Old Jim has lived in Van Rahil for almost sixty years, in that alley in the Craftsmen's Quarter that's always filled with the scent of paint and pine.
He was one of the most ordinary people in the holy city, making a living by restoring old murals in churches and gilding icons.
He was devout but also pragmatic; his days were like the hands of the clock in the Holy Light Square, proceeding steadily and peacefully.
But in the last few days, something else seems to have seeped into this peaceful place.
First, the fat owner of the tavern at the end of the alley insisted that several barrels of ale stored in his cellar were missing. The locks were intact, but there were several sticky, dark marks on the ground. They didn't look like cats or dogs, but rather like something had dragged them out, and they had an indescribable, strange smell, like rotten stones that had been buried for a long time.
Everyone assumed he had misremembered the accounts or that a stray dog had sneaked in, and they laughed at him for days.
Next was Aunt Mary from next door. Just as dawn broke, she went to the alley entrance to empty the chamber pot and let out a scream that could scare a person out of their wits.
She said she saw something "dark, hairless, with eyes like rotten mud" flash past under the sewer grate, as fast as a shadow.
People comforted her, saying that she hadn't slept well and her eyes were playing tricks on her, or that it was just a particularly large rat.
But Aunt Mary swore that she smelled the same strange odor as in the wine cellar.
Rumors, like moss in the shadows, quietly spread. Children are called home early by their parents, and the doors and windows are locked tight at night.
Some people said they heard strange scratching sounds, as if something was trying to dig through the wall. Old Jim himself felt that the holy city seemed quieter than before these past few nights, not peaceful, but a kind of... tense, unsettling deathly silence. Even the hymns that usually echoed all night seemed unable to suppress some subtle, unsettling humming from deep underground.
He told himself that it was just because he was getting old and becoming paranoid.
With the Holy Spirit protecting the Holy City, what could possibly happen?
That evening, old Jim finished his work at the church a little later than usual.
The moonlight, fragmented by the towering spires, spilled onto the deserted alleyway's cobblestones, gleaming with a cold light.
He wrapped his old coat tighter around himself, quickened his pace, and just wanted to get back to his small but warm home as soon as possible.
Just a dozen steps from the front door, in the shadows of a corner piled with discarded picture frames and miscellaneous items, a rustling sound suddenly came from the corner.
Old Jim's heart skipped a beat. He stopped and squinted his dim old eyes to look over.
The shadow shifted slightly.
Something... or rather, a lump of something, crawled out.
It was about the size of a wild dog, but its shape was extremely bizarre.
Its entire body was a wet, matte black that seemed to absorb light; its skin was like melted and solidified wax, covered with disgusting wrinkles and protruding, sharp bone spurs.
Its limbs twisted and contorted, barely managing to move, making a sticky, splattering sound. Most terrifying of all was its head—no eyes, no nose, only a constantly opening and closing black hole filled with tiny, sharp teeth, emitting a low, suffocating hoarse sound.
The familiar, rotten smell of decay suddenly intensified, rushing straight into old Jim's nostrils.
Old Jim's blood froze instantly.
He opened his mouth wide, but no sound came out. An immense fear gripped his aging heart, rendering him immobile.
That's not a rat, it's not a stray dog, so what is it? What on earth is that thing?!
The Shadow Abyss Split seemed to "smell" the presence of a living being. Its ugly head turned towards Old Jim, its empty mouth opened wider, its hoarse sounds became more rapid, and it suddenly staggered towards him!
The shadow of death descended instantly.
…………
Ron, the Holy Knight, is leading his squad on a night patrol.
The heavy, silver-white armor reflected a cold, hard luster under the moonlight, while the white-based, gold-trimmed battle robe swayed gently with each steady step.
Their route is fixed and long, covering several blocks, including the artisan district.
This was a sacred but tedious duty, one that Ron was already used to.
But lately, patrolling feels a little different.
The orders became more frequent, requiring them to be more vigilant about any "abnormal situations".
The text didn't explicitly state what the anomaly was, but an invisible tension permeated the Knights Order.
He overheard whispers among the lower-ranking priests and servants about strange noises in the cellar, missing items, and some inexplicable stains.
He usually scoffed at this—why worry unnecessarily? What real evil could there be under the Holy Light?
However, as he stepped into the narrow alley of the artisan district, a faint yet undeniable aura of evil in the air instantly put him on edge.
It was a cold, lifeless, and instinctively repulsive residual energy.
Immediately afterward, a short, suppressed scream of extreme fear reached his keen ears.
"there!"
Ron let out a low growl and instantly drew his two-handed greatsword from his waist.
The sword hummed, and a faint holy light flowed from its blade, dispelling the surrounding chill.
The two knights behind him immediately drew their weapons and followed closely.
As they turned the corner, which was piled with clutter, they witnessed a scene that made their blood boil:
An old man collapsed to the ground, too terrified to move. And lunging at him was a black monster he had never seen before, radiating an aura of intense evil!
The thing was distorted and blasphemous; just looking at it evoked disgust and anger.
Its icy energy clashed with the holy city's luminous atmosphere, like a stain of ink on a pristine white canvas.
In the name of the Holy Spirit!
Ron roared, his voice booming like a bell, containing the power of unwavering faith, capable of both deterring evil and comforting the innocent.
He strode forward, without even deliberately using complex holy light spells, but simply poured the surging holy energy within his body into the sword and swung it fiercely at the Shadow Abyss Split that lunged at the old man!
"laugh--!"
The greatsword, gleaming with holy light, sliced through the monster's body like a hot knife through butter, without any resistance.
The Shadow Abyss Split emitted a sharp screech that seemed unlike anything a living being could make, as if it were being burned or purified.
The area struck by the sword instantly emitted a large amount of black smoke, emitting an even stronger stench of burning and decay.
It twisted and struggled, but the holy light was its absolute nemesis. Its body quickly turned black and disintegrated, eventually turning into a small puddle of bubbling, rapidly evaporating black, viscous substance, leaving only the nauseating smell lingering in the air.
The battle ended in the blink of an eye.
Ron kept his sword-wielding stance, cautiously scanning his surroundings to make sure there was nothing amiss before sheathing his sword.
He walked up to old Jim, who was terrified, and knelt down.
The armor made a slight scraping sound.
"Grandpa, it's alright now. The evil has been purified."
His voice came through the visor, gentler than usual, yet carrying a reassuring strength: "Are you injured?"
Old Jim, still shaken, his lips trembling, finally managed to point shakily to the almost vanished stain on the ground:
"Knight... what... what is that thing?"
Ron paused for a moment. He couldn't answer the question either. He had never seen such a monster in any Vatican records.
It gives the feeling... not like a living thing, but more like a condensed, pure... "nothingness" and "malice".
"It was just a little hidden filth that tried to challenge the Holy Light, but it has been completely cleansed."
Ron chose to answer in an official and firm tone, helping old Jim to his feet. "We will increase patrols here. Go home as soon as possible and lock your doors and windows."
He sent one of his men to escort old Jim back.
Watching the old man's staggering figure and the last remaining black mark on the ground, Knight Ron frowned. The feeling of easy victory vanished, replaced by a heavy sense of unease.
How did these monsters appear in the core area of the Holy City? Where did they come from? How many are there?
Did the higher-ups already know something when they ordered increased patrols and vigilance?
The holy light still enveloped Van Rahil, but for the first time, Ron felt that beneath that light, some shadows that he could not understand but were real were beginning to seep in.
His duties no longer seem to be just routine patrols.
"Report this to higher authorities; there's...filth on this street."
"yes!"
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