Chapter 71: Liberation from Suffering

Even though Li Nanke had been thoroughly steeped in the myriad artificial beauties of the modern world, she still found herself momentarily dazed at the sight of Colette’s true face.

Her features weren’t the kind of aggressive, striking beauty that demanded attention, but rather an immaculate and pure loveliness, radiating both sanctity and warmth.

No wonder artists would use the visage of the Scarred-Faced Madonna as the template for their icons. If one had to find a face among the teeming multitudes of the world that seemed touched by divinity, anyone who had seen this one would think of her first.

“Who are you, really?”

After a brief moment of stunned silence, Reynaud’s brow furrowed and his hand instinctively moved to his sword hilt, for the woman before him bore a striking resemblance to the statue of the Scarred-Faced Madonna.

Colette gave no answer. She continued chanting her prayer.

As her chant rose again, her gentle features were entirely overtaken by deep crimson and blackened burns. Her once smooth skin turned rough and grotesque, her face unrecognizable.

Blisters of varying size covered her flesh—some already ruptured, exposing raw, crimson tissue, and the unbroken ones bulged taut like tiny hills, threatening to burst and ooze pus at any moment.

From her eye sockets, scalding oil seeped continuously, hissing as it sizzled against her scorched skin and flesh.

Li Nanke felt her throat tighten. She looked away, unable to endure the sight of that monstrous visage. The transformation from beauty and purity to horror and grotesqueness was a shock both to the eyes and the soul.

“I am sorry to reveal my true self to you in this manner. I know I must look frightening.”

“There never was a real Colette. There is only a fragment of soul, severed through the divine grace of Pain. And grace has always been thus.”

“Perhaps mere physical torture was no longer enough to satisfy that great being. When I died, divine grace descended again, severing a part of my soul, forcing me to watch as my own flesh became a monstrous giant, as burning oil ceaselessly scorched my face, over and over, without end.”

“Perhaps that great being has long since understood that suffering born of the soul far surpasses the pain of the body a thousandfold.”

Li Nanke spoke in a low voice, “How can I help you?”

“Only through death.”

Colette stepped out of the wooden hut, pushing open the monastery’s heavy gate. The last rays of the setting sun drew her shadow long across the ground.

“Divine grace cannot be reversed. If it could, then having been brought back by grace, I would also be released through its withdrawal.”

“Now, only with your help can this endless torment be ended.”

“Please, help me. Kill Freesia, and kill Colette as well…”

Reynaud sighed. The Scarred-Faced Madonna and his own sister suffered equally tragic fates, all stemming from the Penitent Order and the grace of Pain.

Dusky sunlight spilled over the monastery garden. Beneath a solitary gravestone lay Freesia’s tomb.

Guided by Colette, they entered a secret passage and descended the stone steps into the depths beneath the monastery.

In the perpetual darkness below, only scattered candles flickered. As they made their way down the steps, anguished howls and roars echoed around them, and the faint sound of sizzling flesh burned by hot oil could be heard.

“I cannot control her. She has become a complete monster, and will attack any living thing she sees with mindless fury.”

“You must be careful…”

Colette was the first to step into the tomb. The crypt built for Freesia by the Order was vast, its arched ceiling soaring overhead.

And still, the immense shadow crouched within could only move on all fours, its back pressed against the dome, crawling like a beast to maneuver.

Their arrival brought the agonized wailing to an abrupt halt.

Reynaud drew his wolf-headed greatsword, and flames burst forth, illuminating the entire crypt and revealing the creature for what it was.

It raised its head slightly. Scalding oil streamed down its hideous face, flesh sizzling, burn scars everywhere.

Its form was that of a twisted giant—still retaining some traces of femininity, but only enough to make its ugliness and horror even more pronounced.

This was the true Scarred-Faced Madonna—Freesia.

Colette’s gaze was full of sorrow as she strode forward.

A thunderous roar—Freesia lunged, her massive body shaking the very crypt, dust raining from the dome.

A giant hand swept across, passing through Colette’s figure without harm.

Likewise, by the grace of Pain, Colette, being but a soul, could not harm the Scarred-Faced Madonna. She could only hope for others to end her suffering.

Reynaud gripped his greatsword tightly, his figure darting forward, charging straight at the monstrous giant!

As the massive hand swept at him, he sprang lightly from the ground, leaping nimbly to evade the deadly blow.

Dodging as he moved, he swung his sword downward in a fierce arc, a surge of fire and flame cascading forth!

A geyser of blood erupted from the monster’s arm, the wound raw and blackened.

In Li Nanke’s hands appeared the “Linear Laser Cannon.”

As the barrel hummed, one by one the green energy indicators lit up, blinding light gathering at the muzzle.

Reynaud weaved around the massive creature with agile steps, as though dancing on a blade’s edge. Any one of the Scarred-Faced Madonna’s attacks landing would be instantly fatal.

And yet, time and again, Reynaud narrowly evaded each strike, leaving wound after wound upon the Madonna’s body.

“Reynaud! Move!”

Li Nanke shouted, releasing the trigger.

The cannon shuddered as immense energy gathered into a beam of destruction, unleashed in an instant!

A piercing, high-pitched shriek split the air—a dazzling beam tore through the darkness, searing a trail of white heat as it struck the Scarred-Faced Madonna’s head.

The monster let out a bone-rattling roar—one enormous eye exploded in a spray of gore.

The laser bored relentlessly into her empty socket, scorching her neural tissue, and she raised her hand to shield her face.

When the blinding light faded, the great hand was nearly pierced through.

Li Nanke retracted the cannon, seized his chainsaw sword, and charged forward.

Fire blazed in Reynaud’s eyes. This time, as the massive hand swept toward him, he did not dodge but instead chanted strange syllables.

In a split second, a torrent of flame erupted—the wolf-headed greatsword transformed into a colossal flaming blade, its burning edge cleaving aside the monstrous attack.

Reynaud stamped down, his figure flashing, suddenly standing atop the monster’s grotesque head.

At the same moment, Li Nanke, taking advantage of Reynaud’s parry, dashed beneath the creature’s head.

He gripped his sword tight, thorned edges biting into flesh, and with a powerful stomp, drove the serrated blade up through the monster’s jaw and into her skull.

Standing atop the monster’s head, Reynaud let out a fierce shout, reversed his grip on the greatsword, and with a burst of fire, plunged the blade from above straight into her skull.

A thunderous crash reverberated—the crypt fell silent, deathly still.

The Scarred-Faced Madonna collapsed with a mighty crash, and in her final moments, the madness in her eyes at last faded into peace and clarity.

Her huge, hideous face was twisted with agony, her breath coming in harsh gasps.

Colette stepped forward and gently caressed the monster’s cheek. “Sleep now, sleep. This time you may rest easy. There will be no more pain.”

As if understanding, the Scarred-Faced Madonna slowly closed her eyes, and was still.

Colette turned back, her beauty restored.

With tears in her eyes, she smiled softly. “Thank you. Now it is my turn.”

Li Nanke closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, then stepped forward, blade flashing cold and bright.

The shattered soul broke apart, the woman’s figure dissolving into myriad points of light.

And faintly, it could be seen—she wore a serene smile of deliverance.