The Cathedral of Tears stood as a cruel joke. Its white marble reflected a light that didn't exist in the Abyss, forced into brilliance by thousands of glowing "Penitence Stones" embedded in the walls. These stones didn't just provide light; they hummed with a frequency that felt like sandpaper against Kaelen's spectral skin.
[Warning: Holy Radiance exposure.]
[Malice energy depleting: 1% every 60 seconds.]
Kaelen didn't hide. He walked up the grand staircase, his violet eyes narrowed against the glare. At the top of the stairs stood the Purifiers—warriors dressed in flowing white robes, their faces hidden behind seamless silver masks. Unlike the hollow armor of the guards, these were living men and women—fanatics who had traded their humanity for a drop of divine power.
"The filth approaches the font," one Purifier chanted, raising a sword that dripped with glowing, consecrated oil. "Do you seek washings, Sinner?"
"I'm here to dry the place out," Kaelen said.
The Purifiers moved in a synchronized blur. They didn't just slash; they threw jars of "Holy Water" that exploded into white fire upon contact.
Kaelen dashed through the first explosion, the heat searing his misty form. He reached the lead Purifier and drove his obsidian claws into the man's chest. He didn't kill him instantly. He used Malice Transfer.
The Purifier's silver mask cracked. His fanatical devotion—the mental shield that kept him "pure"—was suddenly flooded with Kaelen's memory of the Abyss. The isolation. The cold. The feeling of being a "disposable tool."
"No... the Light... it protects..." the Purifier whimpered.
"The Light just uses you to see in the dark," Kaelen whispered.
[Skill Activated: Soul Siphon.]
The holy oil on the Purifier's sword turned black. The man collapsed, his skin turning the same sickly grey as Kaelen's once was. He wasn't dead, but his "Purity" was gone. To the Cathedral, he was now just more "trash" to be burned.
The other Purifiers froze as the Cathedral's own defenses—the glowing stones in the walls—turned their beams toward their fallen comrade, incinerating him where he lay.
"See?" Kaelen mocked, his voice a rasping echo. "Your God doesn't even recognize you once you've been touched by the truth."
[Level Up: 18 -> 19]
[Malice Load: 45%]
He kicked open the massive ivory doors of the inner sanctum. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of incense and burning flesh. Hundreds of "Dregs"—Orcs, Elves, and Humans—were chained to the floor, forced to stare at a giant, weeping statue of Solaris.
In the center of the room stood the High Inquisitor. He was a spindly man in crimson robes, holding a branding iron that glowed with a terrifying, white-hot intensity. Around his neck, the Second Key pulsed in rhythm with the statue's tears.
"The Thirteenth," the Inquisitor said, not turning around. "The martyr who crawled back from the grave. You've caused quite a mess in my lobby."
"I'm here for the key, Inquisitor," Kaelen said, his whip of dark energy crackling against the marble floor.
"The key is for those who have found peace," the Inquisitor said, turning slowly. His eyes had been stitched shut with gold thread. "You are nothing but a walking storm of resentment. Tell me, Kaelen Vance... does it still hurt? The way they looked at you when they pushed?"
Kaelen's violet fire flared. "It hurts enough to kill everyone in this room."
"Good," the Inquisitor smiled, raising his branding iron. "Let's see if you can handle a few more scars."
[Boss Encounter: High Inquisitor Malphas (Lv. 30)]
[Environment Hazard: Radiant Chains (Active)]
Suddenly, the floor beneath Kaelen erupted into glowing chains, binding his spectral limbs to the white marble. The light began to eat into his soul, and for the first time since his evolution, Kaelen felt a scream building in his throat.