That's a pretty boring review," Caron said flatly. "I only speak the truth," Elijah replied. "Our citizens should have been fortified with stronger faith. They never should've been swayed by your silver tongue." "Still blaming everyone else to the end, huh? How fitting," Caron said. A tremendous energy began to surge from Elijah's body. There was no mistaking it; this was the real Elijah. The presence he now exuded was vastly greater than the doppelganger Caron had faced back at the Vatican. In knightly terms, he was a full 8-Star knight. Elijah had once been praised as potentially the greatest saint in the history of the Holy Kingdom. He was no weakling; just a deluded idealist, but not someone to be underestimated. "You may have twisted our plans this time," Elijah said, "but that's fine. We will simply begin again." "Now you're trying to sound like a wise man?" Caron remarked, snorting. He now realized it clearly—this spire would be the stage for the final act of the rebellion. If he brought down Elijah here, the insurrection would end. Without a leader, the rebels would scatter. The few who still clung to fanaticism would be hunted down. The Holy Kingdom would be united once more. Caron gripped Guillotine lightly, a cruel smile on his face as he said, "I've got a long list of debts to settle with you." Their feud was old—bitter and stubborn. It had begun back in the Southern Great Forest. Though their confrontation only came later, the resentment had only deepened over time. And then there was Beatrice—the one Elijah's faction had tried to brainwash using the Shackles of Immortality. That alone was more than enough reason for Elijah to die. A vast surge of corrupted mana burst from Elijah's body. His form began to twist and contort grotesquely. Just like the inquisitors from the Third Diocese, Elijah transformed into a monster. He became a hulking, humanoid beast, its body packed with muscle as hard as iron. With every breath, Perverse Mana seeped from him. Elijah no longer resembled a man. He had twisted features and a monstrous grin. "To defeat evil, I am prepared to become anything," Elijah growled. "Even a wretched demon. But tell me—what are you prepared to become?" "Have you ever even been in a real fight before?" Caron asked. "Petty tricks are useless before overwhelming power. Accept despair. You'll regret coming here for the rest of your short, miserable life," Elijah replied. His transformation was complete. He had become a full-blown abomination. But he didn't realize one crucial thing. Caron had waited for this transformation. He had allowed it to happen. As Elijah's form grew grotesque, Caron studied his mutated body with a gleam in his eyes and smiled viciously. "Bigger toys are always more fun, don't you think?" Caron remarked. He had no intention of giving Elijah a clean or merciful death. "This is the hour of your slaughter, Saint. Let's see whose side your god really takes." This time, the Warrior chose to become the Butcher.