It was a windy starless winter night in Finikounda and the Mediterranean Sea waves wildly caressed the sandy shores. The small town on the southwest part of Messinia, Peloponese, was very quiet without the families and beach fans, those who were used to crowding the small streets and enjoying the bright blue calm waters in summer.
A tall young man approached a dimly lit tavern where few people had dinner and some drinks. He grinned as he stared at a couple, so young and unconcerned of the threats of real life! But there was work to be done that night…
It was just a spark of golden light and hell came to the sleepy village. In a couple of minutes, the walls fell down and the fire consumed the bodies and humble belongings of the unfortunate inhabitants.
He looked around with pride and began his mantra: - Killing, destroying, breaking bones, tearing-off soft flesh… I dominate all you! See, my hands are dripping blood now…! Fear my power!
Afterwards, the golden figure stood alone. He took a deep breath while motionless limbs and astonished faces on the floor surrounded him. He watched blindly ahead, his nostrils being intoxicated by the peculiar smell of fear.
The devastation of this small village, the annihilation of entire families, blood stains everywhere, shattered dreams…
- Hey! I'm having the time of my life! Mamma mia, che bella festa! (1) He laughed aloud.
Panting, he listened to the screams of terror. Those still alive were begging for forgiveness and release! What a treat for a sadist! Just another attack and they fell silent… Finally!
Yes, this is my new masterpiece and legacy! Those miserable rats are dead! The Pope would be proud of me!
Again, his wicked smile floated like an ominous shadow. He flexed his muscles. Then he noticed a slight movement, a trembling body covered by the tavern debris. He walked straight ahead, nothing troubling him, fists closed and showing a malevolent dark grin. Amidst the remains, there was a beautiful creature, the one who was sharing the meal with her beloved before his attack…! How funny, indeed! Her lovely face was distorted and she was crying, holding a mutilated body against her breasts. He laughed again!
So she survived…! Women are so strong!
He looked fixedly at her. She was there… an innocent victim of a horrible sacrificial rite! His last yet not final prey!
First her veiled eyes stared at his golden imposing figure, full of wonder and hope… but suddenly she realized the naked truth! She had locked her eyes in those fiery ones and saw the wickedness at the bottom of the stained waters of those pair of deep dark wells. There was no hope for her, just death! Maybe a fast one! She hugged her lover, together in life as in death. His eyes turned harder. What a miserable weakling! Slowly, he came forward enjoying every minute of her ordeal.
Do you miss your beloved one? Want to join him? I would grant your wish! I would be your dark blue angel!
Without pity, he crushed that fragile pretty creature with a single blow and swiftly sent her shaking soul through the Yomotsu Hirasaka. He turned around again. The entire village was set ablaze, thanks to his skillful blows, razed to the ground. Only ruins and rubble were left of that prosperous coastal Greek village. No more happy summers in this doomed place. It was obliterated!
- Cavolo! Un bello capolavoro! (2) – He was satisfied at last. He was done here now. It was time to run back to the Sanctuary.
The heavy doors opened as he entered the Pope's Hall and approached his throne. He knelt in front of his master although he didn't care of cleaning the dirt and blood covering his Gold Cloth. It was his pleasure to serve him. He stared at the silent mask. He revered him and the Pope knew it.
- Is it done, Cancer? No survivors? – The masked man rashly asked hiding his disgust.
- Yes, Highness. No one left. – He answered with a devilish grin.
No more questions. The Pope was silent for a while. It seemed that the one who was the voice of the Goddess was lost in his thoughts. Why? Any regrets, my master?
The Gold Saint was slightly disappointed because he expected to give him the details, the juicy bloody ones… but, at the end, the mission was accomplished! Game over!
Suddenly, the Pope stood up from his throne and dismissed him. Knelt, he saw those broad manly shoulders which carried the weight of the Sanctuary majestically moving towards the private chambers. He was left alone.
He took a deep breath. That man is unpredictable! I must be rewarded!
Well, he was not an angel but a mighty warrior, the finest of the Gold ones and only loyal to the powerful. He believed in strength and power. The powerful ones were meant to define what was good and to rule the world. Justice belonged to those in power not to those who dreamed of love and other stupid things as friendship!
Now, he was worshipping his god, the highest authority in the Sanctuary, the masked Pope. He was the most powerful of all! He knew that this man had a secret past and a terrible sin, but … who cared? His master could decide on life or death because he was godlike. He had witnessed how the Pope's Demon Emperor Fist controlled Leo Aiolia and bent his will. What a mighty man! A chosen one! His body exuded power!
Cancer, being a powerful man, must be allied to the most powerful one. He knew that the Pope trusted him, his Gold Saint, and he summoned him for special missions, like this one against the impious Finikounda. He didn't send the soft hearted ones, who vegetated in their fancy temples. How much he despised them!
Yes, the Pope was more than a man: he was a god and embodied all power!
He respected and longed for power. Always! If the masked man was his god and he ruled the Sanctuary, he would be at his side, devoutly. He'd be his Saint, his right hand. Even if the Pope asked him to destroy a village of innocent fishermen or peasants just for sport, let it be. If the masked one commanded him to kill another Saint, it would be his pleasure to serve him. There would be no sin in following his orders. He preferred to obey him instead of challenging him.
All in all, power is justice. As a Gold Saint, he could not fail to comply with the Pope's orders.
(1) My goodness! What a feast!
(2) Holy mackerel! A beautiful masterpiece!