lovenovelstory Chapter 7 Blasphemy and Repentance, Deep Repentance.
Chapter 7 Blasphemy and Repentance, Deep Repentance.
The echoes of the gunshots completely dissipated under the corrugated iron roof of the factory.
Watching the two men's bodies gradually come to a standstill after the gunshot.
Jason slowly exhaled.
He loosened his grip on the gun, letting the Glock pistol hang naturally at his side.
The muscles in my shoulders felt tired for the first time.
It's not physical, but the exhaustion that comes from letting a taut string relax.
He walked to the wall, slid down against the cold cement wall, and sat down.
The rifle was placed horizontally on his lap.
ended.
Fanta Brotherhood.
The Mexican guy who sold Mike the drugs was Mike's supplier.
The line ends here.
Mike's revenge has been achieved.
Although he knew this was more like displaced anger, since his son had died because of this damned life, at least these people in front of him had paid the price.
A hollow sense of relaxation washed over me.
Like the exhaustion that follows a high fever.
But in the next moment, some information rushed into his mind.
It is the [Hunting Dog] ability that is triggered.
It is Frank's memory.
Frank, the deputy sheriff, stood bowing in the sheriff's office, facing a man in sheriff's uniform sitting in the main seat.
"Frank, this is the new list. Go and make the arrangements."
It was none other than County Sheriff Calvin Kildy.
"Yes, sir, I promise I'll do a perfect job."
Frank, bowing slightly, smiled as he spoke, flipping through a folder.
The page features a photo of Erica Jensen.
"Then get on it as soon as possible, it's urgent over there."
"Yes, sir."
The scene ended with Frank's apologetic smile.
Jason suddenly opened his eyes, his eyes wide and bloodshot.
He reached out and began rummaging through the scattered documents.
"Is that so? Is that really how it is?"
He was holding a form, but it didn't have Erica on it; instead, it had a child named Steve Taylor on it.
My eyes fell directly on the words "liver, high match".
He vividly remembered that Erica had written "High match, high reference value" in this cell on the form, and there was even a handwritten asterisk next to it.
Then he saw the notes section at the very bottom of the table.
Moreover, Erica differed from all the other questions on the form by only one word: "health".
"That's not it...it can't be like that."
Jason's mind seemed to explode.
He couldn't believe it.
But the facts truly told him why.
Because he taught her so well.
Healthy, clean, and with perfect health indicators.
This perfection became the reason she was chosen, a cold asterisk on the document.
Jason's hands began to tremble.
It's sadness, it's guilt.
Yes……
The hollow sense of relief I felt just moments before evaporated instantly, replaced by something heavier and more intense.
anger.
It wasn't a vague, displaced anger directed at the Fanta Brotherhood, but a precise, sharp anger that knew exactly where to strike.
In my consciousness, a new red guiding line is being generated.
It was thicker and shinier than any of the previous ones, stretching out like a red-hot iron wire.
At the end of the line, a name clearly emerges:
Calvin Kirdie.
He slowly stood up, gathered the scattered documents on the ground, and set them aside.
Then he started dragging the Gundam.
One, two, three.
He grabbed Gao Da's ankles or arms and dragged them to the open space in the center of the factory.
There was no outburst of anger, only mechanical, silent movement.
The bloodstains left long, dark red trails on the ground.
Thirty-one Gundams.
He arranged them according to a certain pattern:
Arms straight, legs together, torso aligned.
Finally, it forms a huge cross shape—but the direction is slightly reversed, with the horizontal arm longer than the vertical arm and the bottom pointing towards the doorway.
Frank's Gundam was placed right in the center.
After doing all this, he walked to each Gundam and used the tip of his saber to carve a cross mark on their foreheads.
The blade sliced through the skin, reaching deep into the skull.
Blood streamed down his cheeks, resembling black tear stains in the dim light.
After he finished carving them all, he stood in front of the array of crosses.
He took off his tactical gloves, revealing his hands, and knelt on the ground, holding a cross in his hands.
"Lord."
He said in a low voice,
"Give me the strength to settle the score with true sin."
As soon as he finished speaking, a surge of heat rose from his palm.
The cross scar began to burn, and the temperature rose rapidly.
The heat spread from my arm to my whole body, like magma being injected into my blood.
My muscles were heating up, my bones were burning hot, and my heart was pounding so fast I could almost hear the drumbeats.
Power is emerging.
It was stronger and more abundant than before.
Vision becomes sharper, and hearing can pick up subtle sounds from further away outside the factory.
almost.
The power is accumulating and rising, sprinting towards a certain critical point.
It's like water in a glass that's already overflowing; one more drop and it will spill.
His skin began to turn red, and his body temperature rose to the point where the air could be seen to distort slightly.
The airflow exhaled during each breath is hot.
It was so close.
The power stopped at the very moment it was about to break through.
It's not a decline, it's a stagnation.
Like a high-speed train suddenly stopped by an invisible wall, all momentum returns to zero in a fraction of a second.
The temperature began to drop.
The redness on my skin faded, my heartbeat returned to normal, and that feeling of fullness and energy was still there, but it no longer increased.
It stopped just below the rim of the cup, almost overflowing, but just couldn't cross it.
Jason was stunned.
Why?
A thought popped into my head uncontrollably:
Was it because I questioned the Lord? Was it blasphemy against God's will?
After all, he doubted the Lord, and doubted that Erica was not killed as a drug user.
The reason he ignored this was simply because he was despicably trying to vent his anger.
"No."
He said it in a low voice, then his voice grew louder.
"Lord! I didn't mean to!"
He knelt down, his forehead pressed against the cold cement floor.
Clutching the cross pendant tightly to his chest, the metal edge cut his palms, and blood trickled down between his fingers.
"Lord! I repent! I dare not blaspheme You! I shouldn't have done it this way! Lord!!"
He repeated it over and over, his voice changing from a roar to a sob.
Only his cries echoed through the factory.
The only sounds were the meows of cats and dogs getting closer.
No response.
He cried for about three minutes.
Then the crying stopped.
He looked up, his face streaked with tears and blood, but his expression had changed.
From fear, it transformed into a hardened, almost fanatical devotion.
The power remains.
The Lord has not withdrawn His blessing.
What does this mean?
This means that God is still watching him, but he has made a mistake.
He should not question the Lord; that would be blasphemy against the blessing.
The Lord is reminding him, but has not yet abandoned him.
He slowly stood up and wiped the tears and blood from his face with his sleeve.
"Lord."
He spoke in a low voice, hoarse but steady.
"Your sinners will heed this lesson and use their power to carry out your will."
He began cleaning up the scene.
He picked up the spent cartridge cases one by one and put them into his pocket.
The footprints were wiped off with Gundam's clothes.
The fingerprints on the doorknob were wiped away.
Each Gundam was inspected to ensure that no hair or fibers of its own remained.
Finally, some cash was taken from Williams and the other Gundams.
Before leaving, I took one last look at the inverted cross made of Gundams.
Moonlight streamed in through the broken roof, casting a cold, silvery-white hue over the faces etched with blood-red crosses.
"Kavan Kildee, I will make you atone for your sins."