Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 410

**Chapter 410 : Toxin**
*Conqueror Sea, Northern Shore – Nawah*

Inside a dim chapel nestled along Nawah’s western edge, night cloaked the weary pilgrims gathered in solemn prayer. Members of the church fleet filled the pews, their whispered devotions rising like incense. Among them sat Vania, usually steadfast in worship—but tonight, something unnatural crept into her mind, pulling her into a sleep not her own.

Her body slumped on the bench, seemingly unnoticed by those around her, yet outside, two pairs of eyes observed intently.

“That nun in white’s gone under. Barlo’s Dream Trap worked. Now it’s my turn to pick a subject.”

Leaning beside a small, dusty window, a nondescript man peered inside with quiet intensity. His gaze bounced between Vania’s limp form and another window across the church, behind which sat Barlo—his partner—deep in a trance.

Together, they conducted a clandestine mission: sift through the dreams of select refugees for hidden truths. They slipped into minds under the guise of slumber, scouring thoughts for secrets. Barlo had made his move, snaring the nun. Now it was the second man’s time to act.

Their objective was clear—uncover the real purpose behind the Glorious Church fleet’s journey. The refugee narrative felt like a front. High-profile individuals were prime targets, and Vania’s white robe had made her a natural choice. Now, the other operative scanned for someone else of significance.

After minutes of silent evaluation beneath flickering candlelight, his gaze locked on a junior officer in the first row—a youthful man clad in the formal regalia of the Holy War Knights.

Eyes narrowing, the watcher extended his will, activating his abilities. The chosen officer, already burdened by fatigue, slipped into unconsciousness. With that, the spy closed his own eyes, plunging inward.

—

**Within the Dream – Vania’s Mind**

The world around Vania shimmered with otherworldly hues—shapes shifting, time distorting. She stood frozen, her consciousness open and vulnerable. In front of her, an indistinct silhouette emerged, voice low and probing.

“You say your fleet sails for Iwig… a pilgrimage. Then explain,” the figure’s edges rippled with dream static, “why the sudden change in course to Nawah?”

Vania, still drifting in her dream-fog, responded flatly. “We diverted to evacuate passengers from the *Flashing White Pearl*. Nawah was closest.”

“Just unloading survivors…” the shadow murmured, doubtful. The diversion had raised suspicions; they’d expected some hidden objective masked behind the excuse. But now… maybe it was truth.

*Could their detour be genuine? Or does this nun simply rank too low to know more? Either way, I’ll keep digging…*

“What about other objectives? Anything classified, concealed?” the voice pressed harder.

“None,” Vania replied with a hollow tone.

“The events at the port yesterday—what caused the disruption?”

“The sounds came from a skirmish. Sir Jod and his knights fought off two Abyssian cultists.”

“Abyssians?” The silhouette’s form wavered in surprise. “The drowned ones?” They hadn’t expected them—this complicated matters.

*Unexpected. The Abyss Sect’s tendrils reach this far? Garcia’s paranoia might not be so misplaced after all. But if their prey lies elsewhere…*

The shadow recomposed itself, then asked, “There were also reports of blasts and gunfire near the eastern shoreline. Any connection?”

“That was understood. Abyssian agent Massimo Russo swam ashore. He was intercepted. The battle broke out during the ambush.”

The voice narrowed. “An ambush? Was it the Church that foresaw his arrival and set the trap?”

Vania’s next words landed like a dropped blade. “No. The Church didn’t do it.”

“What?” The tone snapped to panic. “Then who else has forces in Nawah?”

She nodded faintly. “Another group is present.”

“Who? Which faction?!” The shadow’s voice cracked as dread crept in.

“It was… Doro—”

Her lips moved, the name forming—only to dissolve, unfinished.

All around the dream-plaza where she stood, the backdrop of silent, praying figures froze mid-motion. As one, their faces tilted toward the surreal sky. Then, all at once, their mouths opened and a wave of discordant chanting spilled out:

“Borne in the crimson sea of the womb, we offer to the Holy Mother her surrogate form…”

“Blood and wine, blended and divine; from her womb I came, from Hers I also spring…”

“Great Judge of the Skies, pardon our treacheries, for rot gives rise to purity, betrayal to loyalty…”

“Arthur, Windrider, sought Agero, but his path was barred—eight-eyed, eight-fingered, the witch awaited…”

The air fractured under the weight of a hundred ancient, heretical chants. Symbols lit the sky—twisted glyphs, malformed scripture—dancing with violent light like cursed fireflies. Their meaning scorched the dreamscape, infecting all who beheld them.

“Wha… aaagh!” The shadow-being reeled, overwhelmed. It was too late. The profane verses, the blasphemous knowledge—they flooded him. He tried to cover his ears, to shut his eyes, but the glyphs embedded themselves in his very essence.

He screamed, thrashing as his dream-form distorted grotesquely, warping and convulsing until it ripped apart like smoke uncorked from a cursed vessel.

“AAAAAAHHHHHH—!”

—

**Back to Reality – Nawah’s Chapel**

A terrible scream shattered the stillness, cutting through the prayer like a blade. Heads lifted, eyes darted.

“Who’s there?!”

Through stained glass, they saw him—a young man outside, eyes stretched wide, blood streaming from every facial opening. His face twisted in agony. He collapsed backward, convulsing, then lay still.

Inside, the second operative awoke with a jolt, jarred from his own dive by the scream. His eyes flew to Barlo’s crumpled body.

“Barlo?! What the hell?!”

He rushed over. One glance confirmed the worst—no breathing, eyes glassy, blood pooling rapidly. No pulse.

“Dead?! How—what killed him?!” Panic clawed at his voice. No enemy in sight. No weapon, no trace. And yet, Barlo was gone.

Boots thundered from within the church. The alarm was spreading. The surviving spy bolted, melting into the night.

Moments later, the congregation flooded out, only to find a lifeless body lying in the damp, a silent pool of red spreading beneath it.

—

**Inside the Church**

Vania stirred.

“Mmmh… Huh…? Why so exhausted all of a sudden… Sleeping during prayers… shameful…” She rubbed at her foggy glasses, struggling to refocus. Around her, tension had replaced solemnity. The faithful whispered, uneasy.

“Hmm? Did something happen… while I dozed off?” she muttered in confusion. Then, without warning, a warmth touched her mind.

“Sister Vania… You’re awake?”

“Huh? Lady Dorothy? Is that… your voice through Alka?”

“Yes, it’s me,” came the calm reply. “Something has occurred. You must be brought up to speed. Nawah… harbors threats more insidious than we assumed…”

—

**Elsewhere in Nawah – Late Night**

In a shadowed chamber, Garcia sat upright in a cushioned armchair, her stare hard as iron. The man before her trembled, his breathing ragged.

“What did you say? Barlo’s dead?! Just… dropped? No explanation?”

“Y-yes, Madam Garcia,” the agent gasped. “He was inside a dream, interrogating a church officer. Suddenly… he screamed. When I got to him, he was gone. Blood everywhere—nose, mouth, ears. He didn’t stand a chance…”

Garcia’s gaze narrowed like a knife’s edge. “Was he attacked? How did it happen?”

“I-I don’t know! I saw nothing—no injuries, no one nearby! Just… death. It terrifies me…”

She leaned forward with icy calm. “Barlo is gone, and you left the scene behind like a coward? What value do you bring me now?”

Sweat broke on his skin. “N-no! I—I got something! Intel! Valuable info—extracted from the officer!”

“Speak.”

“The clergy! Their reason for remaining in Nawah! I got it from him!”

Her eyes didn’t blink. “You found their tether. Explain.”

“They—they’re waiting! Holding position until reinforcements arrive!”

Garcia didn’t flinch, but pressure built in the silence between them.

“Waiting for who?” Her voice sliced like cold steel.

“The Inquisition!” The man’s voice cracked. “Madam Garcia, the Inquisition is en route from Tivian. The Church is rallying power here, in Nawah! Their true focus… it’s us!”