Read Novel Full Chapter 1386 Bigger
Chapter 1386 Bigger
"Informant." Both sentinels glanced at each other before nodding. "Set up a meeting with this… informant."
…
Anorah burst through a swirling portal with haste, emerging in the portal room of her world. Asterra.
Despite the obvious panic, her expression remained placid. No emotion rippled through her face.
The moment she felt the touch of her world, felt the godlike power coursing through her body, she acted.
With a single thought, a cocoon of shimmering light enveloped One and Lazio, healing them.
Anorah's gaze drifted across the room. The attendants had abandoned their posts, clustering around her in a nervous half circle. Their voices overlapped one another, questions sharp and urgent:
"Is everything alright, Saint?"
"What happened, Saint!?"
"Are you okay, Saint?"
The words buzzed at her ears but did not enter her mind. Instead, her placid eyes fixed on them one by one.
Logoth stirred.
With each second, their façades thinned in her gaze.
She saw beyond their words and expression, and into the flicker of their emotions, the tension moving through their bones. Everything.
One attendant had leaned forward earnestly, but Anorah saw the truth in her:
'Not worry, but reverence.'
Another wrung his hands as though anxious, yet inside he was filled with curiosity,
'Eager for gossip.'
A woman bit her lip, head bowed, her guilt clear. She had abandoned her station too quickly, but no darker stain lay beneath it.
Anorah's gaze slid from face to face, reading the subtle nuances: a shoulder too rigid, a pulse quickening at her nearness, eyes that dared not meet hers though their voices clamored for her attention.
And then she saw it.
One woman, standing half hidden at the edge of the crowd, her bow just a bit too shallow.
Her words never rose with the others, but her silence screamed louder than their shouts.
On her skin, Logoth revealed the bits of cold sweat; in her eyes, a flicker. But it was not devotion, not curiosity, but raw, desperate fear.
Fear of her. Fear of being seen.
Anorah's gaze settled on her, and in that instant, her body betrayed her utterly.
"You," Anorah murmured softly, voice flat as a blade. "There you are."
She suddenly took a step forward, and the attendants went silent. They each stared, wondering what was going on.
But of them all, the one attendant who had Anorah's gaze on her felt as though she had been doused with icy water.
"You're a spy. You betrayed me. You caused this."
Certainty. Anorah hadn't asked, she had declared. The certainty with which she uttered those words sent a shudder through the woman. It was like there was nothing she could say to convince her otherwise.
"S-s-Saint… no…" the woman stammered, taking twice as many steps back as Anorah forward.
"No?"
Anorah took her next step. She vanished. The woman's eyes shot wide, and her gaze darted around, trying to find her when a heavy force impacted her cheek.
It sounded like a miniature bomb went off. The woman felt her cheekbone cave in, her head jerking to the side. But as though held by an unseen force, she remained rooted in place.
She could barely react when more blows landed on her cheeks, sending her head jerking from side to side. Blood splattered across the white floor with each blow, and the hall had fallen utterly silent.
The attendants, hands on their mouths, watched the brutal scene unfold silently. Most had seen the Saint fight before, but none had ever seen her torture anyone like this.
It took a moment for the woman to realize that she was being slapped. When she did, she felt a surge of dread. But the slap suddenly stopped. Just as she was about to fall, a firm hand gripped her neck.
Anorah's fingers tightened around the woman's throat, holding her upright. The Saint's expression never shifted, placid, unreadable, yet all the more dreadful for it.
"There is nothing I despise more than a traitor," she whispered, "and you… are exactly that."
The woman's trembling grew violent, blood dripping down her chin as she struggled for air. Anorah leaned closer, her lips by the woman's ear, her tone soft yet cold enough to freeze fire.
"I will make you wish you had chosen a different path. You will beg for death long before I grant it."
The attendants dared not move, dared not breathe. All they could do was watch as the screams of the woman tore out through the night.
Anorah hid nothing. She didn't take her to a private space or demand they excuse her. She had tortured the woman right here, and for the first time, many of them witnessed the brutality of the Saint.
In just a few minutes, the woman became a lifeless husk of herself. Her beauty was nowhere to be seen, and her eyes were hollow.
A god had control of the world. To be tortured by a god was to be tortured by the world itself.
"Who did you inform of my outing?" the Saint finally asked, her tone flat, merciless.
The woman's eyes darted aimlessly, lips quivering. She seemed lost in fear, until another searing slap tore her back into reality. She gasped, trembling.
"I–I… I don't know," she stammered, voice shaking. "M-my job was only… only to nod… at the hallway camera when y-you went out."
Anorah's eyes flickered. Her grip on the woman's neck didn't loosen.
"Since when?"
The woman hesitated, her mind fogging again. Another thunderous slap cracked across her face, snapping her back. Blood flew from her lip.
"S-since… since I b-began working here," she stuttered through broken sobs.
Anorah's gaze flickered.
"What camera?"
The woman's breathing turned frantic, chest heaving as she choked out the answer. "Th-the one… the one leading to the t-temple… j-just two hallways from h-here."
Anorah's mind began to dissect the information with chilling precision, every word slotting into place like pieces of a puzzle.
This was a bigger plot than she had thought.
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