Lord of Glory

The next day, Paladin was sitting inside the confessional as a newly assigned priest, listening to people recounting and confessing their sins from the neighboring booth.
Paladin thought the concept was very new to him at first, but after hearing the confessions of seven people, he was thoroughly annoyed.
The sins uttered by these commoners were nothing more than trivial things like stealing the neighbor's eggs the day before or looking and being envious at the beauty of a friend's wife.
When the eighth rancid-smelling peasant entered to confess, Paladin covered his nose and began to question whether his decision to disguise himself as a priest was correct.

Paladin, dressed in a brand new black priest's robe, was covering his nose with his sleeve.
He suddenly felt a strong desire to return to the back room.
After Northam had agreed to cooperate and became his temporary partner, Northam informed him that this church had a basement which functioned as a storage room containing wine barrels and dry rations.
Paladin, who desperately needed a secluded location, was overjoyed

In particular, Paladin realized a significant point.
The most basic requirement for him to advance, to have a good life and a high position, was that he must have power! Paladin, who had just discovered the sweet taste of abusing power, naturally couldn’t wait to refine more Philosopher's Stones again to increase his power.

As a result, Paladin, who was filled with desire, instructed Northam to capture some of the town's peasants tomorrow night, preferably those unloved, unpleasant rogues! This way, even if someone went missing, not many people would pay attention.
After all, Paladin was too young and it’d be extremely dangerous for him to presumptuously win over a depraved priest.

That Northam could also simply leave and never return.
Paladin would’ve nothing to do with the opposing party.
Fortunately, luck was still on his side Because when night fell after a rough day for him, when Paladin eagerly returned to the back room, he was just in time to see Northam in a mess, propped up against the wall with bated breath.

Paladin couldn't care less whether Northam was alive or dead.
He lowered his head and noticed four sacks of varying sizes on the ground.
Paladin was able to identify two old men and two children in the dim light despite the fact that it was not very obvious.
They had filthy hair and greasy faces.
Obviously, these people were beggars on the street.
Paladin nodded in satisfaction.
He looked at the street's empty intersection and said, “Good job, has anyone noticed you?”

Northam shook his head tiredly.
He took the water bottle from his pocket, and began drinking.

“Stop drinking, let's carry them into the basement together.
Staying here any longer could be potentially dangerous.”

After saying that, he picked up the children and entered the church.
Northam hesitated as he looked at Paladin's back, wanting to say something but he didn't say anything at the end.
So, he grabbed the remaining sacks and followed Paladin’s footsteps.

Slam! As the trapdoor leading to the basement swung open, Paladin and Northam walked in with four unconscious people on their shoulders.
Northam casually threw them to the ground and lit the torch beside the wall.
It gradually brightened the very dark basement.
Paladin took a look around.
Paladin glanced around.
The basement was, as Northam stated, quite large.
Aside from a few barrels of fruit wine, there were sacks of dry food and wheat.
There was still a lot of unused space.
Paladin nodded in satisfaction and waved his hand.

“Get out.
Remember to lock the door.”

Hearing this, Northam paused and couldn't help but ask, “Paladin, why do you want them? You are a Father, Paladin!”

Before Northam could finish his sentence, Paladin turned his head, stared at Northam grimly, and corrected his inappropriate address.

“Father Paladin.”

Northam lowered his head, speaking slowly and deliberately, “What are you doing to need to lock these people up for? Tell me what you really want to do, now that we're in this together.”

“The time is not right, I will tell you later.”

Northam was irritated by the apparent perfunctory tone, which prompted him to ask angrily, “What exactly do you want to do? You're not going to sacrifice them while they're still alive, are you? Sacrifice them up to some evil god!”

Paladin raised his brows, although that wasn’t the case, but it wasn’t far from it.
Northam saw Paladin’s expression darkened, his eyes filled with viciousness and cruelty.

“You don't have to worry about my business.
And what does the existence of these scumbags have to do with you? Don't you think a man who has faith in the fallen, a black sorcerer who kills innocent people indiscriminately, shouldn’t be concerned about the lives of a few insignificant people?”

Perhaps these words of Paladin crossed Northam’s bottom line.
His face turned bright red and he roared with anger, “Insignificant? They are living human beings! I know you are a nobleman, high above, who look down on these slave-like lowly people and call themselves noble blood.
But I’ll tell you what, Paladin.
Humans, even in poverty, can breathe, grieve, and be heartbroken! They are all living people, just like you and me!”

Unexpectedly, Northam's self-righteous ranting hit Paladin exactly seven inches deep in the chest.
In a flash, Paladin's pupils contracted violently as the scenes of the miserable and humiliating life he had in the Freemasons’ Association for twenty years flashed through his mind.
It flashed right in front of his eyes, just like a flying horse watching flowers swooshed past it.

“You are the same as them.
You are as low and poor as them.
You are no different from them,” a voice in Paladin's heart said.

“No!” Paladin suddenly roared, his eyes bloodshot.
He stared viciously and ferociously at the still enraged Northam.

He thought to himself, “No, I'm different! I'm not the same as these insignificant garbages at all! What exactly are they? Begging on the street, every meal is less than the previous one.
They have hands and feet, but they are incapable of supporting themselves.
All they know is how to accept alms! How much have I paid for freedom? Killing people, running away, eating grass roots, hiding in bear caves.
I have abandoned morality because it only led me into a life of poverty and lowliness! Now I am a nobleman, a higher person than a commoner, Paladin Flamel!”

Head full of this thought, Paladin's brow furrowed, only to be interrupted by a snap.
Suddenly, he slapped Northam.
Paladin looked at the latter's stunned and unbelieving eyes.
He grimly sneered.

“I think you are living more and more backwards, dead old man.
As a black sorcerer who is studying forbidden dark magic and necromancy, a cruel executioner and butcher, how dare you preach anything about life to me? Hahahahaha! GET OUTt”

Northam was yelled at in the face by a junior.
His face was already purple with anger.
He glared, pointed at Paladin in anger, and warned him, “You'd better remember your promise to bring down the Holy See.” After saying that, he flicked his sleeves, climbed up the stairs, and slammed the door shut.

Inside the basement, which was suddenly darkened, Paladin looked at the door in front of him with a grim smile.
Taking the quill out of his sleeve while laughing maliciously, he said “Don't worry, Northam.
When I drain you of your value, I’ll absolutely throw you away like a broken rag.”