Chapter 102 Chapter 20 Blood Judgment
“Vampire?”
Verafia’s eyes flickered, and the small hand hanging by her delicate body couldn’t help but tremble, but she quickly concealed it. The young girl followed up by pulling her skirt hem with her fingertips, her raised scorching gold eyes now showing surprise.
“I heard from Ig that all the vampires in your Peka Kingdom were imprisoned in the North Wind Graveyard in the north… guarded by a legion? How… could there be traces of them in Rubiel City?”
“North Wind Graveyard, yes, after fifty years ago, all vampires within Peka should have been imprisoned in that land. However, Miss Verafia, the rumors I speak of are not baseless.”
Verodia lowered her eyes slightly, looked at the golden-haired girl who raised her small face questioningly, and chuckled softly.
“Then what are you referring to?”
A hint of confusion still lingered on Verafia’s cheeks. Ig, behind her, seemed to have thought of something and stepped forward to ask.
“Yesterday, the thieves Verafia and I encountered, the Bloodwind Blade, Young Lady also said they possess the power of blood. Miss Verodia, are you referring to these people?”
“Bloodwind Blade… That’s right, I’ve heard about their deeds several times in Rubiel City these past few days, and Mr. Dylan has also told me about the Blood Wings that Miss Verafia fought. However, the traces of the Blood Race in Rubiel City that are rumored are not limited to these half-blood creatures.”
Verodia reached out to brush her hair aside, revealing her fair face, and turned to the young man who walked to her side. She didn’t intend to hide it and said.
“Mr. Ig, do you know the origin of this city?”
“The origin of Rubiel… hasn’t it always been Duke Dawn’s territory? Are you implying…” Ig’s voice suddenly tensed.
“It seems you already know what I want to say.”
Verodia chuckled softly, her gaze towards the distance clear and bright.
“Before that war, this territory was ruled by a legendary vampire duke. Although he has been dead for many years now, it is possible that there are still descendants or followers who remain to this day.”
Verafia’s eyes trembled and fell into Ig’s eyes. She suddenly raised her face, turning her sparklingly beautiful golden eyes, her slender jade fingers pointing to the square in the distance, crowded and surrounded by city residents.
“Verodia, Ig, what are they doing?”
—
The noisy crowd in her ears, the vigorous cheers of anger and hatred, under the daylight, the bright light of the raised silver cross flame was still dazzling, just like its symbolic meaning, burning all evil in the world.
Verafia pulled Ig, and her delicate body easily squeezed through the gaps between people. Behind her, Verodia and Dylan also followed.
The Bard looked up and saw the figure of the silver cross, strummed his harp: “A just judgment.”
Verafia raised her scorching gold eyes.
On the high platform beneath the cross prison, in the young girl’s eyes, was a solemn and stern purple-robed bishop. The purple-robed bishop tightly grasped the silver cross with his right hand against his chest, and between his white hair and beard, there was the unique disgust and anger that a Sacred Light cleric had towards heretical fiends.
Under the almost tangible golden-white light, the tattered clothes could not block anything. The man’s face, withered and emaciated to the point of being almost unrecognizable, was full of fear.
He was covered in wounds, and it was likely that he had already undergone interrogation and torture, or perhaps venting of anger, but on the man’s incredibly pale face, the pain stemmed more from the scorching sacred light that should have felt warm.
The priest standing behind the man continued to cast healing sacred light spells, bringing him pain, yet maintaining the life force necessary for atonement.
“This is…” Verafia couldn’t help but let out a slight sound.
“Miss Verafia, do you remember what I just said? There are traces of vampires in Rubiel City, and this unlucky fellow is probably their product.”
Verafia nodded, didn’t ask further, but raised her face.
In the solemn and grand judgment, the silver sacred light was glaring, and the fluttering pure white banners bore a sacred light cross emblem drawn in gold.
The purple-robed bishop swept his gaze over the kneeling man in silence, his eyes filled with sacred light, full of disgust. He lowered the cross he held tightly and said in a devout and righteous voice that deafened the ears.
“… Citizens, please bear witness. The facts have been ascertained, and the evil before you has forsaken the grace of the Sacred Light and the gods, and has thrown itself into the deceptive words of the blood remnants.”
“This person is jealous, greedy, arrogant, cruel, and wicked. Not only did he abandon his human identity and willingly become a slave to blood race beasts, but he even personally led the blood race scum to slaughter our brothers and sisters! The tragedies of Horn Village and Guelph Village half a month ago were all his doing!”
Verafia slightly furrowed her thin brows and looked up intently. The citizens around her cursed and yelled, their emotions stirred, united against a common enemy.
The man, held tightly by a silver-armored knight, showed extreme fear. Ignoring the pain on his body, he struggled to get up:
“I didn’t! I was framed… Ugh!”
Before the man could finish his words, he was punched hard in the abdomen by a Holy Temple Knight who looked at him with disgust and coldness. He doubled over, swallowing all his words.
The purple-robed bishop’s gaze coldly fell on the hideous heretic writhing on the ground like a dehydrated fish. He snorted coldly and suddenly spoke loudly again.
“The gods are watching: Please impose eternal damnation upon this sinner, let his soul fall into the seven layers of hell, and be entangled by pain and regret forever, but never again to be redeemed.”
The purple-robed bishop finally turned to the knight standing before him, released the silver cross he held tightly, and lowered his head slightly: “Fire cannot purify its sins, only pure silver can eradicate such evil souls from harming the human world. Knight, execute it.”
“Yes, Bishop Lord.”
The knight replied. He raised his silver greatsword, and divine light flashed on the sword. His heavily armored body walked step by step before the sinner about to be executed. The twig-like sinner opened his eyes in terror, wanting to roar, but unable to make a sound.
The greatsword swung down with pure light, and cheers erupted from the crowd.
The sinner’s head rolled to the ground, but not a drop of blood splashed out, as if all the blood had dried up, leaving only scorched flesh and blood at the cut.
The purple-robed bishop finally spoke, his expression stern, in stark contrast to evil.
“The Blood Judgment has been sealed for many years. Today, by the will of Duke Lord and the Sacred Light, we reawaken it to warn those who bow to the evil of the Blood Race.”
“Blood Judgment…”
Verafia couldn’t help but whisper the name.
