The Miraculous Treasure Hunting System-Chapter 154. The Sword of Mercy

Andre turned to face the crowd, gave a nod, took a deep breath, and placed his hands upon the iron gate.

He closed his eyes, and a faint, holy light emanated from his palms, imprinting itself onto the metal. The light flowed slowly along the gate’s intricate patterns, gradually outlining the statues on either side.

The statue of the girl holding a sword swung it down. The old woman carrying a lantern raised it slightly, the lantern shimmering with a faint, golden light. Under the flowing radiance, the two statues shifted almost imperceptibly.

Andre opened his eyes, braced himself, and pushed. With a heavy groan, a crack appeared in the center of the tightly sealed gate, which then slowly swung open to either side.

A vast expanse of darkness was revealed, and a cold wind carrying a musty smell drifted out.

"Wait. This wind..."

Ed felt a familiar chill the moment the air touched him and turned to look at Gami and Jason behind him. Both gave an involuntary nod.

Andre glanced at Ed. "What’s wrong? Is there something about this wind?"

"When we recovered the Wheat Crown, the priest who turned into a vengeful spirit gave off this same kind of cold," Ed explained.

Although the Dark Region was perpetually shrouded in darkness, the feeling there was merely cool, not this biting, wintry chill. The difference was stark.

Hearing Ed’s words, Andre nodded grimly, and everyone understood the implication. Methods for confronting the undead came to the forefront of their minds.

Golden patterns on Andre’s brass knuckles began to glow, as did the inscriptions on Elena’s bandages. Jason’s Wheat Crown emitted a soft, golden halo that settled around everyone’s feet.

The Wheat Crown can do that? Ed didn’t understand, perhaps it was Jason’s own ability, amplified by the sacred wreath.

The magic lantern Ed had found earlier now floated ahead under his control. Mirrors, conjured and angled by Ed, appeared around it, reflecting and concentrating the light to conserve his magic and improve their visibility.

Following Andre, they slowly entered.

Directly ahead lay a wide passage. The carpet that had once been laid was now blackened and tattered, its original color lost to time. As their light advanced, long benches of wood and stone became visible on either side, intricately carved with symbols of the Holy Mother. Now, however, they were overgrown with weeds, and some of the wood was rotten and foul.

Ed surveyed their surroundings as they moved. No spiderwebs. No insects. It was exactly like the small chapel they had explored before.

Logically, a sealed building like this should be teeming with cobwebs and creeping things. Yet, aside from the slow decay of decor and furniture, the place was relatively clean, as if maintained daily.

The group proceeded cautiously along the wide corridor to the chapel’s innermost chamber.

Another statue of the Holy Mother stood before them, smaller than those outside but far more detailed, radiating a palpable sense of sanctity.

The area around its base was covered with real ears of wheat, though they looked lifeless and withered at first glance.

"How can wheat survive in an environment like this?" Ed couldn’t help but ask, staring at the golden stalks. It was counterintuitive, unnatural. Even if the wheat appeared dry, this place had been sealed for four hundred years.

Andre studied the wheat, then glanced back down the corridor they had traversed. He, too, had noticed the strange state of the church’s interior. "Be careful," He said, frowning. "Something is alive here, maintaining this place."

The strongest evidence was the wheat itself.

"These ears survive and grow because faith is still offered in this church. The wheat beneath every statue of the Holy Mother is a manifestation of the people’s devotion," Andre explained, mostly for Ed and Jason.

Jason had joined the church later in life, and while Ed was from an island with deep ties to the Holy Mother/Stone Mother, his understanding was mostly superficial.

"Ed, it’s dangerous. Something is watching us." Lucilia’s voice whispered in his ear.

On hearing this, Ed turned his head, scanning the shadows vigilantly.

Just then, Andre spoke again: "Be careful. I sense an unknown gaze."

Everyone heightened their alertness. Ed had already raised his gun. The lenses around the lantern, under his control, cast light in every direction, carefully probing their surroundings. Yet they saw nothing out of place.

Despite his warning, Andre only paused briefly, his eyes searching the gloom, before gesturing for the group to continue.

They followed him to a side door, passed through a narrow passage, and entered the space behind the main hall.

"We’re heading to the Hall of Growth. The sacred artifacts should be there," Andre said, his expression deadly serious.

In a church of this size, the front prayer hall was merely the basic public facility. Behind it lay countless rooms for the clergy, for rest and other purposes.

As they passed the confessional, the unseen gaze remained fixed upon them, unwavering. Only Andre, with his heightened senses, and Lucilia, in her spirit form, could feel it clearly. Still, no attack came.

Remaining vigilant, the group finally arrived at the Hall of Growth at the rear.

From Ed’s understanding, every major cathedral had such a hall, a place for baptizing newborns and praying for blessings.

Inside, the illuminated area revealed walls covered in murals and sculptures, depicting various stories. One wall likely chronicled the cathedral’s own construction.

Ed’s eyes were drawn to a blue outline in the distance. Upon entering, Andre’s gaze immediately snapped to the same spot. Ed focused the light into a beam, illuminating it.

It was a cylindrical stone pedestal, remarkably well-preserved, showing no damage or wear from time. The gold trim and sculptural details were flawless, as if new.

Upon it rested a straight sword, its properties unknown. The blade and hilt were a uniform silver.

The grip featured a spiral pattern, and the guard was shaped like upward-curving ears of wheat. The blade was slender, a double-edged one-handed sword that felt more like a rapier than a broadsword.

A blue outline surrounded it, visible only to Ed.

This was undoubtedly their target: the Sword of Mercy.

A cold wind howled, and a biting chill suddenly filled the hall, enveloping them all. A familiar sensation washed over the group. Ed knew the entity that had been watching them was about to appear.

"Leave this place, you defilers!" A hoarse, chilling voice rang out. A ghostly green figure materialized not far ahead, blocking the path to the stone altar.

This vengeful spirit was different from any they had encountered before. It took the form of an old man with a white beard reaching his chest.

He wore a crown of metallic wheat ears, denoting his high status, and a long, cone-shaped cloak. The colors of his garments were indistinguishable in his spectral form. In one hand, he held a scepter as tall as himself.

This was a Regional Archbishop of the Church of the Holy Mother, or so Elena whispered into Ed’s ear.

Andre studied the spirit’s form and attempted to communicate. "We are not defilers. We are members of the Church, here to reclaim the sacred artifacts."

The spirit only stared, its mouth opening again to repeat, "Leave this place, or you will suffer holy punishment!"

"Leave!" "Get out!" "Do not defile this sanctum!" Voices echoed, one after another.

More spirits appeared around them, materializing from the shadows. The group instantly formed a circle, standing back-to-back, weapons ready. There wasn’t just one spirit, but a whole congregation. Had every soul attached to this church turned into a vengeful spirit?

There were priests in robes, their forms varying. The more intact ones were still recognizable—priests not much different from ordinary ghosts, if a little ragged. Others were exactly like the mutated spirit Ed’s group had faced on the previous island: limbs distorted, capable only of hoarse, mindless roars.

Among them were knights in full heavy armor, holding massive two-handed greatswords, standing guard with solemn, rigid posture.

Andre looked at the array of spirits, their faces mostly devoid of conscious thought, and sighed. It seemed there was only one way to reclaim the Sword of Mercy now: show no mercy to these lost souls.

He slowly clenched his fists. The golden stripes on his knuckles began to emit a faint, steady glow. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice low and firm. "Let us return these followers of the Holy Mother to the Soul Realm." 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

The moment he finished speaking, he shot forward like a cannonball with a thunderous bang, crashing straight into the archbishop before him.

Seeing Andre move, the rest of the team sprang into action. The spirits let out terrifying shrieks, and thick, eerie green mist—tinged with streaks of red—billowed from their forms.

The sudden cacophony of screams jolted Ed, the piercing sound carrying a magical weight that assaulted his mind. The shotgun in his hands wavered.

"Silence!" Vanessa roared from the center of the group, her fingers thrust toward the ceiling.

A semicircular, transparent wave rippled outward. As it passed over Ed, all external sound vanished instantly, as if he had been struck deaf. Seizing the moment of clarity, Ed pulled the trigger without hesitation.

The spreading buckshot, blazing with holy fire, tore through the spectral forms. Some of the bishop spirits contorted in silent agony—Ed could not hear their screams.

Only the knightly spirits seemed indifferent to the pain, continuing their charge undeterred. And then, in the midst of their assault, they vanished completely from sight.