Since the day Qiushang Town fell, Bane has been living there. As a priest, he struggled to maintain the town’s only church. People advised him to leave this troubled place, but he couldn’t bring himself to go. Bane thought it was precisely because this place had fallen into darkness that it needed the light of God even more.
Bane believed he could bring a glimmer of hope to this small town, but what was happening before his eyes was gradually breaking his sanity.
All the doors and windows of the church were sealed shut, and for days, it had stopped receiving any believers. Inside the church, all the chairs were overturned and piled into a corner, clearing a large area.
Underneath the painted glass, bodies lay in the center under the gaze of the statues. People dressed in robes bent over, drawing blood from the corpses and using it to draw a massive ritual array pattern.
The floors, walls, windows, and even these people themselves were marked with strange lines drawn in blood, distorting the entire space into a bizarre and grotesque sight.
Bane was bound hand and foot, trembling in a corner, witnessing the priests, one after another, being dragged away.
Bane’s face was pale, he knew very well that he was alive not because of the cultists’ benevolence. He had read about such situations in books; the cultists were arranging some evil ritual, and they kept him alive because they needed a living sacrifice.
"God... if you truly exist, why haven’t you delivered divine judgment yet?"
Bane cried silently, praying softly.
The cultists seemed to have heard Bane’s prayers, letting out strange laughter like some mutated birds, mocking him openly.
As the ritual array was gradually completed, the bloody oppressive feeling within the church intensified. The air turned dark and hazy, as if some invisible entity was wriggling in the air.
It existed in another world, but now it had been summoned by the cultists, nearly breaking through the barrier to descend here.
Blood oozed from the walls, the floor, glass, and everything smeared with blood, all seeping blood. The intense cognitive distortion affected Bane, who looked at the golden statues that shed bloody tears, the very things he had served day and night, yet he could no longer name what they were.
Bane knew there was no hope left.
Footsteps echoed as someone emerged from the cellar, Bane struggled to turn his head, barely seeing the person’s appearance.
He wore a black robe and a white doll mask on his face; amidst this bloody hell, the white on his face was strikingly glaring.
"So, Delusional, our deal is done."
Another man walked out of the cellar, extending his hand to the Delusional. The Delusional hesitated for a moment but still reached out his hand.
The man scrutinized the figure before him, trying to see through any flaws, but the Delusional was completely wrapped up. Even the hand he extended wore gloves.
"Those alchemy equipment will play a significant role. I hope you won’t disappoint me." A cold voice sounded from beneath the mask.
"Indeed, we’ve never spared those cultists from the Gray Trade Association. Especially since they stole our holy relic and even dared to sell it."
The man gritted his teeth, in the eyes of this mad cultist, the merchants of the Gray Trade Association were also labeled as cultists, as if these merchants too followed something.
"Are you not afraid? The Gray Trade Association is under the protection of their deity." The Delusional was curious about the man’s courage.
"But beneath our feet, our chosen, most powerful warrior is quietly resting."
The man’s voice carried a hint of fanaticism, his eyes tinted with crimson.
"Oh? Is this your true purpose?" The Delusional seemed to have discerned something.
"Do you know what’s beneath here?"
Noticing the Delusional’s reaction, the man was somewhat surprised. This guy before him knew more than expected, which prompted him to be more vigilant.
"Whatever, it has nothing to do with me. I just want to get what I want... and the truth of the intelligence."
The Delusional had no intention of getting caught up in these madmen’s disputes.
Upon hearing this, the man laughed heartily, while another cultist approached carrying a briefcase.
The man took the briefcase and then handed it over to the Delusional.
"This is what you deserve, the Elixir of Immortality, personally refined by me."
"Oh? It’s personally refined by the Crimson Bishop? That’s really valuable." His words sound terrified, yet the Delusional’s tone remains cold, lacking any trace of reverence.
"And the intelligence you want," as the transaction drew to a close, Crimson Bishop Latis’s voice became low, "it’s true, all those rumors are true."
"The merchants have found a piece of the eldritch fruit and want to offer it to the Great Tyrant."
This brief sentence stirred a tempest within the Delusional’s heart, but fortunately, the mask concealed all his expressions, not a single emotion leaked out.
Turning his head, the Delusional looked at the blood-stained church. The cultists had already dragged Bane out from the corner, placing him among the pile of corpses, preparing for the final ritual.
"Want to see for yourself? How we extract the Elixir of Immortality." Latis asked.
"Calling upon the Devil and then trading with it... or perhaps sacrificing, nothing significant."
The Delusional wasn’t interested, he held the briefcase and prepared to leave. But as he reached the door, he paused and warned Latis.
"The Order Bureau has reached into the Great Rift, and now there are two Field Staff active within it."
"So what?" Latis responded indifferently.
"They are Debtors, one of them has an extremely strong connection with the Devil, meaning the disturbance caused by your summoning will surely catch his attention."
The Delusional pushed the door open to leave, his voice slowly echoed back, hitting Latis’s eardrums.
"They might already be on their way."
Latis furrowed his brow, then ordered the others.
"End the ritual quickly."
The other Cultists nodded in agreement and quickened their arrangements. Amidst a sharp scream, a Dagger pierced through Bane’s palm, nailing him to the ground like a Saint, ignoring his pleas and cries for mercy.
"Belli, you’re in charge here. I’m going to inspect the other rituals, we must quickly extract enough Elixir of Immortality."
Latis instructed one of the Cultists, and Belli nodded, drew the Short Knife from his waist, and moved towards the center of the ritual, preparing for the final blood sacrifice.
Everything proceeded in an orderly fashion, the air thickened with an increasingly intense pungent smell, as if a sea of blood was surging.
Latis, seeing this, also pushed open a door, heading towards another ritual location. As the door closed, the cathedral was sealed off once more.
In the design of Alchemy towards the Void Realm, terms like closure and internal cycle are common. Each Void Realm is absolutely closed, with power circulating endlessly within.
As the Cultists smeared blood on the walls and the floor, it was actually an Alchemy Matrix, incomprehensible to humans, exclusive to the Devil’s power. The blood stains formed a bizarre Void Realm, calling out loudly.
Mad whispers echoed in Bane’s ears, his eyes widened, for a moment he felt detached from reality, as if the cathedral was peeled into a mad Hell.
Amidst painful gasps, he saw it.
Something shadowy squirmed in the air, slowly rotating, until the next moment a dense, complex mirrored surface appeared before him, reflecting his image into countless shattered forms.
This... this was no mirror, no one explained it to Bane, but his mind bizarrely acquired knowledge about it. He understood, it was a gigantic, insect-like compound eye.
"Fresh blood and fresh flesh!"
"Intact bones and complete brains!"
Belli stepped forward and spoke with deep affection to the illusory compound eye, then raised the Short Knife in his hand.
Tears filled Bane’s eyes as he prayed incessantly alongside Belli’s invocation, praying for the deities to rescue him, but there was no response, nothing at all.
Bane’s steadfast faith began to waver, filled with cracks, but it no longer mattered now, for he was about to die.
"We offer all of this to you!"
Belli sang, his expression extremely fervent.
He loudly recited the forbidden name, making the squirming, illusory compound eye seem more real, as if when Belli uttered its name, it would truly descend here.
But Belli couldn’t say it.
A piercing shattering sound disrupted everyone’s thoughts, behind the blood-stained idol, colored glass shattered into countless pieces, breaking the cathedral’s "closure," the illusory compound eye blurred and almost completely dissipated.
Bane watched all this, the glass shards reflecting his image, in a trance as if God really responded to him, sending the Angel of the Fire Sword.
Bologue landed abruptly, the Face of Horror erupted, engulfing nearby Cultists in a swell of fear, leaving them stunned, unable to react.
Bologue then drew the shotgun from his waist, firing at the nearest Cultists, the heavy rain of bullets pinned them against the wall, leaving large blood stains and dense bullet holes.
Palmer, wearing a black hood, followed closely, continuously pulling the trigger, shouting excitedly.
"Order Bureau business! Those who don’t want to die, get out of the way!"