Chapter 382: The Holy City (VIII) Flor

The young priest possessed the most devout faith and could hear the voice of God, but religion had long ceased to be the worship of God, becoming instead a means of oppression and self-interest.

The priest walked throughout the city, witnessing conflicts between clerics and believers. Returning to the temple, he spoke to the deity he worshipped: “Lord, I see clerics wantonly collecting wealth from believers to adorn their own residences; I see bishops deceiving innocent maidens merely to satisfy their lust; I see Your believers suffering and wish to stop those who falsely spread Your will!”

The God, having distributed its authority, seemed to have exhausted its past love for its believers, and only calmly and indifferently said to the priest: “Go, I will not interfere, nor will I observe. But you must know the insignificance of individual strength, the difficulty of reversing the tide of history. As long as humanity harbors baseness, suffering will not cease.”

Humans are born with original sin; greed is boundless, and the pursuit of profit is instinct. But just because it has always been this way does not mean it is right; someone needs to change it. The priest sighed, “But no one is born to be a beast.”

God no longer spoke, conveying an attitude of tacit approval. The priest left the temple, relying on its remaining authority to spread new doctrines and laws.

When deception and oppression finally disappeared from this land, smiles returned to the faces of the believers; they believed God was benevolent, no longer revering God, but beginning to flaunt their own desires.

The priest returned to the temple, searching everywhere but unable to find God’s figure. More terrifying than slumber was disappearance.

God had departed. After believers no longer faithfully worshipped God, the Holy City became a godless city.

However, the priest knew that the Holy City could be without anything, but it absolutely should not be without a God who could shelter them… The players followed Priest Lachi, bypassing the tall, downward-gazing statue on the right side of the long table, and entered a narrow corridor shrouded in shadow.

The reliefs carved into the walls on both sides of the corridor were worn, and door openings were deeply embedded in the walls, like mottled scars on the stone bricks of a tomb passage.

There were six doors on both the left and right sides, matching the players’ seating arrangement at the long table, with numbers marked in Arabic numerals on the stone slabs above. At the end of the corridor was a stone door marked with the number “0”.

The players instinctively found their respective rooms according to their previous seats in the hall. Asakura Yuko lifted her eyelids and glanced at the 【Heretic】 card in the upper right corner of her vision, suddenly realizing a problem: Heretics could kill at night, but how exactly should they do it?

In any case, knowing the rooms of each player would provide considerable convenience for killing, even allowing for precise targeting of who to kill.

She wasn’t the only one who realized this. The tall woman smiled and asked, “Father, must we enter the corresponding numbered rooms? I hear it can be dangerous at night, and I’m quite scared. I wonder if I can share a room with my friend?”

Priest Lachi spread his hands: “Of course, you can go to other people’s rooms at night to discuss, but when danger arrives, guests in the rooms will be more susceptible to danger.”

He changed his tone, the smile on his face becoming inscrutable: “However, staying in your own room might not necessarily mean you won’t encounter danger. Ever since the great Holy Lord fell into slumber, the temple is no longer certainly safe.”

After the Holy Lord fell into slumber? The players recalled the image of Zis, who had been a player, waking up from his dream on the main seat, looking weary, when they first entered the temple. They truly couldn’t understand why a deity NPC sleeping would have such a significant impact on the instance.

But soon, new doubts arose in their minds: could there be more than one Holy Lord? Was Zis, who was once a player, truly the “Holy Lord” mentioned in the instance’s background story?

Of course, this was not something the current players needed to consider. Fujiwara Xinya looked at Fu Jue, suggesting with a half-smile, “Since there’s danger everywhere, why don’t two of us share a room? One high-ranked player can pair with a lower-ranked one, so we can look out for each other if something happens…”

Fu Jue quietly scanned him and said, “This is a faction game. Assuming there are indeed four heretics, the probability of any two people belonging to the same faction is only seventeen out of thirty-three.”

“We are all humans. With the final instance at hand, there’s no need for factional infighting,” Fujiwara Xinya said. “However, we can follow the principle of voluntariness and choose whether to share a room with others.”

Such a proposal was reasonable, and several players who knew they were lower-ranked began to approach those in the top hundred, but Asakura Yuko was not among them.

She had detected a subtle sense of incongruity.

Normally, even if they decided to cooperate, players wouldn’t immediately establish a leadership plan; even if someone lacked confidence and wanted to share a room, they would discuss it privately, not advocate it publicly like this.

After all, they were all ranked players. Except for the clearly dominant Fu Jue, most others likely wouldn’t submit to anyone, and they had a certain image to uphold, unwilling to reveal a cautious side.

But in this instance, the establishment of the leadership plan was too smooth, as if it had been rehearsed countless times, including the current room-sharing arrangement.

—It was as if someone had conspired to set up a trap.

“More internal strife? Attacking fellow players before even understanding the instance mechanics, what a boring and utterly foolish group of people.” Asakura Yuko retracted her gaze and walked directly into Room 11, closing the door.

And the moment the stone door completely sealed shut, a faint black smoke spread out in all directions from beneath her feet as if alive, sealing the walls and ceiling within a few short seconds.

【Identity Card hidden effect ‘Ideal State’ has been triggered. Based on recorded historical entries, this trigger will last for 1 minute.】

【Note: Philosophers chasing forbidden knowledge fall one after another, and when the undead gather, they form the Ideal State of knowledge.】

This was the most special aspect of the 【Forbidden Scholar】 card: all who had ever held this identity card, their souls, undying after death, would gather in the card’s space, providing guidance and enlightenment to those who came after.

In the center of the room, a young man with long hair and a long trench coat appeared as a phantom. He looked left and right, his gaze falling upon Asakura Yuko, a brilliant smile on his face: “Beautiful Yuko, long time no see, you’ve become even prettier, but your clothes are too ordinary, they can’t highlight your unique temperament…”

“Senior Xiao,” Asakura Yuko interrupted coldly, “We only have one minute, please get straight to the point.”

“Alright, alright, you’re the boss now as the identity card holder.” The man referred to as “Senior Xiao” reined in his smile and helplessly raised a finger. “I can only provide three pieces of information: First, if you can die, then die; where there’s life, there’s hope. Second, be careful of Zis; if I remember correctly, he’s also in this instance. Third, be careful of the Ancestral God.”

Zis, or Siji, is the Holy Lord of this instance, so naturally, one should be careful. But why use the past tense phrase “if I remember correctly”?

Also… what’s with the Ancestral God? When did this instance ever have a connection with the Ancestral God?

Senior Xiao paused, adding: “Time’s almost up. One last, most important personal piece of advice: absolutely, absolutely do not enter the final instance! Not even if you die! I’ve had a few encounters with that White Crow beauty of yours, and all I can say is she’s quite ruthless…”

…On the other side, the players had settled on their room arrangements, pushed open their stone doors, and entered.

William stood in his room, back rigid, his gaze moving vigilantly, observing every part of the room.

The windowless room was dimly lit, with a stone bed, cold and hard-looking, placed in the center. Aside from a quilt made of coarse cloth, there was only a brick-like stone pillow, which at first glance resembled an execution platform more than a bed. A faint, almost imperceptible smell of blood permeated the air, but when one tried to pinpoint it, it dissipated, as if the previous sensation was merely an illusion caused by psychological suggestion.

A dirty oil lamp sat on the stone bedside table, flickering weakly, providing minimal illumination. After William watched it for two seconds, a prompt appeared above it:

【Name: Light (Consumes 1 Spark per use)】

【Type: Item (Cannot be taken out of the instance)】

【Effect: Holder can go out to explore in the dark (lasts one day)】

【Note: Will you cling to a dying hope, cowering before impending doom; or will you stake everything, embracing darkness and death?】

William walked over, gripped the lamp’s bronze handle, and felt his mood relax slightly.

“It seems that even non-Heretics can go out and explore in the dark, as long as they make good use of this item… No wonder. I was thinking, how could this Faction Dungeon pin the hope of the main quest on only one faction?

“But the requirement to consume Kindling is a bit troublesome. It seems quite difficult to acquire Kindling right now, and I don’t even know how much Kindling is needed to unlock the main quest ending, let alone wasting it in places with uncertain returns…”

He muttered to himself, lying on the bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. He had been a Pastor in reality for a while, and even after returning to secular life, his habit of worrying about others hadn’t changed.

Even if many things were unrelated to him and not his responsibility, he couldn’t help but take them upon himself, exhausting himself thinking about how to solve them, and earnestly persuading everyone to heed his advice.

This had caused him a lot of trouble in reality; he even entered the Eerie Game because an impatient robber had smashed half his head. But fortunately, the Eerie Game was different from reality. Most players were happy to have a leader step forward and take responsibility, finally giving his personality a chance to shine.

At this moment, William couldn’t help but start calculating how to allocate the Kindling to maximize efficiency, assuming each player could only obtain one piece. He then sadly realized that in a Faction Game, players would likely not follow his coordination… Unconsciously, time reached the latter half of the night. William stared wide-eyed at the ceiling when his peripheral vision suddenly caught a strange ray of light, emerging from a corner of the ceiling above and falling directly onto the bed.

“Does this room actually have a skylight?”

William turned his face toward the light source, looked closely, and his pupils suddenly contracted.

It turned out not to be a window, but the face of an Idol carved into the wall. Its eyes shot out a crimson light, and its mouth was continuously opening and closing, as if biting something… It was an arm, a human arm. With a “crunching” sound, the Idol chewed and swallowed the bone along with the flesh, its mouth dripping with blood and grease… Zhis sat in the Temple Hall, listening. After the players entered the corridor, the sound of discussion lasted for a while before fading, and the sound of footsteps became sparse, indicating they had likely entered their respective rooms.

Night descended upon the Holy City. The entire world returned to the domain of darkness. Believers whose souls were rooted by blood-colored vines huddled in houses with tightly shut doors, their eyes closed, their vision sinking into pitch blackness.

Flor’s corpse crawled out of the Graveyard, mingling with the corpse horde and wandering the land. Zhis saw the night of the Holy City through his eyes.

Countless corpses appeared in every corner. The flesh and blood on their bodies scattered like withered petals, only to be drawn to one spot by some invisible force, merging into a massive Flesh Tumor.

The Flesh Tumor rolled rapidly along the city’s main avenue, devouring all flesh and bones along the way. The Authority Fragments, originally scattered as pale gold light points, converged around it. Golden blood vessels protruded from the grayish-white decaying flesh, pulsating open and closed.

In one instant, the blood vessels spread into a seamless expanse. From a distance, it looked like a golden Fruit of the World. Suddenly, light appeared between heaven and earth. The rays flowed aimlessly in all directions, like fireworks splashed out after a planet crashed into the sun. After exploding in the air, they grew into phantoms of golden vines, wrapping the golden sphere within.

Zhis knew what that was. Images flashed back rapidly: the boundless World Tree, the magnificent and solemn Temple, the blurry phantom of a god, a long table lit by only one candle, an eye wriggling with flesh and tentacles in the sky, and falling fire from the heavens… He knew that was the infant form of a god; before he was born beneath the World Tree, he had also been a fruit like this.

“So it’s here…” Zhis smiled.

The former Holy Lord granted Authority to the believers to share, so the Time-Space Authority was dispersed within the flesh and blood of every believer. But now, someone wanted to regather the Time-Space Authority to create a new god.

What the starting point and motive were no longer mattered. What mattered was that a monster was being born in the Holy City, and no one knew when it would awaken.

“You cannot control Him.” Zhis glanced sideways at Father Laki, who was standing in the shadows, and made his judgment. “After completing the initial steps, He gained consciousness and instinct. On the night of every offering collection, He will descend and feed. Therefore, you couldn’t even stop… me from discovering His existence.”

Father Laki remained silent, his gray-blue eyes against the light looking sinister and cold.

Zhis watched him for two seconds, his smile widening: “You don’t actually need to be so wary of me. I can generally understand your thinking. You believe their lives come from God, but they are not entirely devout, and thus you regret even more having begged the weakened God for blessings back then.”

“And now that God has vanished, in your view, they should offer their flesh and blood to reshape God’s Authority and allow God to descend again. I highly approve of your idea, and perhaps I can tell you some necessary steps you don’t know—so, do you wish to pray to me?”

Historical silhouettes materialized in the void. The Temple, having lost its god, was lonely and silent, yet the Clerics continued to act arbitrarily, committing atrocities in the name of the divine.

The dissatisfaction of the believers increased daily, and conflict erupted. In a city without a god, the Clerics would lose their purpose.

But just then, ferocious-looking monsters rushed into the Holy City, wantonly destroying houses and devouring flesh and blood… Thus, the people realized they needed a god.

The Father remained silent for a long time before sighing, “I don’t believe in your benevolence.”

“But caution is useless, and I do share common interests with you, such as wanting to kill those outsiders.” Zhis said, tilting his head and smiling. “You need the existence of a god, while I only need His Authority. A god who has lost Authority is ultimately better than a half-dead monster, isn’t He?”

He spoke in a casually suggestive tone, clearly discussing the terms of a deal, yet it sounded like aimless small talk, making it easy for people to forget his identity and perceive him as an easygoing friend.

The Father asked, “What can you give me, and what do you require of me?”

“I know you don’t care about the lives of those believers. The only reason you’re just having them donate flesh and blood is due to the constraints of the rules. And I, perhaps, can convert them into Heretics who can be nailed to a Cross and executed.” Zhis casually flipped open the book page in front of him; the three large characters for “Heretic” were hideous and striking.

He bent his finger and gently tapped the tabletop, smiling, “As for what I need… perhaps I’m just as eager as you are for the resurrection of my old friend.”

This was a deception. Li was currently not in mortal danger, aside from being tricked by him into reality and unable to return; even if Father Laki truly sacrificed all the city’s believers, Li would likely be unable to emerge from Chang Xu’s body… But Zhis spoke with such sincerity that Father Laki, based on his current knowledge, clearly couldn’t fathom the truth behind it.

Outside the Temple, Flor’s corpse was already waiting at the door. Zhis lifted his eyelids, glanced at Father Laki, and said, “Go open the door.”

Father Laki complied with a calm expression. Through the gap in the opened door, one could glimpse the terrifying scene of a chaotic dance of corpses outside.

Flor, staring with vacant eyes, walked into the Temple. He was permeated with the stench of decay, dripping sand from the Graveyard, and quickly left a shocking streak of filth on the clean Hall floor.

Zhis raised his right hand. The historical page inscribed with the word “Heretic” landed in his arms, bursting with a crimson beam of light.

“From now on, you are a Heretic.”

The faction identity was successfully transferred. Everyone could be an incarnation of the Scarlet High Priest, including the believers of the Foreign God.

Following the appearance of the new Heretic, an announcement from the rules swirled around the Temple’s dome:

【You are a Believer of the Night. Please go out and select a target】

【If you are sure who you want to kill, knock three times on the door】

Flor staggered into the corridor behind the Idol and stopped in front of Room 12—which was Fu Jue’s room.

He raised his hand and gently knocked on the stone door.

“Thump, thump, thump.”

【You have killed the player in Room 12】

Zhis listened to the voice of the rules with a smile, not truly believing that Fu Jue could be killed simply by exploiting the dungeon mechanism. But so what?

Trying to make a low-probability choice is an interesting thing in itself, isn’t it?