Chapter 100: Chain of Purity

Adrian almost sprinted for camp, but he skidded to a stop and ducked back behind the tree, heart in his throat.

’I...I can’t just run. That stupid goblin is somewhere out here.’

He clenched his teeth, sweat prickling his scalp despite the rain. If he bolted and they caught even a glimpse of him, he was a dead man.

’If he knows I saw all this...I’m finished. They’ll hunt me down in my sleep.’

The sheer horror made his knees wobble.

He pressed his back to the tree trunk, trying to slow his ragged breathing.

’That bastard Rae...was the Goblin King this whole time?’

His mind reeled.

All those weeks after the war, when everyone thought the Goblin King was dead or comatose, he’d been right under their noses.

In Alex’s household, no less.

’Geez...one wrong move, and he could’ve snapped me in half like a dry twig...’

He swallowed, feeling bile creep up his throat. He’d always steered as far away from the Goblin King as possible.

The towering menace with the brutal glare and that stupid hammer.

Adrian had been perfectly content to be the guy in the back, flinging support spells and avoiding eye contact.

His gaze crept back to the tent, and he instantly regretted it.

They were...

Still going.

Shagging like tomorrow was canceled. Like it was a contest to see who could break the other first.

Adrian’s eye twitched as he glared at the tent, where the obscene symphony of slaps and moans kept echoing through the rain.

’That bitch...’

He clenched his fists.

’To think she was a slut all along, pretending to be some noble, untouchable and loyal wife. Tch.’

It infuriated him—her putting on airs like she was above everyone, all while letting a goddamn goblin rearrange her guts.

But then again...

’This isn’t just any goblin... It’s the Goblin King.’

A chill crept down his spine at the thought.

Just as quickly, though, his anger gave way to something colder. Sharper.

’Wait...’

He sucked in a slow breath.

’I shouldn’t rush this.’

His first instinct had been to sprint straight to Celeste and shout everything he’d seen—but that was just panic talking.

If he barged in screaming about a goblin orgy, she’d probably slap him into next week.

Or worse, she’d believe him—and then the whole camp would erupt in chaos, ending with him strung up somewhere as bait.

No.

’This...is a golden opportunity.’

A grin crept over his face despite the cold drizzle soaking his hair.

’I should keep this to myself. At least until I figure out how to use it.’

If he played this right, he could turn the whole twisted situation into leverage.

Maybe even finally get something out of that healer bitch.

He took another look at the tent, just long enough to sear every detail into memory, and then turned away, pressing his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

’Yes...that’ll do nicely.’

Even though he was furious that stupid goblin had taken what was rightfully his, Adrian gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride.

If it had been just an ordinary goblin king, he would’ve yeeted the creature’s head clean off without a second thought. But this...

This was the Goblin King they were dealing with.

...

Two days later, inside the cathedral, Maximus and Jonathan strolled side by side along the vaulted corridor.

"Has this "thing" arrived yet?"

The prince asked, his voice echoing faintly off the towering columns.

Jonathan gave a slow, satisfied nod.

"Come on. Why don’t you see it for yourself?"

Maximus let out a booming laugh that made even the nearby acolytes flinch.

"Is it going to be another surprise like last time?"

He still remembered vividly, the last time this old fox had said those words, he’d walked straight into a hall packed with twenty thousand priests.

All arrayed in perfect formation, each radiating enough holy power to scorch a lesser man where he stood.

It had been...impressive, to say the least.

Jonathan only chuckled under his breath and continued walking, offering no hints.

They reached the end of the corridor, where two guards in gleaming gold-plated armor stood sentry.

With a synchronized movement, they pulled open the heavy double doors.

Maximus felt a prickle of anticipation crawl up his spine as he stepped through.

The doors swung shut behind them with a muffled thoom, sealing them in.

"Is that...?"

Maximus’s voice cracked with disbelief as he hurried forward.

Inside the room, a large study table stood at the far end, littered with rows of papers, seals, and other dreary church clutter.

But none of that mattered, because lying right in the center was something that made his heart jump into his throat.

He lunged for it, fingers closing around cold steel as he lifted it up. Chains clinked and rattled, heavy enough to anchor a man twice his size.

"Yep. An S-grade Chain of Purity. A personal gift from the mythical monster hunter Jasper Flintwood himself. He send it as a little...welcoming present for us hosts."

Maximus didn’t answer, too busy drinking in every detail of the artifact.

His hands traced the intricate runes etched along each link, still faintly warm with residual power.

Jonathan’s grin widened, taking an almost childish pride in the prince’s astonishment.

He’d seen Maximus look bored through priceless treasures and famous relics without blinking—but now?

Now the man looked almost reverent.

And for Maximus, it was a rare moment of awe.

He’d never imagined that one day, he’d hold something like this in his own hands.

An S-grade Chain of Purity.

At first glance, it looked disturbingly like a piece of deluxe BDSM equipment.

Silver shackles perfectly sized for wrists and ankles, a gleaming collar sized for a delicate throat, and, to top it off, a small red ball attached to a dangling chain that could gag even the fiercest monster.

If someone had barged into the room right then, they’d have been treated to the sight of the arrogant prince and the pious priest standing solemnly over it.

Like two noble perverts about to debut the world’s most decadent kink show.

"Marvelous."

Maximus breathed, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Made out of pure silver."

Jonathan said, his voice thick with satisfaction.

"For maximum potency against any creature of darkness."

"Enchanted with the old arcane rites to subdue other beings—witches, shifters, elves, humans, you name it."

"Once she’s locked in, she’ll be completely under our mercy. No power on this earth will break these chains."

He chuckled, and there was nothing gentle in the sound.

He was going to do it.

Finally, to cleanse this kingdom, his Lord’s kingdom, of every festering sin. No more watching from the sidelines as the king dragged their land toward ruin.

No more hesitation.

He gazed at the prince, and for a fleeting moment, his expression twisted into something ugly—something raw and venomous that no amount of priestly robes could disguise.

’Soon, my prince, soon you too shall be purged from this holy land.’

Jonathan knew exactly what kind of man Maximus was—unruly, gluttonous, steeped in every depravity this world had to offer.

If there was a sin to be committed, Maximus had likely sampled it twice and left a receipt.

And Jonathan also knew this: the day this war ended, and the prince finally clutched the throne in his filthy hands, he would try to dispose of the one man who had witnessed all his rot.

But Jonathan wasn’t a fool.

’My Lord walks with me.’

’And you will find no blade sharp enough to cut Him away.’

’I will cleanse this world of mutts like you—for Him.’

Just then, Maximus turned to beam at him, face bright with pleasure at their unholy prize.

Jonathan’s face smoothed instantly, like a curtain falling over a stage, and once more he was the benign, holy Father of the Church—serene, trustworthy, sanctified.

"With this, we can cage that ungodly creature, parade her through the streets, dethrone my brother...and of course, save this kingdom."

Maximus declared, the chain rattling like a promise in his grip.

He looked positively radiant with ambition, eyes gleaming the way a butcher’s do when they spot a fattened calf.

"Indeed we will."

Jonathan agreed, voice smooth as poisoned honey.

"When will he come? This man—Jasper Flintwood?"

Maximus asked, unable to hide the hunger in his tone.

"We must ready a hearty welcome for him, shouldn’t we?"

Jonathan’s lips curved into a pious smile that didn’t touch his calculating eyes.

"Of course, my prince. We should. He will be here in about three days. We must prepare accordingly."

Maximus’s grin stretched wider, all teeth and simmering triumph.

"After three days of feasting...we shall start, then..."

Jonathan inclined his head, matching the prince’s fervor measure for measure.

"Yes, we shall start the first holy war against those monsters...and every last sinner who shields them..."

His laughter rose softly, then cracked into something colder, something that made the torches gutter and dance.

"Ha...ha...ha..."

It was a start. Start of something nobody foresaw. Not the heroes, not the civilians, and not certainly our hero.

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