Emily thought back to the answers she got from asking some passing locals.
“Priests? Oh, by the way, I’ve noticed you often go to the back alleys of the market these days.”
“I went to visit the child at night because he was sick, but no one was there. Later in the morning, I went to visit again and found there was a meeting taking place at night.”
“I don’t know where they are going… Ah! Now that I think about it, it’s strange that they haven’t been making holy water these days.”
Priestess Emily frowned as she fiddled with her purse, which had grown lighter from giving away a few pennies to reluctant merchants.
‘This doesn’t feel right..’ she thought.
Taking a deep breath, the priestess began to walk carefully, step by step, down the dark alley.
The alley looked neat, with gray-painted bricks on both sides, but something black and slimy constantly flowed between the cracks. Without any fear, Emily touched the fluid flowing from the walls and floor with her hand. She brought it close to her nose and sniffed it, catching a faint fishy smell.
“Hmm, what is this? Is this an ingredient I don’t know about?”
Muttering uncharacteristic words to herself, she moved deeper and deeper until she eventually reached the end of a dark alley where even the streetlights couldn’t reach.
The priestess frowned as she looked at the pure white ‘something’ lying under her feet.
“…Well, this is my first time in a situation like this.”
She slowly bent down, lifting her pure white priestly robes. What she saw beneath was not a tree branch but a human c0rpse.
The back alleys of Aran.
Countless corpses lay at a dead-end street.
Emily pursed her lips as she examined the bodies of priests that resembled dried, twisted old trees, as if all their blood had been stolen.
“I just followed along on a tour, and now I’m caught up in something strange? At my age, I didn’t want this.”
Emily inspected the priests’ uniforms one by one and checked for pulses, just in case.
A small voice reached her ears.
“…Help… Save me…”
“Is anyone alive?”
Startled by the sudden sound, Emily nearly fell backward. She hurriedly ran in the direction of the voice.
At the end of the alley, she found a person leaning gently against the wall. Judging by their small, slender frame, she appeared to be a priestess.
“Can you hear me? It’s okay. My name is Emily Emily Ridina. I will treat you now.”
Even as she hurried over, trying to stay composed, her eyes remained fixed on the fallen priestess.
An alleyway, wiped-out priests, a dead end, and only one survivor.
As Emily drew on her divine power for healing, something sharp wafted into her heightened senses. A faint scent of bl0od emanated from the lips of the priestess before her.
It was too late.
“You’re quicker than I thought. Are you really a priest?”
Suddenly, a silver-shining sword shot out from the arms of the seemingly helpless priestess. Her movements were so fast that Emily couldn’t react.
Kwasik!
“…Cough.”
Emily’s eyes slowly lowered to her chest, where her heart was pierced by the strange, crooked sword. She felt no pain, but fishy blo0d trickled down her neck.
“…Rom…”
Emily forcefully swallowed the blood rising in her throat. Summoning her divine power, she threw sacred flames at the devil.
However, the devil disguised in pure white priestly robes evaded the sacred flames as if jesting. It playfully hurled the magic-infused sword once again.
Kwasik!
The sword stabbed into her chest, where her heart had already been pierced. A mysterious energy spread from the crooked blade, tearing her chest apart entirely.
As her strength waned, the pure white flames in Emily’s hands began to fade.
The priestess before her—no, the devil—opened its black eyes, chuckling as it mocked her.
“Ahahaha! I k!lled another one! I k!lled another priest!”
The devil, its white robes slipping away, revealed a grotesque girl with black veins protruding all over her body. She laughed maniacally, her mouth splitting unnaturally wide.
Emily collapsed onto the cold stone floor, barely able to gaze at the monstrosity.
The fluid flowing from the alley’s cracks was fishy and slimy.
Now she understood.
This black essence wasn’t mere waste—it was the devil’s essence.
The entire alley was the devil’s maw.
“Priestess Emily, remember,” she recalled Brukin’s voice warning her, “fighting like a heretic inquisitor won’t do you any good.”
Feeling the chilling touch of the devil crawling into her body, Emily exhaled her last breath.
Her torn heart ceased its beat.
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Check out my other projects: Rehabilitating the Villainess, Pushover Extra Trains the Villainesses, I Picked Up an Amnesiac Witch, Transmigrated as the Butler of a Defeated Heroine, My Summons Are Special