He Will Bring Pain to the World

Of the three mineral-rich territories Anbaixiu had researched earlier, one belonged to the Duke of Flaying, a worshiper of Loviatar, the Goddess of Pain. Among the nearby lords, the title "Duke of Flaying" was exceptionally distinguished. Nor was this ducal title self-proclaimed. It belonged to an ancient lineage passed down for several centuries, though the family had originally lived in a small grand duchy. That realm had possessed a modest population, yet from the rulers down to the commoners, everyone had worshiped the Goddess of Pain. She was an ambitious, aggressively predatory goddess, which made it obvious what kind of culture that nation had fostered. Later, the country was wiped out by Ryan. The Duke of Flaying had fled with their wealth and a handful of family members to the City of Alchemy, bought an estate, and continued to style himself a duke. The City of Alchemy took no issue with this, as it held knowledge above all else. To them, a noble title mattered less than a byline on an academic paper, and nobles held scarcely any privileges. In the City of Alchemy, one would only ever see nobles bowing and prostrating before scholars. As for etiquette and protocol between nobles? Do as you please; the laws of the City of Alchemy wouldn't concern themselves with such matters anyway. Thus, "Duke of Flaying" was merely pleasant to the ear, holding actual sway only within his own lands. Even so, the current Duke of Flaying could be considered someone who bided his time and endured hardships. He had striven hard to adapt to the customs of the City of Alchemy, building a relatively complete alchemy industry within the family. What the Flaying family produced were alchemical potions that pursued extreme pain and extreme pleasure. Sales were not particularly high, but they maintained a solid market among certain niche demographics. Yet just like that, the City of Alchemy was gone, and the region had plunged abruptly into a state of war. On the very day he learned of the City of Alchemy's disappearance, the Duke of Flaying had knelt before the statue of Loviatar and whipped himself hundreds of times, as though flaying his own skin, praying before the idol in a bath of his own blood. That agony had granted him a vision of Loviatar's smile. His wounds healed rapidly, and he even appeared several years younger. The Duke of Flaying understood that this was a divine sign, telling him that the hour had come for House Flaying to rise. Consequently, unlike the other great lords, House Flaying took the initiative from the very start. Under the leadership of the Duke of Flaying's daughter, the Bloody Slave Legion swiftly scored brilliant victories. Years of enduring peace had left the outlying domains of the City of Alchemy utterly devoid of any sense of danger. After all, with a metropolis like the City of Alchemy looming over them, its golem puppets were enough to sweep aside any threat. Why maintain so many soldiers? Had someone money to burn? Minor bandits could be handled by hiring a few adventurers. For major crises, such as the monster wars of the past, the City of Alchemy would naturally step in to settle everything. No one had anticipated that one day, out of nowhere, this mighty realm would collapse. All the lords, great and small, were thrown into disarray; only after regaining their composure did they begin considering how to protect themselves. It was at this juncture that the people of House Flaying arrived with their Bloody Slave Legion. The slaves, controlled by divine magic, possessed boundless strength and had no fear of death. The more severely wounded they were, the more frenzied they became. Wherever these bloodstained beasts passed, virtually no one could stand against them. The suffering wrought by these beasts served as offerings to Loviatar, and in return, the pain-seeking deity bestowed even greater blessings upon House Flaying, even causing a paladin to emerge from their family. Phrased that way, it was perhaps somewhat imprecise, but paladins had never been the exclusive domain of the Lord of the Dawn. As the saying went, even the wicked had their own saviors, and a devout believer who embraced evil was, in the eyes of their peers, another kind of saint. In theory, any deity could bless their followers and create paladins of their own. Someone could even become a paladin without worshiping any god at all, simply by steadfastly upholding a certain oath. Usually, however, champions serving under deities of the evil alignment had a specific designation: antipaladins, also known as unholy paladins. The title did not matter; an antipaladin was every bit as powerful as a paladin and could likewise wield Divine Smite, though depending on the patron deity, the effect of that Divine Smite differed. The Duke of Flaying's daughter, Bellatrix, had been fortunate enough to become an antipaladin. This seemed all the more like destiny, as though House Flaying was truly fated to rise. Yet this smooth sailing did not last long. In just a matter of days, House Flaying suffered a crushing blow. Having ventured out with the Bloody Slave Legion to pillage, the duke's daughter returned home suddenly covered in wounds, collapsing into total unconsciousness before she could utter a single word. This newly blessed antipaladin was grievously injured. Had she not been rushed before the goddess's statue in time and sustained through the sacrifice of numerous slaves, she likely would not have survived. Once recovered, Bellatrix recounted her ordeal to the Duke of Flaying, striking terror even into that bloodthirsty, brutal lord. His daughter had advanced to an antipaladin and led a legion of over a hundred bloody slaves, yet she hadn't even been able to withstand a single spell from her opponent. If this lich came knocking on their door, wouldn't they be utterly powerless to stop him? After brooding in misery for most of the day, the Duke of Flaying could only lash himself once more in hopes of receiving divine revelation. At times, one had to admit that Loviatar was an easy goddess to deal with; sacrificing to her truly required no precious treasures. As long as you could endure the pain and ruthlessly torment yourself, you would naturally obtain her grace. Injuries mattered not. Pain was the source of strength; so long as it didn't kill you, you abused yourself to the limit. Unlike an immaculate, upright deity like the Lord of the Dawn, who required you not only to follow his tenets—to do good, champion justice, and sacrifice yourself for others—but also to renounce many selfish desires and continuously study and cultivate yourself in literature and the arts before you could possibly become a paladin. By comparison, devotion to the Goddess Loviatar offered astonishing value for the effort. After whipping himself raw and breaking his own arms and legs, the Duke of Flaying actually did receive another divine sign from Loviatar. Yet this oracle left the Duke of Flaying dumbfounded. He could scarcely believe his own ears and eyes. For the goddess's message was: "Follow him. He will bring pain to this world." Terrified that he had misheard, the Duke of Flaying hurriedly brought the recovered Bellatrix before the idol, hoping this divinely favored antipaladin could help him confirm it. The final result remained identical: the goddess's sign indicated that following this lich would bring even more pain into the world. Of course, this was not a mandatory divine command; it was more like a prophecy. The goddess had already revealed what the future held; whether you believed it was up to you. If the Duke of Flaying refused to accept it and insisted on fighting this lich, Loviatar would be just as delighted to watch. Whether it was her own believers or anyone else, as long as someone in this world suffered, it made no difference to her. Drenched in blood, the Duke of Flaying stood before the statue and asked his daughter, "Bellatrix, what do you think?" By this point, Bellatrix had removed her thorny heavy armor, wearing only a plain white gown. She ought to have been a breathtaking noble lady, yet the exposed skin across her body was dense with scars, rendering her original features utterly unrecognizable. Hearing her father's question, Bellatrix frowned deeply as well. She had just sworn an oath to make that lich taste a hundredfold the agony she had suffered, yet before she could even begin her revenge, she was supposed to defect to his side? This was a dilemma unique to followers of the evil alignment. Had it been a paladin of the Ryan Empire hearing the Lord of the Dawn tell them to submit to a lich, they would have started packing their bags that very day to relocate. Bellatrix considered herself a devout believer; otherwise, she wouldn't have reduced herself to such a wretched state. Yet embracing the true essence of pain did not mean she lacked greater ambition. The goddess's oracle did not seem entirely definitive, either. Was there still room for choice? "Father, perhaps we need not make our decision right now. Since the goddess said he will bring pain to the world, let us wait a while. These are chaotic times of widespread fighting; he might not seek us out immediately. We shall also suspend our revenge for now and expand our territory according to our original plan. If he truly comes knocking and we have no means to resist, submitting to him then will still be in time." Bellatrix's suggestion was not mere passive resignation. The goddess's sign was vague: it said the lich could bring pain to the world, but who knew what form that pain would take? What if the way this lich caused pain was through sacrificing himself? The Duke of Flaying also considered this a safer approach. At worst, they could just surrender when the lich attacked their doorstep; nothing in Loviatar's doctrine forbade yielding. On the contrary, Loviatar thoroughly endorsed the strong bullying the weak; submitting to the strong and becoming a stepping stone for the mighty were deeds fully aligned with her dogma. "Very well. We'll proceed with our previous plan for now. How has your body recovered?" the Duke of Flaying asked his daughter. Bellatrix clenched her fist, then replied, "It is nearly done. I can march out once more." Loviatar's blessing granted Bellatrix extraordinary regenerative capabilities. Combined with the effects of alchemical potions and healing spells, her injuries had fully healed, and she was ready to unleash the power of an antipaladin at any moment. The Duke of Flaying said hurriedly, "Good. Then let us not delay. With every passing day, the map of this land undergoes violent shifts. We must expand as quickly as possible and capture more slaves." House Flaying possessed mind-controlling spells that could transform people into frenzied bloody slaves within a short time. Snowballing was thus their most optimal approach; continuous raiding and continuous conquest were the most efficient path for them. Bellatrix nodded. Just as she was about to put on her thorny heavy armor, she saw a servant rushing over to report. "My Lord Duke, the mining area has come under attack! The soldiers guarding the mine have been routed!" Bellatrix flashed a sinister smile, her tone cruel. "Splendid. I just happen to need someone to vent my fury upon. Whoever it is, I will flay the flesh from their bones and offer it to the Goddess of Pain."