Wayne didn’t even know what to say. To save face for the Heavenly Father’s Court, let’s blame this mess on the Windsor Royal Family. If it weren’t for the Royal Family’s harsh oppression, reducing the Church to having only one supreme leader, the Archbishop, the Holy See wouldn’t have experienced such a talent drain and be humiliated by the Devil’s minions.
Following this train of thought, Wayne thought of Dean Julian and the group of Theological Seminary scholars visiting the church.
If he wasn’t mistaken, the whole army had been wiped out, every single one of them turned into puppets of the Devil.
If you dare to think a bit bolder, the Thousand-Eyed Demon’s summoning ritual is already underway.
I hope there’s still time!
"Bishop Keith has been acting especially strange today. There were several occasions right under my eyes when I actually failed to notice..."
Wayne stepped on the gas pedal to speed up, slapping himself in hindsight the more he thought about it.
I’ve been wanting to hit you for more than a day or two!
Because of his usual leniency towards himself, the slap was very light when it landed on his face, merely a touch.
Half an hour later, the car arrived at University City. After such back-and-forth, it was already five o’clock in the afternoon, which meant Philark’s carefully prepared hot pot was off the table.
Wayne’s face wore a look of frustration, time waits for no one, and with one slow step, the Devil might descend. He didn’t go to the Naturalism Church outpost but headed straight to Saint Dominic Cathedral with a pistol in hand.
Bishop Keith stood in front of the crucifix confessing. After being controlled by Sigma, he would at times be engulfed in confusion, not knowing for what he was confessing, just knowing he should do so.
Sigma could manipulate his thoughts but couldn’t completely turn his will. Compared to the group from Theological Seminary, who’d become the most faithful worshippers of the Devil.
"Bishop Keith, what are you confessing?"
Wayne strode into the church, stopping five meters away from Keith.
Keith trembled and turned in surprise, "Mister Wayne, how come... you’re back again?"
"I came across a car accident on the road, and a few unwise guys trying a scam. Out of anger, I killed them all. My sins are heavy. I’ve come to the church to confess to the Heavenly Father, hoping he will forgive my sins," Wayne said icily.
Keith’s gaze darted around hesitantly.
With such poor acting, Wayne grew more certain. He raised an eyebrow, "Bishop Keith, could you take me to the warehouse? It’s crowded here, and I have something to ask you."
Keith nodded repeatedly, walking briskly and then jogging ahead; Wayne hurried to keep up and, before entering the warehouse, reminded Keith not to forget to sign.
Wayne stood in the first area, not venturing further back, where numerous sculptures and art pieces were displayed, as well as replicas of ancient knight armor.
He sniffed. Along the way, he hadn’t smelled anything unusual, and his tense nerves relaxed slightly.
There was still time; the Devil’s summoning ritual had not yet begun.
"Bishop Keith, where is the Thousand-Eyed Demon’s statue, and what do you think about the Devil’s summoning ritual?"
Wayne pressed closer step by step, pulling out his pistol and moving toward Keith, "Personally, I think if the summoning ritual were held within the church, it would be too brazen. Thus, the Theological Seminary is undoubtedly a better location."
"Mr. Wayne, you’re overexcited, put the gun away."
Keith’s demeanor changed dramatically, losing the panic from earlier. He smiled, taking out a Bible and signaling Wayne not to provoke a clergyman within the church walls.
"You also know we’re inside a church!"
Wayne looked into Keith’s eyes and abruptly fired two shots. The bullets hit to the left and right sides of Keith, who stood unflinchingly without any attempt to dodge.
"Thinking you could trick me into killing a bishop of the Holy See, it’s not that easy."
Wayne put away his gun and charged at Keith with a stride, his speed so fast it created a blur of an afterimage.
Keith’s spells failed to hit the mark, and before he could react, he took a fierce punch to the face, blood gushed from his nose and mouth, and he was violently overturned, his head banging hard against the wall.
The wall now sported several fractures.
Wayne didn’t attack again; he took out a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his fist and stood observing the changes in Keith’s expression, shaking his head in disappointment upon seeing the other’s bloodthirsty look.
They say that the Great Memory Restoration is a counter to mind control, sure to cure hypnosis and illusions. How come it’s not working with him?
Or maybe if I change position and land a few more punches?
Urgent footsteps sounded, and Wayne turned to see nearly twenty clergy members from the Church approaching, each holding Bibles and crucifixes, without a word they began reciting psalms and initiating Holy Light Magic.
Their chants merged into one continuous voice, as the power of holiness slowly gathered.
Wayne raised his gun and fired, the bullet colliding with the luminous barrier in mid-air, its speed abruptly slowed until it dropped to the ground, its momentum exhausted.
He didn’t try with his fists; instead, the green light in his eyes burst forth.
In the backyard, plants grew at breakneck speed, as countless roots and vines broke through the soil, winding around the bodies of the clergy, penetrating their throats to disrupt their spellcasting, and binding them up tightly like rice dumplings.
The protective magic shield instantly dissipated, and innumerable vines surged into the warehouse, tying up Bishop Keith who was standing there, dumbfounded.
The mages of the Naturalism Church who were surrounded by the garden, if not brave, must have been under a collective stupidity aura.
"Come out, I caught your stench back in Lundan."
Mister Wayne fixed his gaze toward the corner of the corridor, "Of course, you can keep hiding..."
He curled his lips, speaking with full malice, "Guess whether I have called Lundan to notify Heavenly Father’s Court that someone is preparing for the Hell Evil God’s descent ritual."
At the end of the corridor, Sigma, adorned in a black robe, emerged, his face too blurred to make out, "Respected Pastor, I haven’t meant to offend the Naturalism Church..."
A fierce wave of fire rushed down, bolstered by the Tempest, with an incredibly grand momentum.
Sigma’s legs were entwined by vines, and he was unable to dodge in time, merely watching as the torrential wave of fire flooded the corridor and rolled towards him, threateningly.
Outside the church, passersby only heard a loud bang, followed by billowing black smoke rising from within the church, as if something had exploded.
The corridor in front of the warehouse was shattered, filled with thick smoke, debris scattered everywhere, and the wall facing the warehouse was scorched black and half-collapsed.
Sigma stood calmly in the heated air, lifting his hand to look at it, amazed by the extraordinary nature of the Saint’s Shroud; with this Evil Instrument, elemental magic couldn’t harm him in the slightest.
Wayne looked at his enemy, unharmed, and after a brief silence, he raised his hand and fired a shot.
Sigma only had time to raise his arm, fingers spread, not yet releasing his spell, when the bullet pierced his palm and hit his undistinct face.
Instantly, this continuously changing face violently started to twitch.
The enemy did not fall. Wayne continued pulling the trigger until he emptied the magazine, then he discarded the useless gun and, with one hand, wielded the Tempest, infusing the Parasitic Spores into every corner of the backyard.
Sigma’s face kept twitching. With each shot that hit, a face would flicker and vanish. By the time Wayne’s magazine was empty, Sigma stood unscathed, except for a few bullet casings at his feet.
Parasitic mushrooms blossomed on Sigma, drawing out his vitality and thriving, then secreting more spores to cause a second and third onslaught.
Myriad tiny spores were inhaled by Sigma, swelling his chest and abdomen and then burrowing out through his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes.
Soon, a tree-like being covered in fungus fully grew into form.
Wayne frowned silently, and as he watched, Sigma snapped his fingers, with flames swirling around him. He stepped forward, and once again, he was completely unscathed.
Such a strange Immortal Body!
Instead of immortality, it’s more like the enemy had been killed by him over and over again, each time resurrecting fully healed.
"Pastor, may I ask you a question?"
Sigma’s blurred face faced Wayne, politely asking, "If we switched names on the day we were born, would you and I switch places today? From my perspective, would you become me?"
What is this, philosophy?
Wayne sneered, striding toward Sigma, "I’m quite satisfied with my name, and as for you, changing your name a thousand times won’t alter your fate of dying today."
Within five steps, Wayne raised his fist.
Sigma smiled faintly, his face showing countless other faces, all of which suddenly lunged at Wayne’s face.
Each of these faces had its own thoughts, each was an independent self, yet each was also highly collective. They called out in unison, urging Wayne to merge with the collective, to merge into rebirth.
Countless thoughts mixed together, orderly yet utterly chaotic, the piercing noise making one’s head spin, uncontrollably joining the chants.
Seeing the fist stop, Sigma’s smile grew wider.
Another self had been born.
The fist landed heavily, smashing into Sigma’s face, freezing the smiling face into distortion.
"Shut up with your chattering, it’s so annoying!"
Today is the first, asking for a monthly ticket at the beginning of the month.