"Master, I will try my best..."
The next moment, Hazmor felt her world turn into a void; aside from Jiang Lu reciting Mark 15, there was nothing but the desperate wails of Clement VI and the clicking sounds from Bishop Raphael's throat.
She closed her eyes, immersing herself in this gently enveloping world.
All those thousands of years had been lived in vain... she thought silently...
Two people had been hung on the true cross.
One was Jesus, and the other was Hazmor.
Jesus's was one of agony, while Hazmor's was pleasure.
Jesus shed the holy blood, darkening the cross, turning the rotting wood into a holy relic.
Hazmor, on the other hand, cleansed the cross, stripping the holy relic of its veneer, turning it back into a piece of rotting wood.
Across the Western Continent, countless faithful to God felt as if something had cracked within their hearts at this instant.
Confused, they looked up at the sky.
It suddenly seemed not quite so unattainable as before...
