Chapter 402: The Mother Superior
Other than Brigid being visibly uneasy about her grandmother, slipping into the camp had been laughably easy. All it took was the token she carried—her badge as one of the cult’s Abyssal Hands—and the guards practically bowed them in.
The cult had set up their base in an abandoned village, and Cassian couldn’t help but be a little surprised. He’d half-expected chaos, gore, and maniacs foaming at the mouth, but instead... it looked like any well-run military camp. Soldiers followed orders, no one was running around shrieking for blood, and discipline was tight. If not for the banners and the creepy undertones, he could’ve mistaken it for a regular army encampment.
Brigid, however, barely acknowledged anyone. The cultists gave her a few curious looks, but she ignored them as she was directed to report to someone called a Shadow Templar. Dismounting from their undead mount at the camp’s entrance, the two started walking through on foot, Brigid still keeping her head high while Cassian quietly took everything in.
"Brigid of the Abyssal Hands greets the Shadow Templar." Brigid bowed before a mage—a middle-aged man with golden hair and eyes. Tall and lean, he could’ve been mistaken for a Circle Warrior if not for the robes marking him as a mage.
The man only gave a curt nod. "Come. The commander has already been informed of your arrival."
"Yes..." Brigid replied quietly.
They stopped before what had once been the village head’s house—the largest building in the settlement, now repurposed and reinforced with weapons and fortifications by the cult.
Cassian kept his head down, not daring to look around too much—he didn’t want to give the impression he wasn’t under Brigid’s control. She tugged on the rope binding his hands, leading him along, and the Shadow Templar—this striking, golden-eyed man—didn’t so much as question his presence as they entered the cult’s command building.
Truth be told, Cassian wanted nothing less than to follow them inside. The Shadow Templar’s presence alone made his skin prickle; it reminded him of standing before Julius during their spars. That same overwhelming pressure—this man was at least as strong as Julius, maybe more, despite being a mage.
And then there was Brigid’s grandmother. Another cult higher-up, a "Mother Superior." He’d never once heard her name, not in any of the information he’d gathered about the cult. Few of their leaders were publicly known, after all—only the eccentric ones who drew too much attention, like the infamous Artistic Butcher.
This was the first time Cassian had ever heard of a "Mother Superior," and of all the rotten luck—he had to meet her in person. The instant he crossed the threshold of the large house, regret slammed into him. Every cell in his body screamed danger, his domain flaring open on instinct as a suffocating gaze locked onto him.
He glanced up—and froze. Brigid was just as stricken, rooted to the spot, terror etched across her face. That crushing pressure, that killing intent, pressed down on them both until it suddenly vanished, replaced by a voice so sweet and gentle it was almost mocking.
"Oh my, my... precious Brigid. My granddaughter. What a surprise—I didn’t expect to see you here."
"I greet the great Cardinal..." Brigid dropped to one knee in a rush, bowing low.
Cassian, drenched in sweat, couldn’t even move. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, mind reeling. ’What was that?’
The Shadow Templar, meanwhile, stood calmly to the side—untouched by the suffocating weight. Even Brigid’s back was slick with sweat.
"None of the formalities, my precious. Just come and give your grandma a hug..." the gentle voice coaxed.
Cassian finally raised his eyes toward the woman seated in the center of the hall on a plain wooden chair. She spread her arms wide, waiting. Her face was aged, lined softly with wrinkles around the eyes, her pale cheeks sagging slightly with time. Yet she smiled warmly, eyes half-closed, radiating the tenderness of a doting elder. Dressed in pure white robes trimmed with gold around the collar, she looked every bit the image of a kindly nun.
From no angle did she resemble a cult higher-up, let alone the same figure who had, moments earlier, released that bone-chilling, soul-crushing pressure.
Brigid’s lips curved into a smile as she rose and stepped forward. The Shadow Templar gave a short bow before slipping out, leaving the three of them alone in the vast hall.
Brigid leaned into her grandmother’s arms, embracing her. "It’s been a long time..." she whispered.
"Yes, far too long, my dearest," the Superior Mother murmured, pulling Brigid into a tight embrace. The fear that had stiffened Brigid moments ago seemed to soften, her shoulders relaxing as she held her grandmother back.
"I saw your elder brother only a few days ago," the old woman went on in that same gentle tone. "He’s been entrusted with leading our forces in the coming assault against Magisteria City..."
Brigid’s face lit up, her smile breaking wide. "Really?" she blurted.
"Yes," the nun said warmly. "He’s grown strong—he’s earned it. Your parents, and I as well, are proud of him." She reached up, brushing her hand gently over Brigid’s cheek. "And I’m proud of you too, my dear. Escaping a Seventh Circle warrior’s domain isn’t something just anyone could do... even your master wasn’t able manage that."
The glow of excitement dimmed from Brigid’s expression. Her gaze dropped, voice softening. "But Mother and Father must be disappointed, right? I didn’t even manage to kill a single high-priority target. I just... escaped, when I was supposed to stay and finish the job."
The Superior Mother’s smile softened into something sadder as she cupped Brigid’s face with greater tenderness. "Don’t speak like that, my precious Brigid. None of this is your fault. Even if your parents had been in your position, the best they could have managed was escape as well. Your brother is different, though—he recently broke through to the Seventh Circle."
"Really?" Brigid gasped, eyes wide. Cassian froze too—not because her brother had advanced, but because a cultist had.
Seventh Circle warriors were no ordinary existence. To ascend that high, one needed an unshakable principle to hold onto—something rooted in justice, protection, or even neutrality. Darkness, corruption, cruelty... such things could never form the foundation for a true Circle. And in the rare, warped cases where one did manage to advance, they never numbered more than a handful.
That was why the cult’s higher ranks were always dominated by mages, with Circle warriors only filling the lower or mid tiers. For Cassian, this was the first time he’d ever heard of a cultist reaching the Seventh Circle. The thought made his chest tighten. ’How could a wretched organization like this... spawn someone meant to embody the very pinnacle of righteousness?’