Abyssal Sovereignty

"Have they caught up with us again?..."

At the edge of a cliff, a young girl in a white robe adorned with golden accents looked down at the abyss beneath her—a darkness so profound, so bottomless, it invoked primal fear in all living beings. Yet, the girl showed no sign of fear.

She possessed beautiful golden hair and eyes, a delicate face of about fifteen years old, and her white robe exuded a pure, saintly aura with every movement.

Her name was Yverantheia Kallianthi, once known as the Saintess of the world's largest religion, the Holy Light Church... or so she used to be.

"...As Knights of the Holy Light Church, is it dignified to surround two defenseless women like this!?"

Yverantheia turned around, her expression filled with anger as she glared at the knights encircling her in their splendid armor.

"Oh, but we're just following orders! As knights of the church, it's our duty to cleanse those who have turned from the faith. Isn't that right, Saintess... oh no, apostate Yverantheia?"

Before her stood a group of knights in ornate armor, forming a semicircle that trapped her and her maid.

It all began a week ago. While Yverantheia was praying as usual, her maid Anasthasia, her closest friend, burst in, informing her about the Pope branding her as an apostate and sending the Holy Justice Knights to purge her.

Since then, they had been on the run, constantly hiding their identities, until they ended up by this abyss. But now, they had been caught.

"Nonsense! My faith has never wavered; I remain a devout follower of the Holy Light Church! It's more likely that you haven't prayed in a month, isn't it?"

"You...! How dare you slander the devoutness of the Holy Justice Knights! Your crimes are grave indeed."

The knight captain signaled with a wave of his hand, and all the knights drew their swords from their belts. He too unsheathed his sword, aiming it at Yverantheia.

"If you surrender now, we might consider your past as the Saintess and lessen your punishment. But now, it's uncertain."

"Let's see if you can keep that mouth of yours running after we arrest you."

Contrasting the sacred dignity of their armor, the knight captain's eyes revealed unreserved greed and... lust.

"Attack!"

The knights surged forward, intent on capturing Yverantheia.

Bang!!

Suddenly, a massive explosion sent the approaching knights flying.

"Don't underestimate me, pests of the Holy Light Church. While I may be just a saintess with no combat skills, I can still use external forces."

Yverantheia had just used a magic-infused explosive. She only possessed healing and support abilities, lacking any offensive capabilities.

Of course, this could only buy her time. The bombs were limited, and these knights were elite among elites. They wouldn't be deterred so easily.

"Anasthasia, run!"

"Wait! What about you!?"

"I still have some strength left to escape. If you stay, we'll both be caught here!"

"Your Highness..."

Anasthasia gritted her teeth, torn with indecision.

"Damn it! If you won't accept a toast, you'll have to take the punishment! Attack!!"

The knight captain roared. Just as Yverantheia began to brace herself for the knights' assault, a blade unexpectedly pierced her abdomen.

"...Why... Anasthasia...?"

Yverantheia turned to look at the person who had thrust the blade, only to see Anasthasia pulling a dagger from her own body.

"Aren't... we friends..."

This sudden betrayal caused Yverantheia to lose her footing and fall into the abyss.

 

---

After an unknown period of descent, Yverantheia emerged from the darkness into a bizarre forest. Despite the lack of sunlight, she could still see her surroundings.

“Ugh… Ah…!”

Falling from such a height should have left her mangled beyond recognition, but the forest’s dense vegetation cushioned her fall. She tumbled through massive leaves before finally hitting the ground. Even so, injuries were unavoidable.

‘It hurts… I feel like my body is going to fall apart…’

A sharp, throbbing pain radiated through her entire body, and the stab wound in her abdomen continued to bleed profusely. She struggled to get up, her forehead beaded with cold sweat.

‘I need to… heal… quickly…’

“Grrr…”

Just as Yverantheia prepared to use a faith-based healing spell, a low growl sent a shiver down her spine.

A monster emerged from the bushes, its blood-red eyes fixed on her. Saliva dripped from its mouth, betraying its intention to devour Yverantheia as helpless prey.

‘Healing… won’t make it in time… I need to defend…’

As a saintess, she knew some defensive magic.

Using her remaining strength, Yverantheia hastily summoned a defensive spell from her limited magical reserves as the monster lunged at her…

Suddenly, her vision was filled with crimson.

“…?”

Blood gushed from her shoulder, staining her white robe red. A searing pain erupted from the wound, so intense that she couldn’t even scream.

Rip, crunch.

The sound of flesh being torn and bones being crushed echoed in her ears—a sound that might be enticing in a dining hall but was pure horror for Yverantheia now.

‘Why? Why didn’t the spell activate?’

She had followed the same steps she always did, steps she had practiced countless times. She was certain she hadn’t made any mistakes, yet the magic failed to activate.

The only explanation was—she could no longer use faith-based magic.

Faith-based magic required the user’s belief in a deity. This had never been an issue for Yverantheia, so the other possibility was…

‘Could it be… the goddess has abandoned me…’

This realization left Yverantheia in a daze. Her faith had always been devout; she had done nothing wrong and had always wanted to help people as a saintess. Yet, it all amounted to nothing, and now she was powerless.

“Grrr…”

While Yverantheia was lost in thought, the monster had finished devouring her right arm. Its hunger unsated, it turned back to Yverantheia, eyes gleaming with predatory desire.

Faced with the monster’s gaze, the fear and despair within Yverantheia swelled to overwhelming proportions.

‘No… I don’t want to die…’

“Grrr!”

The monster lunged at her again.

Driven by a desperate will to survive, Yverantheia forced her broken body into motion and began to run frantically.

“Grrr! Grrr!!”

The monstrous roars behind her sounded like the approach of death itself. Yverantheia, gritting her teeth against the pain, charged forward heedlessly, ignoring the wounds reopening on her body. Blood flowed freely from her severed arm, and her robe, already soaked in blood, became a tattered garment of crimson.

She left a gruesome trail of blood in her wake, her injuries multiplying with every step. Her once-white robe, now shredded and stained, bore testament to her ordeal.

Suddenly, a sensation of weightlessness seized Yverantheia.

She had run over the edge of a hole that opened into an underground cavern. Gravity took hold, pulling her downwards.

Before she could even process what was happening, a violent impact struck her, plunging her into unconsciousness.