Succubus cannot be a saint

Moise's fawning smile froze on his face.

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Woo woo woo, please give me some money and razor blades (rolling around)

Volume 3: The Faith Revolution of the Succubus Saint: Chapter 277: Smashed, Burned, and Chopped

——The woman’s name.

Jenny, Mary, or Lena?

The chance of survival was right in front of him, and Moise frantically recalled and pondered. But the more he thought, the more the ecstasy and hope in his heart cooled down.

He was like a prisoner in a chaotic room, frantically searching for the key to the door. This was his only hope of survival.

But looking at the cold and pale face of the girl in front of him, and her eyes deeply buried in the shadow of her bangs, he suddenly realized something.

He didn't even know the mountain woman's name. From the moment he saw her to the brief moment he pulled up his pants and hurried away, he didn't ask her name, and it was even more impossible for him to know it later.

"Haha, hahahahahaha... It's like this, my daughter..."

Moise's mouth stretched out a dry laugh, and as he laughed he racked his brains furiously, forcing out one flattering and supplicating syllable after another.

"At that time...! Before I left your mother, I swore to her that I would never mention her name again until I accomplished something great and brought her out of that desolate little town... When I called out her name again, it was... when I went to pick her up with endless gold coins! So, so I can't say it now, daughter... daughter, you will definitely understand me, right? Understand the love between your mother and me, right?"

Will it work? Will it work? This lie, conjured up in just a few seconds? No, it will work. Little girls of this age are naive and foolish, full of fantasies about that kind of rubbish, unrealistic love story.

She definitely would, she would definitely believe it. How could I possibly die here? How could I possibly die here…

Then he saw a strange smile on that pale, tender little face. The girl turned and walked away. Moise moved his body desperately to look at her figure.

Going out, I can go out by myself! She must have gone to get the key! I can go out by myself——

His thoughts were interrupted the moment the girl activated the silence circle.

Snap, snap. The girl's figure gradually returned, from darkness back into light, and also back to silence. His pupils gradually widened as he watched the innocent and lovely little nun approach him, head lowered, and silently pulled out the cloth-wrapped war hammer from her back.

Then she raised her head. Her lusterless green eyes stared at him intently, a dim flame burning within them, like a demon, like a ghost.

Suddenly, her lips moved. There was no sound within the Circle of Silence, but Moise still understood the words she spoke.

——You, tell, lies.

The next second, golden flames suddenly broke through the cloth and burned fiercely. The hammer in the girl's hand turned into a golden fireball and swung down suddenly!

........................

——It was a very strange scene.

The silence circle blocked the sound, and neither the loud bang nor Moise's screams were heard.

But there was a big hole on the floor of the cell with a depth of half a meter and a radius of three meters.

The rocky ground turned red and soft under the golden flames, and Moise's left leg, along with the chain, had disappeared.

The broken part of his left leg was dark and blurry, and the flesh and blood were instantly carbonized by the burning of the holy flame. The man's face was twisted wildly, and his face was covered with tears, saliva and snot. His mouth, lips and tongue kept dancing, as if he was screaming something heartbreakingly.

Ah, that seemed to be a plea for mercy. But Isadore could no longer hear it.

She felt her body and heart become light, and an inexplicable sense of lightness filled her whole body, almost making her float - revenge was so sweet, even she herself could not say why she was taking revenge.

Was it for the deceased mother he had never met? For the innocent citizens who had nearly been sacrificed? Or—for his own obsession with "purity"?

She didn't know what was going on anymore. She only knew she wanted more, wanted to see more of this man's face twisted in torture. She wanted him to suffer more, more.

But at this moment, he felt a burning sensation on his palm.

It was as if—yes, as if the holy hammer was rejecting her. The holy flame on the hammer head was extinguished, and after the initial blow, it seemed to refuse to become a tool of torture again.

Green smoke rose from her palm, which was tightly gripping the hammer handle, and the burning pain in her flesh stimulated her nerves. Isadore was stunned.

A dark emotion welled up in her again. Was it resentment? Shame? Rage? She didn't know, she couldn't tell.

She suddenly raised her head and let out a silent laugh. Her green eyes completely lost their luster and she suddenly raised the holy hammer, which had turned into an ordinary war hammer.

Even if you reject me, I won't stop! I want him dead, I want him to pay the price, I want him to suffer, I want him—

The first blow broke his arm.

The second hammer crushed his chest.

The third hammer smashed his head.

Each blow was delivered with a kind of resentful meticulousness, the hammer head breaking bones, crushing tendons, carefully grinding every inch of internal organs, and smearing blood and flesh on the rock of the cell.

It was not until a pair of soft arms hugged Isadore from behind that the holy hammer, which was not stained with a drop of blood, fell to the ground with a loud bang.

Isadore turned her head slowly, only to see Salora's pale face and tear-filled eyes. At that moment, her heart skipped a beat, as if she had finally been pulled back from hell. Only then did the excruciating pain in her hands become so palpable throughout her body.

The overwhelming anger and hatred were washed away by Sharlene's tears in an instant, and were replaced by guilt, regret, confusion and sadness that overwhelmed everything like a tsunami.

What have I done? What have I done? Isadore asked herself frantically, but all she got was the echo of sadness and confusion in her heart.

Obviously, the Saint Lady had given him the highest honor, and he had clearly received the recognition of the Holy Hammer, but he destroyed it with his own hands. Now everything is irreversible.

I'm sorry, Saint Lady, I'm sorry.

The girl slowly knelt down, her knees resting on the blood-stained rocky ground. She clutched Salleh's hands and cried silently, tears falling drop by drop as they washed away the blood on her face.

..............................

Without any legal verdict, Moise's life came to an end.

Sharlelei held the unconscious Isadore in one hand and picked up the fallen Holy Hammer with the other. Unexpectedly, the Holy Hammer did not burn her palm, and the golden flame on the hammer head lit up again.

Why was this happening? Even Charlene couldn't come up with an answer. To her, Moise's death wasn't a big deal. If she hadn't been interested, his death would have been far worse.

But no matter what, Isadore's lynching - or killing - of Moise was a foregone conclusion, which violated the goddess's first definition of mercy, "not taking pleasure in the suffering of others", and the Holy Hammer no longer recognized her as its master.

Was it my fault? Staring at the light at the dungeon exit, Shalelei asked herself again and again, should I not let Isadore know about this, should I not let her meet Moise?

--No.

Then she let out a long sigh.

There is no point in asking myself this question again. The most important thing now is how to untie Isadore's knot in her heart.

"...It's okay, Isadore." She whispered softly, "Like I said, I will always be by your side, no matter what happens..."

Volume 3: The Faith Revolution of the Succubus Saint: Chapter 278: Who told you these words?

"Can I come in, Isadore?"

There was a knock on the door, and the girl sitting on the bed raised her head woodenly.

Her hands had been healed by Shalelei's magic, carefully smeared with ointment and bandaged. The blood on her face had also been carefully wiped away, and her skin had returned to its whiteness—no, it should be said that it was too pale, so pale that it had no blood.

She had also taken down the holy emblem in the shape of a holy silver lily and placed it aside.

Isadore sat on the bed like a puppet, not reacting at all, as if her soul and vitality had left her body.

In fact, her heart seemed to have left her body and she was trapped in tormenting regret.

Why, why did he do that? He had lost the Holy Hammer's approval and the qualification to be the most important person to the Saint.

But even so, she could not forget the fiery, hateful pleasure that flowed through her heart when she swung the holy hammer at Moise. It was like a flame, burning her skin, flowing through her body, urging her to vent it.

Then she let the flames consume her, immersed in the pleasure of destruction.

No need to think, just swing the hammer, feel the slight heat of the blood splashing on your face, and feel the touch of flesh being torn.

"——Isadore, I'm coming in?"

However, a sound outside the door interrupted the girl's thoughts. She trembled all over, and tears suddenly welled up in her lifeless green eyes, falling one by one onto the quilt. She instinctively wanted to hide, but before she could do that, the door was pushed open.

When she saw the white figure, her tears could no longer be stopped and flowed down her cheeks like pearls from a broken string.

And behind Sharlele, there was another little black head peeking out - it was Willie.

The moment she saw Willie, Isadore's body trembled even more violently, and she kept thinking to herself - she's here too, she's here too! She knows about this too, so is she here to laugh at me?

But soon, Willie shook her head, whispered something to Sallelei, and retreated, her figure disappearing. Isadore was startled, a stone in her heart fell to the ground, but for some reason, she cried even harder.

"Isadore."

"Salora whispered," she said softly, coming to the little nun's bedside and, ignoring her struggles, holding her in her arms. Isadore trembled, sinking deeply into this soft embrace, breathing in the familiar and beloved fragrance. A blush involuntarily appeared on her little face, but her body trembled even more violently, and tears flowed down one by one, wetting Salora's bra.

"It's okay, Isadore, it's okay..." She whispered before the little nun could speak, stroking her hair.

But after hearing her words, Isadore cried even louder, "It's not okay! Lady Saint, I... I lost the recognition of the Holy Hammer. I did that kind of thing. I'm no longer qualified to be your Knight of the Throne, nor to be the Captain of your Holy Guards. I, I——!"

Halfway through her speech, she burst into tears, and buried her tear-stained face again, burying herself in the soft valley of the Saint, crying bitterly.

"That's why I said...it's okay." Sharlene patted her back gently, letting the girl bury her tears in her chest. She said softly, "Isadore, raise your head. I want to ask you, can you be a Knight of the Throne, can you be the Captain of my Holy Guard? Who decides?"

Isaac's sobbing gradually subsided. With tearful eyes, she raised her head, gazed at Salaret, and whispered through sobs, "It's you, Saint..."

"Since it's me, then whether you can become a Knight of the Throne and Captain of the Holy Guard should be decided by me, right?" Sharlene cupped her soft, moist little face and rubbed it gently. "So, I'm saying now...it's okay, Isadore. You're still my Captain of the Holy Guard, and my Knight of the Throne...What, are you going to leave me alone?"

"I didn't leave you alone, or anything like that!" Isadore said in panic, but when she thought of the Holy Hammer that had abandoned her, and the dark hatred that flowed freely in her heart when she faced Moise, her tears welled up again. "It's just, it's just - I - I -"

—I am no longer clean, no longer pure. I am full of stains, I have done such cruel things, I am no longer worthy of being by your side.

"It's okay, Isadore, do you remember what I said? That day, I told you——"

——Even if you gain the recognition of the Holy Hammer, it will not necessarily belong to you forever.

——And even if you don’t get its recognition, it doesn’t mean you will never have a chance to experience it again.

——As long as you practice the goddess's teachings, perhaps one day, she will lend you her power as well.

"The Holy Hammer can't represent everything. It no longer recognizes you, but I still do, Isadore." Salares blinked and wiped away the tears from Isadore's face. "To me, my Throne Knight, my Holy Guard Captain, can only be you. No one else."

"Furthermore, even if you temporarily lose the Holy Hammer's recognition, I believe that one day in the near future, you will hold it in your hands again."

"I don't blame you at all for killing Moise. This man deserved no death. If he made you lose faith in yourself, how could I avenge him? Dig up his ashes and kill him again?"

As she spoke, Sallelei rubbed Isadore's cheek vigorously, then suddenly leaned in and kissed her gently. However, this kiss lingered on the girl's cheek for a long time, her soft lips rubbing against her skin vigorously. After a long time, Sallelei raised her head, her purple eyes filled with a strange light.

"Lady Saint..." Isadore said in a trembling voice. She wanted to say something, but she was choked.

Can I still be your Holy Guard leader, the most special person by your side? But, but I'm already tainted. I don't deserve to stay by your side. I, I... I've tasted that dark hatred. I... I'm afraid that one day, it will control me again...

"You little rascal, you're still calling me Saint?" Shalelei poked her forehead with her eyes full of love. Isadore covered her head and was stunned for two seconds before she suddenly realized what was going on. She blushed and stammered shyly, "Sister Sasha..."

"What's wrong with you? Oh, it's been very strange lately." Salare sighed, squeezed Isadore without any courtesy, sat down next to her, lifted the quilt to cover herself, hugged the unsuspecting little nun and pressed her against her chest, combing her messy hair.

"First you became inexplicably quiet, and then it was like you were hiding something from me. Did I do something wrong? You even refused to call me Sister Sasha anymore."

"Because, because, that..." Isadore was suddenly pressed into her arms. She almost drowned in the sweet body fragrance and fragrant softness. Her face flushed red and she spoke incoherently for a while: "Because you are the Saint Lady... If I, if I want to be the most special person to you, I must keep my faith in you absolutely pure, without, without a single stain..."

...This sounds a bit like a charlatan.

Salares paused for half a second before continuing to comb through the succubus's soft golden hair. "Did you read these things in a prayer book?"

"No, no..." Isadore said softly, her little head becoming confused as she immersed herself in the body fragrance of her long-lost sister Sasha.

Ah, that's it. I want to be the most special person around Sister Sasha, isn't it because... I want to stay by her side and be with her forever?

"Yes... Sister Angeldale told me."

Hearing the name, Sharlene's eyes narrowed.

Volume 3: The Faith Revolution of the Succubus Saint: Chapter 279: Angeldale's Magical Black Tea

night.

"Lady Saint, are you calling me?"

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Sharlene said, "Come in." The door swung open silently, and Angeldale, dressed in a formal gown, appeared at the doorway. Beside her was a maid carrying a tea tray.

In the candlelight, her long brown hair with a red tea color fell softly in front of her towering chest. The girl pursed her lips and smiled softly, her gray eyes buried in a deep smile. She tilted her head slightly, like a dreamy elf in the silent night.

Her eyes moved slightly, and she glanced casually at the next room. That was Isadore's bedroom. The little nun was now sleeping soundly in her bed, and the holy hammer was also sealed in her room.

Salares stood up from the table and gazed calmly at Angeldel, hoping to detect even the slightest sign of hesitation on her face. Unfortunately, there was none. The girl's face was like an unchanging smiling mask, rejecting all outside gazes.

This was the first time the two had met since she had politely "rejected" Angeldale that night.

"Please sit down." Sharlele pointed to the sofa in the room. Angeldel nodded slightly to the maid, who placed the tea tray on the coffee table and left, carefully closing the door.

Angeldel sat on the sofa, her eyes sweeping over the large bed in the room intentionally or unintentionally - many nights were spent together on that bed by Sallelei and Isadore.