Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 248: Chapter 243: The Price of Consecration

A splitting headache.

Fabian awoke on the cold stone floor, a wave of nausea like a vicious hangover surging up his throat.

He propped himself up against the wall, barely managing to stand. The memories of last night were a chaotic mess of fragments.

Frenzy, desire, and... extreme shame.

He looked around his room. The wardrobe had been pushed aside, revealing the ugly dog door behind it.

His heart sank.

He rushed out of the room. The hallway was a mess.

Philip... Elmsworth... No one was acting quite normal, yet everyone pretended they were.

’Especially Connor and him... aren’t they a little... too close?’

He hurried across the courtyard, heading toward the stables where the servants and orphans lived.

The door to the tool shed was open. The children inside were safe, just frightened, huddled together and weeping softly.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but then he remembered something.

The girl named Lina was gone.

Her bed was empty. Fabian stood frozen in place, his blood running cold.

It was obvious he’d been set up. And he didn’t even have to think to know who was behind it: the Baron of Grey Marsh Territory.

Fabian stumbled back to the church and knelt before the Solar Cross Holy Emblem. Clasping his hands, he began to pray with all his might.

He tried to dispel his inner panic with piety, but it was no use.

「Dusk fell.」

Fabian had just finished evening prayers.

All day, he had swung between self-hypnosis and extreme panic.

Order was slowly returning to the church. Everyone was tight-lipped about the previous night’s disgraceful behavior, which allowed a sliver of wishful thinking to take hold in his mind.

’Maybe it’ll all just blow over.’

’Maybe the girl just got scared and ran away on her own.’

Just then, one of the faithful who managed the meals for the quarry walked in.

He also requested that Fabian hear his confession.

The two entered the confessional.

The stonemason coldly informed him of a time and place that evening. Velin wanted to see him to discuss "redemption and purification."

A chill ran through Fabian’s body.

The stonemason finished his "prayer," made the sign of the Solar Cross over his chest, and stood up. He left the church without another word, never once looking at Fabian.

Fabian remained kneeling, all the strength drained from his body.

’I’m finished.’

...

「Midnight, at the abandoned quarry.」

Velin stood atop a massive boulder, looking down at the clearing below.

A figure appeared on the dirt path in the distance.

Fabian.

The collar of his clerical robe was askew, and his hair, soaked with a cold sweat, was plastered to his forehead.

He stumbled forward, his steps uneven.

He saw the silhouette on the rock, shuddered, and stopped in his tracks.

Fear washed over him like a torrent of ice water.

Velin didn’t speak. He just watched.

This silent scrutiny was more stressful than any interrogation.

Fabian’s psychological defenses were already fractured. Velin’s silence was the final weight that would break them.

Fabian finally broke.

His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the gravel with a THUD. The sharp pain in his knees brought a moment of clarity, which was immediately drowned by an even greater panic.

"Lord Baron... I... I have sinned."

His voice was hoarse and trembling.

"I was blinded by wicked thoughts and have defiled the glory of the Lord... I am willing to accept any punishment. I only beg you... do not make my scandal public. The church’s reputation cannot be damaged because of me..."

He lowered his head until his forehead touched the ground, his body curled into a ball.

Velin walked over to Fabian, looking down at the prostrate priest.

’Self-recrimination, fear of exposure, and tying personal sin to collective honor. Classic church thinking.’

But Velin hadn’t come here to pass judgment.

"Father Fabian, get up," Velin said.

Fabian’s body went rigid. He didn’t dare look up.

"I didn’t ask you here to listen to your confession," Velin said, pacing around him. "I just want to ask a few questions. About the ritual through which you obtained your Divine Art."

Fabian froze, then slowly raised his head, his face a mask of confusion.

"To become a priest and receive the power bestowed by the Lord, you must undergo a special consecration ritual, correct?" Velin stopped in front of him and leaned in. "And these ’trials’ of yours, these uncontrollable urges... did they only begin to appear after you gained that power?"

Fabian thought back carefully, and the color instantly drained from his face. "Yes... Yes. After the consecration, the trials... they became more severe."

"How interesting," Velin said, straightening up. "Second question, then. Your colleagues, Deacon Philip and Cleric Elmsworth—they also went through the consecration ritual and gained power. But why are their ’trials’ so different from yours?"

"The Lord... The Lord tests everyone differently..." Fabian’s voice grew weaker. He had never considered the question so deeply himself.

"Is that so? Or could it be that these so-called ’trials’ don’t come from the glorious Lord at all, but from the ’ritual’ that grants you power?"

"What if the ritual itself is flawed? What if the church, in order to mass-produce servants with Divine Arts, has resorted to some... less than holy methods?"

"Blasphemy! You’re slandering the glory of the Lord!" Fabian shot his head up, his eyes Crimson Red. "It’s a demon! A demon is tempting me! What does this have to do with the church?!"

"A demon?" Velin chuckled, seemingly unsurprised by this answer.

"Fabian, have you ever considered that your so-called ’trials’ and ’demons’ are just excuses the church uses to hide the truth? They gave you a poisoned gift, then told you the accompanying toxicity was God’s way of testing you."

"Last night, all I did was use a small potion to detonate the ’poison’ in your body. A mere substance easily shattered your so-called faith and willpower. Do you think a holy trial would be so fragile?"

Fabian shook his head blankly. His entire life’s devotion and suffering began to seem absurd in the face of Velin’s words.

"No... It’s not like that..."

"Your struggle, your pain, your piety... perhaps it was all just a pre-designed play from the very beginning."

Velin pulled a Memory Crystal from his coat. "As for this demon you speak of... is this it?"

He pressed a switch on it.

A light flared, and a three-dimensional image was projected onto the clearing.

Fabian was on his knees, his cheeks flushed and his breathing heavy, handing a leather whip to a terrified boy.

He completely fell apart.

"You now have two choices."

"First, I can hand this Memory Crystal over to Archbishop Augustine. What do you think will happen? Will the church protect you, their ’pious believer’? Or will they brand you a degenerate corrupted by a demon to cover up the secret of their consecration ritual? A grand trial, a pyre. You’ll die, and the church’s secret will remain hidden."

Fabian began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Second," Velin paused. "You cooperate with me. In return, not only will I keep your secret, but I’ll also help you find a way to control this ’power.’ You help me uncover the truth behind the church’s power, and I’ll help you break this curse."

Velin looked at him, delivering his ultimatum.

"Will you be burned at the stake as a martyr for a lie, or will you live as a collaborator in search of the truth? Father Fabian, tell me your choice."

A long silence followed.

Fabian lay prostrate on the ground, his body heaving. After a long while, he squeezed a single word from his throat with all his remaining strength.

"...Cooperation."

Velin nodded, completely unsurprised.

"Good."

"Go back," Velin said, turning and walking away from the quarry. "Act as if nothing happened. Do what you’re supposed to do."

"Wait for my message."

Fabian remained kneeling, watching the back of that figure disappear into the darkness. He didn’t move for a long, long time.

Velin’s mood was calm as he walked back to the Lord’s Mansion.

’A key piece has been put in place.’

He didn’t trust Fabian, so he naturally wouldn’t reveal the truth about "foreign organs" and "biochemical side effects."

Directing all suspicion toward a church conspiracy was a much better way to stimulate Fabian’s will to survive and his willingness to cooperate.

The priest’s faith had already crumbled, replaced by suspicion and fear of the church.

As for Velin, this test had only reinforced his own judgment: the so-called Divine Art was by no means some ethereal power of faith.

It had a physical basis. It could be influenced by drugs. It could be analyzed and exploited.

The secrets the church was hiding were far more interesting than one fallen priest.

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