As he exited the large building, he heard a loud collision from behind it.

Using [Quickstep], he quietly made his way towards the sound, and saw that it came from a small shed which was a short way behind the building. This was outside Kruxol, and was not a safe zone.

Nearing it, he heard a female weeping loudly, and could make out some of the words she whimpered.

"I don't want to be here... Why did I come? I know marriage is a sacrifice, but... I just wanted to be free! Now he won't even allow me to preach any more, nobody will recognise me..."

It was Marie-Clare, and retained her distinctive, if slightly out-of-place, chirpy tone and uptalk. However, it was much less stable and articulated than when she had spoken with Massie present.

She didn't seem to know that Massie was dead yet, but, if she saw Crucis escaping, then she might raise the alarm or at least report the sighting once she found out about the death.

He walked towards the shed, pulling on a black ski mask to hide his identity, as she continued to weep to herself.

Her familiar username was faintly visible now, [Theklau].

"Why did you do it, Mary? You should have stayed away from here... got it? Far away! Even if you became famous, was it worth it? I want to stay, but I want to go... Should I stay or should I go?"

Rounding the shed in search for the entrance, he stumbled over a fallen branch that he had missed in the dark night. He heard Marie-Clare sitting up in an alert position, as she realised someone was near, and he rushed towards the entrance to cut her off if she attempted to escape.

Her pleading voice limped out of the shed, in the direction she had heard him in. "Who is it? Massie? It must be you! Please don't beat me this time, please... Not on the night before marriage! I've been good, I'm just looking for what you want... Please."

There was a spurt of noise from inside the `building, and Crucis guessed that she was hiding inside rather than trying to leave. He supposed that, if it was Massie, he wouldn't take kindly to her trying to run away.

Before opening the door, he made sure that nobody else was nearby. There had been a couple of players guarding this area when he had first arrived at the Prayer Hallway, but they had seemingly wandered off. It wasn't that surprising, since asking players to spend hours standing in place for a pittance would typically lead to indiscipline. The coast was clear for now.

Inside the shed, there were a few cupboards and shelves laying haphazardly around the sides, along with a mass of religious paraphernalia and agricultural tools scattered around. However, there was no sign of Marie-Clare.

She must be hiding somewhere here.

Walking in, he loudly threw open a cupboard to his right, hoping that the noise would cause her to reveal herself due to fear or nerves.

When nothing happened, he kicked away a table that was leaning on its side against the right wall. She wasn't behind it.

However, he heard someone shivering wildly inside a cabinet on the left side of the room, as she heard the violent sound of the search.

He closed the shed door, then walked towards this cabinet and crouched beside it.

As it opened, he saw her crumpled in a corner, staring into the wall despairingly. Her face was bowed near the ground, with long, straight hair splayed around it, and her upper legs rose awkwardly up behind her like a rabbit. He grabbed her by the back of her collar, and wrenched her back.

"Why do you always hurt me? You have to let me go, or I'll go back to my friends... I won't marry you!"

Did she still think that he was Massie?

He raised a dagger to her throat, and the silver crucifix on its hilt shone wanly in the faint moonlight.

"Fine, I take that back! I'll... whatever, just don't hurt me!" she cried.

He kept her steady with a mild [Chokehold]. He could see that her black shirt had been drenched by tears, and it almost stuck to his.

Summoning some effort, she wrenched her head back, and saw his eyes calmly look back from behind his black mask.

"Wait... Who are you?" she said. "I can't see in this light. You're not Massie? You don't feel like him."

"I'd hope not," he said gruffly.

"OK... Do you hate me? Or only him? If this is about him, then I swear I'll leave his cult if you want me to. I'll go back and join the Temperants... if you want. Or another rival religious group, if that's why you're here..."

Crucis relaxed his grip slightly, to give the impression that he wasn't committed to killing her.

"I was sent here to harm Massie, not you. But I can't trust you. Why did you leave the Temperants? I doubt you could have taken his preaching seriously, right?"

"Well, I had this dream... corny way to start, I know. Um. So I was in this amazing, jade palace, everything was glowing green, light was so bright I could barely see. Somehow I knew it was Heaven, and I was an angel. I was sent to a verandah, preaching to the world like, um, from a mountain, the usual kind of thing I preached here, but they all heard me and prayed and looked up. Like, they really listened to me, not just because I'm a girl. Then I saw Massie preaching, and it was so impressive, he even had some lights show going on, and I thought it was just like the dream. Yeah, I know, it's childish, but I haven't seen my family for days, no-one I knew was here... So I ran away to join Massie. I didn't even care what he believed. And then the dreams got more intense, and it felt good... but... sometimes I wanted to leave again."

Crucis felt her relax and lean back slightly, as she realised that he was listening to her and not making any efforts to attack. Her shivering legs tucked faintly against his knees.

"So you abandoned your beliefs and freedom, for worldly glory? Well, perhaps you can repent of it."

"I... Yeah, I guess you're right. And hey, with this Temperant talk, you sound a bit like I did then. Please forgive me, I knew not what I did."

She seemed oddly comfortable with talking in this situation, perhaps because she was used to Massie restraining or beating her while censuring her about religion.

Crucis waited a few seconds before replying. The night was quiet, except for the sound of Marie-Clare breathing heavily.

"Perhaps your sins will be forgiven."

"How? I haven't even donated anything, I haven't done anything to deserve it! Massie always said he'd kick me out for disobeying, why don't you just tell me I'm a failure? Tell me right to my face."

"No-one's deserving. It is a matter of grace. But it looks like you invested a lot of belief in Massie. Still, Massie has stirred people up to war, didn't you think he was going crazy with his talk about 'demons'?"

"Yeah! Of course he was. Still, it felt, um, heroic, I guess? Like, he was fighting against the forces of the devil himself. Not every guy does that. Honestly, when he talked like that, it was exciting, I kind of wanted to... nevermind. But look, I can change, right? Don't you think that would be a coup, having Massie's 'wife' in a rival group? I'd love to see his reaction."

This girl seemed like a possible concern. If he hadn't found her, she would have probably taken a large role in keeping Massie's belligerent teachings alive, due to her ambitions. Even if she went to another group, not much stopped her from leaving again, and from the sound of it she was still excited by the spectacle of Massie's preaching. Judging from the conversation in the building, she was also something of an eager grifter, and would probably find some way to try and get back into prominence due to that. He doubted that she could change, even if she wanted to, and she would become a thorn in the side whatever happened.

Probingly, he said, "Yeah, it would. But, if you joined, could you truly renounce things that Massie is infamous for preaching, like war and indulgences?"

Her knees shuffled uncertainly, dragging her jeans subtly hissing along the ground. "Um, yeah, of course. I mean, I was never involved in the donations." This was a lie.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Somewhat guiltily, she added, "But I can see what you mean, even I wouldn't trust me. I understand why my friends, I mean, the 'Temperants,' opposed them and denounced them as 'worldly.' But I don't really have the confidence to speak in public like that right now, if Massie said it was important I just gave in. I can't go toe-to-toe with him now, he'd guilt-trip me about the, um, my 'demons'... Anything but that. Could you please, um, hold me away from something like that?"

"I will. It's alright, your time with Massie is in your past now, but -"

"Yeah, well, how can I be sure? I know you hate me, you're even trying to choke me to death," she said, appearing quite calm despite her words. She shot a half-hearted, accusative glare.

"Do you think so?"

"No. Your grip is loose, it's too gentle to kill me. I know that you don't hate me." She giggled. "Hm. That's kind of comfy, in this dingy shack."

She relaxed slightly, and calmly stretched out her long left leg to the side. The lines of tear-stains across the top of her blue jeans looked like dark rivers in the moonlight.

"You sound almost disappointed."

"I don't know how I feel these days," she said apologetically. "Sometimes I want pleasure, sometimes I want pain, y'know?"

"I understand that."

Bringing her leg back into a kneeling position, she cleared her throat before nervously rambling. "So don't think I mean - that I'll just give up, and I can't preach against war, indulgences, or anything. I just forgot if there was another way. I thought - well, I can't escape from sin, or 'leave the world behind' like the Temperants say, so what I need is a sign of faith to show here. My own. Don't we all need that? I mean, war, marriage, they would have been SO terrible, but I thought that was where I was, where I had to show my faith. But maybe I'm just selfish. Maybe you guys can show me. I'll do or say anything, OK? OK."

"You'd be a puppet on a string?"

"That's how you treat me."

"Admittedly. But I'd hope that not everyone treats you like me."

"I doubt they would. Honestly, I barely want to think about them right now. But they probably didn't hate me as much as you." She glared mock-accusatorily backwards, and quietly shuffled her legs to envelope Crucis' knees as she half-kneeled-half-reclined over the ground. "Well, maybe you don't. Look, can we discuss going back later? I need to relax for now. Hearing you question my virtue, it just hurts."

"I didn't mean to. Is your virtue so easy to throw into question?"

"Do you think so?" She raised a finger to her bottom lip in a brief playful, ingénue-like expression of uncertainty, but then shook her head. "Yeah, it doesn't exist. Fine, let's talk about going back to the Temperants. You'd get sick of me if you had to stay here by me."

"No, we don't have to talk about that now... Let's try something else. You said that Massie knew about your 'demons,' what did you mean? You almost crumpled, like a rag, when you said it."

She whimpered quietly before replying.

"Oh, that... that. Yeah. It's why I need to fight. I mean, when Massie talks about demons, it reminds me of something. It always feels like, even if I'm awake, there's some evil hag or demon holding me down. I can see everything around me, and walk around, but it's always there, glaring at me and dragging me down like, I don't know, super-gravity. I don't know why it hates me. I could go anywhere, but it would follow me there and sabotage me. I don't know how I can appease it."

Glassy tears spiralled freely through her hair.

"So you'd rather be pulled up?" Crucis said, kneeling up and pulling her lightly upwards.

"Yeah," she giggled, "I guess you're not a demon, then."

"Perhaps. Anyway, your experience sounds a lot like a waking dream... but it lasts through every day?"

"Yeah, I guess I can't tell my life apart from dreams sometimes, huh."

"Heh, at least you realise. Maybe you were drawn to the Temperants because they also see demons everywhere?" He paused. "Why can't you let the demons go?"

"Um, yeah. About that. I know I make the demon sound like an enemy, but... it's right, isn't it? I'm worthless, nobody really cares about me, I'm stupid, I can't do anything well. Maybe it's right, I just need to give up and listen to it... take everything in my soul, and sell it away. I just need to give up! Then maybe... I won't be a hated devil..."

"Okay," he whispered.

His blade easily cut through her fragile, unresisting neck, and he grasped her head as it fell off. Even her once-bright hair was soaked in tears and sweat.

Grabbing a nearby small, sturdy crucifix which was supported by a horizontal beam, he laid this on the ground, then used it to support her head as he leaned it against the wall, facing the entrance to the building. It might make a more striking impression on whoever found it, and perhaps suggest that something supernatural or uncanny was in effect. After all, given the manner of Massie's death, his enemies would likely come up with supernatural explanations, not without justification. Some razzamatazz would help ease this speculation along.

He got up, and dusted himself off. The rest of her body slouched quietly to the ground beside the head.

She had dropped a surprising amount of expensive clothes, which suggests that Massie was funneling some of the onyx coins from donations into purchases for himself and her. While he could sell most of these clothes, since they were for females, there were a couple of large 'robe' items that covered most of the upper body and face like a niqab, and those might be worth keeping around as a disguise.

She had also dropped the Bible which she had been hiding from Massie, and Crucis drew it briefly from his inventory because he had been curious about it. It seemed to be a normal Bible, mostly, although the pages where the Songs of Solomon and Book of Revelation had been written were replaced by glossy black pages with white text. He could read this later in better light, to see if the text on this was different from a regular Bible.

DigdugMan had recently sent a message saying that there would be about fifteen minutes before LuegoLuego would be ready for the fight, since LuegoLuego had been trying to organise a small protest against DeathGang but was disrupted when a glut of flamboyant dancers appeared in the meeting place. This meant that Crucis would still have some time to burn, so he looked through some more of the odds and ends she had deposited in his inventory.

This included an [Avalanche Rock], a rock from an ancient avalanche, which had a chance of summoning a statue if used in player housing or a Guild building. This statue could give a few different buffs. There was no use for the stone at the moment, but it would probably be worth using in the future.

Marie-Clare had also dropped a thin, emerald-green-covered notebook, which had one page of writing on it in her large, cursive text. However, someone had seemingly torn up the page, and only a few words and phrases still remained, spread across the page. These included 'times,' 'bitter words,' 'hour,' 'trod,' 'gold,' 'sufferers,' and 'prison.' It seemed to be notes prepared for a sermon.

He quickly scrawled a poem into the blank spaces between the words, on the page which was exposed beneath, then left the notebook carefully next to her corpse.

Ofttimes I upbraid with bitter words the hour

When I was wooed, and now am wed to woe:

"Had I my choice," I sobbed, "I'd ne'er have trod

The path my feet now tread, for all its gold.

I would have chosen as I have done in vain

To roam, a sad, unpitied, unprofaned thing,

Alone, with other sufferers, in the rain."

But, Passion, we must not weep in this unholy strain;

There is no help for us but in passion again.

I will return to your prison; let me feel

The fetters clank upon me, and my pain renew.

Above it, he had also scrawled the title 'Losing My Religion,' next to her name. In a bottom corner beneath the poem, he wrote, '(The story of her return to the Temperants.)' He laid the note beside her body, in the corner of the room.

When she was found, the superstitious would probably make up all sorts of theories about what happened.

Finally, she had also dropped another item calld [The Count's Letter]. It looked like an empty sheet of paper, but he wondered if it might work like the pages of prophecy, and only display its words at a specific time. It might be related somehow to the invitation he had received to the Dracula-esque Count's castle. He should check on it if he went there. He made this connection quickly, since her story had reminded him faintly of the automaton Ibis' Dracula poem. 'He is the leper, the one with a demon sealed in him.'

Before leaving, he changed into his familiar Assassin's costume, so that people who saw him in the Prayer Hallway wouldn't recognise him.

He saw a few Temperants walking out of the Prayer Hallway, probably having been expelled from it. He waited for them to leave, then ran out onto the outskirts of Kruxol. There weren't many people wandering around here at this time, due to the DeathGang procession crowding the streets of Kruxol. As such, he easily flitted unseen around the circumference of Kruxol, using the trees around the Northern end as cover.

Soon, having made some distance from the scene of the crime, he ducked in through an alley to join the loud DeathGang procession.

At first, the procession just looked like a sudden wall of light, with a phalanx of lit torches held in the air. Crucis had grown accustomed to the cold night air, and felt a soft, but sharp, burning sensation flaring across his skin as he approached the heat of the torches.

The players in front of the procession held a large, open coffin in the air, with its door occasionally swaying from side to side in the wind.

Crucis quickly sent a message to DicingDevil, to alert him to the arrival.

Crucis: massie + waif dead

Crucis: i'm here, alley next to green statue, sw kruxol

DicingDevil: nice

DicingDevil: sec, come on over

DicingDevil: want a torch?

Crucis: not yet, gtg in 10m

Crucis: more malcontents

Crucis: but will join in for now

DicingDevil: got it

DicingDevil: come on, it will wipe redname

Crucis: kk

He saw Akshel and Dionarcy shuffle slightly to create some space on the right side of the procession, and he slotted in there, joining in on a burgeoning football-hooligan-esque chant of, "We are the champions," that Danemy had started. On entering the procession as a recognised war participant, his red name reverted to normal, a feature enabled so that even if wars took place in the evening a proper celebration could be held right after.

"I hate that song, honestly," Akshel sighed light-heartedly, after the chant ended. "Heard it too much."

"It's alright, we just butchered it worse than our enemies this morning," Crucis said. "I bet Farrokh's rolling in his grave."

"That would be good. Careful with the butchering, by the way, your hands are still stained red."

"Hey, nice to see again," the ponytailed General OudNasser said from behind them. "Well done this morning, all of you."

"You're welcome," Crucis replied. "By the way, does anyone feel like troubling the GildedKnights a bit?"

"Count me in," Akshel said.

"Have had nothing to do in this evening, so yes, good idea," OudNasser added.

They called a few more DeathGang members to join them.

"Alright. I'll show you where I'm heading, keep an eye on it. Some GildedKnights will go into this building, and enter a secret place at the back. Once they're in, you can all lurk by the door, and I'll open it from the inside so you can enter."

"Got it," Akshel said.

Eventually, they passed a small cottage which DigdugMan had mentioned as the site of the upcoming duel, and Crucis slipped out towards it.