Ascension from Dual Professions

Chapter 155: Chapter 153: Rosalind: Sorry, I’ve Already Been Molded by Lord Jon

Those blunt words were like the sharpest Ice Cone, instantly piercing through the fervent fantasies of every Eternal Frost Cultist.

The anticipation on Midia’s face froze, replaced by incredulous shock.

”My... My Lady Saintess?! W-Why? Was... was there something we did that was not good enough?”

”Have we been disrespectful to your sacred person? Or has the filth of this mortal world caused you to change your mind?”

”Please, enlighten us! Whatever your command, we will do everything in our power to fulfill it!”

His voice grew shrill, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably.

The other cultists also began to stir, anxious whispers rustling through them like a cold wind over a snowy field.

Rosalind’s gaze fell back upon Midia, and deep within her frozen silver eyes, something seemed to quietly melt.

Then, as everyone watched with bated breath, the corners of her exquisitely beautiful lips curved upward into the faintest, shallowest of smiles.

That smile was like a pure ice lotus suddenly blooming upon a snowfield frozen for millennia. Its beauty was so breathtaking that all who saw it fell into a momentary trance, their very souls seemingly frozen by the chillingly stunning sight.

However, the words she spoke next were more bone-chilling than any arctic wind, slamming into the hearts of every Eternal Frost Cultist like the most vile blasphemy.

”Because... I am not your Saintess—”

She paused for a moment, a soft glimmer flashing in her silver eyes.

”I am Master Jon’s loyal servant.”

”I will go nowhere without my master’s consent.”

”...”

A wave of shock washed over everyone, including the members of the Sun Church and the Golden Maple Leaf Trading House.

’A figure as aloof and stunningly beautiful as Lady Rosalind... was openly calling another person ”Master”?’

’Were they really dreaming?’

Among the Eternal Frost Cultists, after a brief, deathly silence, chaos and fury erupted like a volcano!

”NO—!!!”

”Blasphemy! This is the most vile blasphemy!”

”Our Lord Candela above! This is impossible!!”

”My Lady Saintess... y-you... what are you saying?!”

The humility, terror, and anticipation on Midia’s face peeled away like cheap paint, revealing the twisted visage beneath, warped by his collapsing faith.

”My... My Lady Saintess!”

”What did you say?! You’re not our Saintess?! You... you belong to a mortal?! To a blasphemer named ’Jon’?!”

His murky eyes, shot through with frenzied blood vessels, were fixed deadly on Rosalind.

”Why?! Tell me why?! You are the incarnation of our Lord Candela in the mortal realm! The supreme existence nurtured by the Eternal Frostlands!”

”Besides our Lord, who in this filthy mortal world is worthy of being your master?! Who is qualified to make you bow your head in servitude?!”

He staggered forward abruptly, reaching out to grab Rosalind’s shoulders and demand an answer, but his hands froze in mid-air, halted by her inviolable aura.

And so, he simply stood his ground, trembling all over, his questioning turning into a desperate plea.

”It’s him, isn’t it?! That blasphemer, Jon! He’s forcing you, right?!”

”He’s using Evil Magic to control your noble thoughts and has defiled your pure soul, hasn’t he!”

”Tell me! My Lady Saintess! Tell your loyal servant! If that is the case—”

As he spoke, Midia abruptly straightened his hunched back. An unprecedented, near-frenzied killing intent erupted across his withered face, and his deep blue robes billowed as if stirred by an unseen wind.

”We shall eradicate this abominable blasphemer for you! We will freeze every drop of his blood! We will cast his soul into the Cold Prison from which there is no escape! We will make him pay the eternal price for blaspheming a child of the Deities!!”

His words thoroughly ignited the fires of desperate rage in the hearts of every cultist.

No longer kneeling, they struggled to their feet, a mad fire burning in their eyes. Their roars merged into a wave of sound, filled with venomous hatred and a lust for destruction.

”ERADICATE THE BLASPHEMER! SAVE THE SAINTESS!!”

And yet, faced with this soul-freezing, monstrous malice and the frantic questioning of the cultists on the verge of collapse, the smile on Rosalind’s face didn’t fade. Instead, it deepened ever so slightly.

There was no mockery in her smile, only a calm that bordered on pity.

”Forced? No, it wasn’t like that.”

She lifted her chin slightly, her silver eyes meeting Midia’s nearly fire-breathing gaze, and declared, word by word, with perfect clarity.

”It was I, Rosalind Neivandt Oswald, who willingly chose to offer my loyalty, my Life, and my—soul.”

”The pact I made with my master is a Soul Contract.”

”You are aware, are you not? That is a contract no one can be forced to offer.”

HUMMM—!

”A S-Soul Contract?!”

”Willingly... offered... a Soul Contract?!!”

”NO—!!!”

If Rosalind’s denial of her status as their Saintess was a massive earthquake for the Eternal Frost Cultists, then her declaration of willingly offering a Soul Contract to another was the final, all-consuming tsunami.

It utterly shattered the last shred of hope in the hearts of Midia and the other Eternal Frost Cultists—the fantasy that she was being coerced.

As the sacred icon of their faith came crashing down before their very eyes and their spiritual pillar crumbled to dust, some of the weaker-minded cultists broke down completely. They collapsed to their knees, clutching their heads and letting out beast-like wails of utter despair.

Some began to frantically bash their heads against the ground, staining the snow red with their blood; others tore at their hair and robes, like men possessed.

”It’s a lie! It must be a lie! Our Lady Saintess has been bewitched by some evil spirit!!”

”Oh, my Lord!!!”

An aura of despair, as tangible as a blast of cold air, swept over every Eternal Frost Cultist.

The rage, killing intent, and hope on Midia’s face rapidly dissolved, fading away until all that remained was an ashen despair and stunned disbelief.

He staggered back several steps, his murky eyes churning with agony and confusion.

”W-Why...”

”Why... My Lady Saintess... why... would you... would you debase yourself... like this...”

”To cast aside the glory of our Lord... to forsake Eternity itself... to... to take a mortal... as your master... and even... offer... a Soul Contract?!!”

His questions were filled with the vast emptiness and incomprehensible agony of his shattered faith. It was as if he were asking not only Rosalind, but also the unseen Deities who seemed to have abandoned them.

In this scene, frozen by despair and madness, like a tableau of the apocalypse—

A resolute and domineering voice, brimming with a sense of absolute Power, descended from the sky like the tolling of a great bell. It boomed in everyone’s ears, carrying an undeniable authority as it answered Midia’s question.

”That is, of course, because I gave her everything!”

”Therefore, everything she is, including her body and her soul, belongs to me by right!”