When Maria drank her own blood, forcefully awakening the Cainhurst Bloodline’s power and confronting the childhood trauma carved into this body’s soul, Mr. Green convulsed in the basement as if stricken by epilepsy!
His body jerked and writhed, rolling across the floor.
The vagrant’s filthy rags became even more soiled and rancid, while the grotesque altar of slick, piled-up human flesh extended its limbs, as if trying to drag Green into itself to make him part of its foundation. The Chaos worshipper nearly had his mind explode.
He felt the surging, overwhelming favor pouring upon his kindred!
Like the difference between the moon and a firefly.
The scraps of attention he received were utterly shabby compared to hers. In that instant, jealousy and hatred swallowed Green’s heart, and the blessing bestowed upon him by the Beyond stirred restlessly. The frenzy and pain nearly tore his body into nothing but pulp.
“Merciful Father… Merciful Father!”
His shrill, senseless cries carried only confusion and madness.
In this age when the First Flame had not yet gone out, and the Sun Gods strained desperately to keep Chaos at bay, it was difficult for the Four Ruinous Powers to directly affect the material world through the Warp. Yet, for them, time and space were never obstacles.
That fact was exactly what tormented Green, perhaps one of the very first Chaos worshippers of the [Fractured].
In Sun Era 998, during the Harvest Festival, the First Flame suffered a mysterious blow, nearly extinguished in an instant. The hearts of the Sun Gods pounded with dread. And when the sweet morsel at last showed a crack, the Ruinous Powers slipped a fragment of their will into it.
They thought that, in the future, this morsel might taste even sweeter.
Even the faintest thought of a Chaos God, tainted with Warp energy, was unbearable to mortals. Though the First Flame had scorched it with all its might, ordinary men who touched that power were fated to collapse before its godlike grandeur.
Green was one such mortal—whether fortunate or cursed.
Upon contact, he instantly fell, becoming a Chaos worshipper. Learning that the world would one day be harvested by the great ones from Beyond, plucked like a ripe apple, he wandered the continent as an evangelist, seeking chances to spread his Father’s glory.
He became a vagabond.
During his wandering, he passed through Seth Town. His pitiful appearance and frequent seizures won him the pity of Pastor Lynn, who gave him shelter in a humble cabin.
Green marveled at the pastor’s kindness. He marked him, planning to return later when the Father’s power grew stronger to repay the favor. He even soothed the illness afflicting the pastor’s beautiful wife—though the remedy caused her some pain at first.
But an accident disrupted his plans.
When he saw Pastor Lynn’s eldest daughter Maria return through the rain of Seth Town, Green trembled. He had never felt such pure, radiant favor gathered upon a single soul. The hymns of devotion sung for her told of divine grace.
She was like a noble princess, while he was nothing but a beggar.
Thus, Green abandoned his long, patient scheme. That path was too slow—slow enough that his Father’s gaze might leave him. Instead, he would sow the Father’s power early, guide Pastor Lynn into his worship, and turn the couple into his Father’s warriors. Then he would seize Maria, that beloved child, and offer her as a sacrifice to the Merciful Father!
His plan nearly succeeded.
Before the corrupted abomination of Pastor Lynn, Maria was nearly crippled in an instant. It was only because her father was the attacker, and because the Black Nun herself was weakened, that she barely survived. Then came flight, then sudden ascension, as her pure bloodcraft erupted!
Green, ready for sacrifice, collapsed onto the ground gasping like a dog.
But that was only the beginning.
Blood is the currency of the soul, and the source of bloodcraft.
The nobles of Cainhurst honor blood as the highest offering, for in it echo the whispers of higher beings. They share in this privilege, gaining powers unlike magic, miracles, or sorcery. And in Lady Maria, the pureblood heiress, bloodcraft reached its finest expression.
After swallowing a mouthful of potent blood, Maria’s ten fingernails extended an inch, transforming into translucent crimson talons.
The veins of roses and Cainhurst sigils etched themselves into the gleaming red, like divine rubies set into the hands of a goddess by the finest jeweler.
At this moment, her blood-drinking stance alone was enough to force those around her into a saving throw against her bewitching presence.
Boom!!
But the world is never short of creatures who cannot appreciate beauty.
A Chaos-corrupted monster smashed through the door, its throat bulging with a fleshy tumor that tore open to reveal a fanged maw. From it lashed a tongue-like tendril, tipped with a warped eye that stared hungrily at the Black Nun, its malice enough to chill the marrow.
In the instant it locked onto Maria, the same aberrant tendril that had wounded her before pierced through the wall, shrieking toward her as if the wood were paper.
This time, it was not so lucky.
Maria’s eyes flared crimson, like bottomless seas of blood, radiant as blood-jade. The allure of danger sharpened her gaze.
Licking her lips, Lady Maria made a casual gesture.
She raised a single finger.
With her blood-forged nail, sharper than steel, she stabbed into the tendril’s hide. Her crimson talon sliced through the Chaos-corrupted flesh as effortlessly as a knife through butter.
Using its reckless momentum against it, Maria deftly split the tendril wide open!
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