"DXD: Infinite Loot System"Chapter 368: Griselda's Lament (Part 2)
"This is all your fault!"
Griselda's rage erupted. A blade of holy light flashed into her hand as she lunged at Tenra, every fiber of her being screaming for vengeance.
It's him. He tampered with my body, dragged me into darkness, made me lose myself. If I kill him, maybe—just maybe—I'll be cleansed. Finally free.
But Tenra and the others barely reacted. Before her blade could even touch him, Griselda's attack faltered. She froze, chest heaving, face contorted in agony and confusion. Tears welled in her eyes, shimmering with desperation.
"Griselda… would you really kill your god?"
Tenra's hand reached out, gently caressing her cheek—his voice dripping with feigned heartbreak.
With a dull clang, the sword slipped from Griselda's trembling fingers and clattered to the floor. She staggered backward, clutching her mouth.
"No… no…"
"I… I…"
Guilt crashed over her, suffocating. She'd just tried to murder her Lord—her god.
No, he's not the Lord. Not a god. He's a demon!
No… he IS the Lord!
Two warring truths collided in her mind, tearing her apart. And then—
Griselda shattered.
"Ahhhhh!"
She fell to her knees, clutching her head, a raw, guttural wail bursting from her lips.
"Griselda…" Xenovia started toward her, concern etched on her face, but Tenra stopped her with a single look.
Griselda was teetering on the edge—the point of no return. Now was not the time for mercy; any weakness would ruin everything.
Her cries echoed through the room, a symphony of suffering. In any other circumstance, the commotion would have drawn every priest and nun within earshot. But Tenra's barrier sealed the space—no sound could escape. Only those inside bore witness to Griselda's torment.
On and on she screamed, until her voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper. Finally, Tenra stepped forward.
"Griselda, I know your pain. I know your confusion. I understand everything you're feeling."
He knelt beside her, his tone gentle, almost fatherly.
"Don't blame yourself for what happened. Whatever you do, I'll forgive you."
His hand brushed her cheek, and slowly, the storm inside Griselda began to quiet. The Holy Lord was so merciful—and she, so unworthy.
A faint smile curled Tenra's lips.
"Griselda, you don't have to suffer. You don't have to be lost. The great Lord is gone; I am the inheritor of His will. You haven't betrayed the Lord, or Gabriel. You've simply found your true new Lord."
"You've always believed, haven't you? Believed in my teachings. Believed in my ideals."
"So, open your heart. Free your true self. Have faith in me. Follow me. Serve me. Let's build our ideal world together…"
His words flowed like honey, patient and kind, as if guiding a child. Aisha and Xenovia, his devoted followers, listened with shining eyes, faces radiant with pure devotion.
Irina, by contrast, turned away, unable to watch—her expression twisted with discomfort.
Tenra, you're manipulating her again…
But Tenra's persuasion was more than words. As he spoke, he unleashed the power of [Angel's Demonic Voice], a Sacred Gear that twisted minds and bent wills. His voice became irresistible, laced with magic that seeped into Griselda's soul.
He'd honed this power carefully. With a glance, he could turn the average person into a zealot, a puppet. Griselda, though strong-willed and blessed, had been seeded long ago with the [Seed of Faith]. Months of slow corruption had worn her down, left her vulnerable—her soul teetering on the brink.
Now, with Tenra's final push, her last defenses crumbled.
"Holy Lord…"
Griselda gazed up at Tenra, guilt melting away, replaced by a warmth and peace she'd never known.
Yes. I haven't betrayed the Lord. Or Gabriel. This man is the new Lord—the inheritor of the will. It's right to follow him. To believe in him.
Her eyes filled with the same fervor and devotion as Aisha and Xenovia.
Tenra saw it all, satisfaction blooming in his chest.
Another soul harvested.
The fruit was ripe. Time to claim his prize.
He swept Griselda into his arms and laid her gently on the bed.
She had surrendered in spirit—but true conquest demanded body and soul.
After all, the Queen of Hearts was a rare beauty.
"Griselda, offer me everything."
Carefully, reverently, Tenra undressed her piece by piece. Her flawless skin glowed in the dim light, every curve revealed for him alone.
"Holy Lord, I… I…"
Griselda covered herself, cheeks aflame with embarrassment—a bittersweet mix of joy and shame at her first offering.
But suddenly—
"No!"
Like the last flicker of a dying candle, Griselda's mind snapped awake.
But it was far too late.
Tenra's laughter rang out, wild and triumphant. He descended upon her like a wolf.
…
"Sister Griselda, are you there? It's Jerome."
Outside Griselda's room, the young priest knocked softly.
He'd asked everyone about her, but no one knew what was wrong. They'd only seen her praying and repenting, muttering about sin and guilt. Griselda was a living saint—how could she bear such burdens? Something was wrong, but no one had answers. Frustrated, Jerome had come to ask her himself.
"Sister Griselda? Sister Griselda?"
He knocked again. Silence.
A strange sound seemed to drift from inside, but when he listened closely, it vanished. Was she asleep already?
Maybe he was being too anxious. It wouldn't be polite to disturb her rest. After a moment's hesitation, Jerome turned and left, deciding to return in the morning.
Meanwhile, inside—
"Mmmf! Mmmf!"
Griselda's eyes were wide, her body trembling as she knelt on the bed, desperate to break free.
Tenra gripped her waist from behind, driving into her again and again. Xenovia clamped Griselda's mouth shut, smothering her cries.
In the sacred halls of the church, depravity reigned. The young priest would never know what he'd missed, or how foolish his decision to walk away truly was…
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