History Repeats Itself

In the morgue, the woman still in her white wedding dress, was chained tightly to the autopsy table.

The first class superintendent, who had just walked in, frowned.

"Tell me what idiot did this!"

An old forensic pathologist who was instructing the trainees in their operations turned around and looked at the young superintendent with a green face but an intimidatingly large position, and replied with some reluctance:

"It's for everyone's safety."

Fintan stepped forward and lifted the white cloth that covered the chain.

"This woman is dead through and through, half her head is gone!"

And a body that could have been placed here can certainly be ruled out as fraudulent.

The coroner nuzzled, "Talk to her husband, he's right next to her under the hooded sheet."

Fintan followed suit and lifted the white cloth next to him.

An obese man with curly brown hair, a scruffy beard, and a strong upper body, it was evident that he had carried out some kind of physically active occupation during his lifetime.

His fatal wound was to his chest, half of which was collapsed by the powerful impact of the shotgun shells, leaving only a dense mass of bullet holes after the pellets were removed.

The old coroner came to him and said slowly, "This is the work of the woman you thought was dead through and through, and the bodies here, all her victims."

Fintan lifted his head expressionlessly and swept a circle around the morgue with its thirty or so stretchers.

Then picking up the Ghost Bride Incident Report on the side of the counter, he read it carefully.

[Just because of the $60,000 gambling debt, the single father sold his fresh-faced daughter to a butcher as his wife, and at the end of the wedding night, the bride, who wore white make-up, wore her mother's leftover wedding gown, picked up a double-barreled shotgun and shot at passers-by from the balcony, a rage-inducing act that caused a total of eleven injuries, and finally drank herself to death in public.]

[The next night, the bride's body disappeared, while a shooting murder was reported from the Bakerland Street Tavern, where hundreds of witnesses saw a woman in a white wedding dress, her face shrouded by a veil, walk into the tavern with a gun, and the victim of the shooting was none other than the Butcher.]

In the following month, the ghost brides who kept coming back from the dead would shoot a man every night, and these men all had one thing in common, that is, they didn't act like men, these men didn't take their wives and daughters seriously, they were lazy, they gambled, drank heavily, and committed domestic violence...]. These men do not care about their wives and daughters, they are lazy, they gamble, they drink too much, they commit domestic violence... and they even take the women's hard-earned money to prostitutes, treating them as slaves to be used as they wish...]

In the report, that after-the-fact investigation looked at the knight's forehead with veins popping out.

Lifting his head, Fintan took a deep breath.

Those men did deserve to die, but they didn't deserve to be judged the way they were.

He then furrowed his brow, "I would conclude that these events were never the work of this already dead bride, and it makes no sense at all for you to be tied up like this, it might even be laughable."

"But our chief, and the general male population in general, need that comfort..." The old coroner shrugged.

The intern who had been silent on the sidelines suddenly raised her head, "Ghost bride doesn't refer to this poor girl anymore, it's a spiritual symbol."

The two then turned their heads to the fresh-faced intern.

"We all know that someone is using the name of the Ghost Bride to commit murder, and the murderers are those who have always been constant companions of ours, who are everywhere but have always been ignored, and precisely because no one has noticed them, they can't be stopped..."

"No!"

Fintan dropped his eyes flatly, "I will stop this farce by personally catching the murderer who is pretending to be a ghost bride!"

When he had gone, the old coroner turned and chided, "Why did you irritate the superintendent?"

The intern, however, lifted his chin without any fear at all.

...

Late at night, the knight stood silently crouching on a high building.

After three full days and a few losses with the killer, he finally circled an area based on consecutive crime locations.

Poverty-stricken South Side, is a place that has more crappy people living in it, compared to the rest of the city.

But, strangely, such a man could find a wife.

Just as Fintan was silently contemplating, a sudden gunshot in the distance rang through the blackness of the night.

"BANG!!!"

The surrounding alleys and corners, which originally still had some strange noises, instantly went dead silent.

"Finally, got you..."

The knight slowly dropped his body, the sight in his eyes constantly skimming over as the wind gusted in his ears.

A short distance of two thousand meters arrived in a single breath.

In the dimly lit alleyway, a man in a wedding dress, his entire head shrouded in a white veil, walked out slowly with a shotgun and then lurched to his feet.

"So a man can be a bride?"

The knight holding the silver sword blocked the entrance to the alley and let out a cold scoff.

The 'Ghost Bride's' body shook a little as if she hadn't expected to be caught in the act.

Fintan slowly raised his blade and pointed it at his opponent.

"Have you thought about the speech you'll make tomorrow when you're released to the public?"

The figure in front of him suddenly blossomed, and that incredible speed caused the knight's heart to shake violently.

The opponent was a Transcendent!

Why doesn't the church care?

Inwardly shocked, Fintan couldn't think any further and subconsciously raised the silver sword in his hand.

Transcendent activity surged throughout his body, his shoulder muscles bulged violently, and in that burst of amazing power, the silver sword dragged out a sword shadow as bright as moonlight, directly slashing fiercely toward the figure that swept by his side.

The might of Silver, even Legends have few sequences that can withstand it, Fintan had no intention of killing his opponent on the spot, so he only used half of his strength, intending to injure his opponent before bringing him back for judgment.

One arm raised, the Ghost Bride moved with the same agility, looking equally specialized in close combat sequences.

Then the knight's eyes popped open.

Fintan expected that his opponent might use some magical ability to block, but he didn't think it would be this simple and sharp.

The palm of that hand, straight away, gripped the silver sword and then casually broke it.

"Crack~"

The expensive silver sword crumbled into fragments in the sky on the spot.

....

"So that's how you lost your weapon?"

In the confessional, the cleric looked at the grim-faced knight with some amusement.

"Forget it, just reconfigure your weapon again as one of your rewards for your last mission."

The cleric rose, then pulled a brand new standardized silver sword from his arsenal.

Fintan looked up in dark hatred, "That man is a Transcendent, he must be plotting some evil event!"

The Magus returned indifferently, "Even if you catch him, it's useless because the movement has already begun..."

The Knight simply didn't believe in it, and after getting his new weapon, he went back to squatting on that ghostly bride, and this time, he was bound not to hold back any of his strength.

But this time, he caught a skinny woman with tears in the corner of her eyes.

After handing the woman over to the police, Fintan, who was a little shaken up inside, continued his duty in the dark.

Subsequently, he caught more women committing crimes in the dark.

Their weapons were rudimentary, stones, sticks, kitchen knives, and even rolling pins.

These ghost brides are dressed in a myriad of strange costumes, ragged white veils, curtains, or simply a faded white sheet that has been washed.

Fintan finally understood what the shinigami meant by movement.

The Ghost Bride has fallen, but thousands of women have risen!

Marches, demonstrations, protests, widespread strikes, a movement that once shook the fabric of society during the Industrial Revolution, swept across the North!