Ann and Brittney shivered in their saddles. They stole the Church's horses, although they were disguised—well, Ann was— as Priestesses. Reincart didn't take well to impersonators and thieves as much as Cindy's town of Vilheim.
The bigger issue was the destruction of the Capital behind them. It still hung in their minds. Their horses plodded on, their saddles fresh and stocked.
"What was that? How can the Capital fall so easily, John!?" Ann asked.
"The Dark Lord's power is inherited, that's why," John said.
"20 years later and he still causes problems? What is he, immortal?" Ann complained. Brittney looked curiously at her.
"The Dark Lord Chen Chen wiped out the past Gods and very likely caused my old God to die, even when Chen Chen was losing. It was a miracle that the Heavens attacked him directly for interfering with our Realm."
"The Dark Lord comes from a different... Realm?"
"Yes, and he can move Realms without punishment somehow. It means he can hide from the Heavens themselves if he wants. He's a powerful evil."
"Is the Church safe? They attacked the Pope first."
"He should be fine. He had my Book of Faith to support his power. They also learned tactics on how to deal with demons and the Dark Lord. For now, we need to gather believers. I have my hopes on you, Ann."
John went quiet. It was too serious.
"So what did Our God John say?" Brittney said.
Her horse continued marching on the dirt road next to Ann.
"We need to spread His word. There are more Dark Lords, so we have to get Heroes to kill them before Derob dies."
"Shouldn't we be hurrying to Reincart, then?"
Ann and Brittney rushed their horses ahead of the Capital's refugees. Now they were moving more leisurely to rest their horses and get rid of the soreness from riding strapping stallions...
"No, it should be fine for now. The Dark Lords should be much weaker. The Pope should have it under control," Ann said, uncaring and relaxed.
"Are you sure?" Brittney worried.
"It's fine! We should focus more on finding a way to survive!"
Ann continued strumming her lyre and singing. Brittney held her hands in prayer as they moved to Reincart, which was just in the distance.
A long line of travelers and merchants slowly moved through the gates. Guards vigilantly scoured every entrant before waving them through.
"Make sure to not bring attention from any Young Masters, the local Tyrant, any merchants, any gangs, or any old people," Ann advised Brittney.
"Why do you think I need to hide so badly?"
"It's better not to get into trouble when we can avoid it. We are two beautiful Priestesses in a time where stupid John made all men open perverts!"
"Oh! Look!"
Brittney pointed at the guards at the portcullis.
A commotion broke out between two carriages and their wagons were surrounded by guardsmen.
"Move your measly cart! You stand before Iliad Von Roheim! I am a Third Tier Magister of the Wizard's Company! I refuse to wait for commoners to pass while I wait for my lunch!"
A young man in a gilded blue robe swished his sleeve. An intricate insignia flashed on his shoulder, showing three crimson streaks to prove his identity.
"F*ck, do you dare speak so boldly!? Do you know who you're speaking to, you ret*rd!?"
A filthy middle-aged man in worn leather armor stomped. His hand itched at his sheathed sword.
"Get in line! You all need inspection before anyone goes anywhere other than the Stockades!"
The man in charge of the guards popped his huge shoulders. His men throbbed with strength and skill, likely being old subpar graduates or dropouts from the Capital.
"Wait! Berry! Let Sir Roheim go first. I can wait!"
The carriage in front opened and it looked like a scholarly man in plain white robes stepped out.
"Young Lad—Young Master! We don't have to face their family's impertinence! Please, save face!"
"Enough! I tried being undercover but fate says otherwise!"
"Fate my *ss! Stop fooling anyone! You're scared of me, Yours Truly, Iliad Von Roheim!" The Magister flung his sleeves like a proud hero.
"Quit playing around before we arrest you for causing a disturbance! We are fully able to detain you for a few days. Who's to say what will happen to you during that time?"
The man laughed with his fellow guardsmen.
"Stop playing a drama, youngsters."
An old man stepped out from the crowd of gossiping people. His cane tapped against the group, supporting his weight. He looked like a little wind could break his bones.
"Old man, mind your own f*cking business! This is the matter of pride for the younger generations!" Iliad shouted, his sleeves flicking through the air as his head rested on his hand, like he was in deep thought.
"You! How can someone be so foolish?" said a greying granny from the crowd.
"He's gone past courting death and is f*cking her in her own bed!" said a bald uncle with a beard.
"Who raises such arrogant boys nowadays?" tsked an auntie with a big belly.
"Oi, shut up you f*cking commoners! You're talking to a future Sixth Tier Magister!" Iliad screamed.
"And you're talking to me, Bardon Crolosh, a Sixth Tier Magister," said the old man. He pulled his sleeve, showing a similarly intricate insignia, but it had four crimson lines with a crimson slash through them. A violet line circled the crimson lines and pulsed with power.
"W-what? It can't be THE Bardon Crolosh, the Vice Principal of the Wizard Company's Academy?!" Iliad cried.
"And I'm Verdith Moriad!" said the granny, taking out her own crest of a curling Dragon.
"THE Verdith Moriad of the Draconic Riders Company? The mega delivery and supplying company?! Impossible!" Iliad screamed.
"And I'm Carl," said the bald uncle as he stroked his beard. He pulled out his platinum crest.
"No! It's THE Carl, Platinum Journeyman, of the Flashing Sword?!"
"And I'm Judith Olrignt!" shouted the auntie.
"Oh, God, it's Judith, THE— wait, who the f*ck are you?" Iliad said, wobbling on his feet. His mind was in chaos.
"I'm just pregnant."
"Motherf*cker, don't scare me then, b*tch! Iliad howled.
He really f*cked up, offending a mysterious person, Bardon Crolosh, Carl the Flashing Sword, and the guards of Reincart. It was no different from eating sh*t for the rest of his life! His future was guaranteed to be full of hardships, debts, and conspiracies to ruin his ascension in the Wizard's Company!
"I'm pregnant but you didn't hear who was the father, stupid boy!" the auntie teased.
"Oh f*ck me and my big mouth!" Iliad broke down.
"He's the Pope."
Done. Kaput. Iliad was finished. He might as well wash his neck and get a knife to cut it so they don't need to go through all the trouble of screwing him anymore.
"You're coming with us!" said the Guardsmen.
Iliad collapsed like a sack of rice. They pulled him away, ending the drama.
"...What the— was all of that?" Brittney muttered.
"That was the power of authority. Never get attention in public or you will be dragged into the mess. Trust me, I've seen it firsthand."
Ann shivered. The trauma laid deep.
"The Dark Lords must be powerful for such influential figures to come to Reincart."
The crowd sluggishly moved forward after the powerhouses were waved on through. The scholar in the first carriage was easily forgotten.
John? He screamed in frustration because he only had two true believers: Brittney and the Pope. Not even his Apostle had true faith in him and she knew of his existence.
"Little girl, you think too highly of yourself!"
John's disheveled made him look possessed. Many figurines, artworks, and statues of Ann surrounded him. The next one of them was more perverted than the next.
The ones he made of Brittney numbered in the tens as stand-alone works. But when John got his sticky hands to put her together with Ann...
John laughed maniacally. Who cared about Derob? The Heavens protected him and the Dark Lords' children never could reach him!
John grabbed at the full-scale Ann replica he made. He long since "graduated" from body pillows.
"Ooooo... Supple breasts, but not quite the real feeling. Needs something else added..."
A raging "Dragon" stirred in his toga.
"I must experiment more to get a realistic doll that I can "use" personally... Eheheh! I'll make sure to "teach" her well!"
John spun around on his chair, feeling ecstatic!
He never felt more alive than now!