Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 145: Accident
The altar was even more magnificent than Nol had imagined.
Carved from part of a hillside, the Dragon Bone Altar was complex and solemn. Ribs and leg bones were firmly interlocked, with gaps filled with polished bone fragments and dragon scales, forming indestructible steps and platforms.
Under the restraint of heavy chains, a pair of bone wings tightly embraced the altar. The dragon’s head was upright with its mouth wide open. Within the empty eye sockets, two large ruby cores slowly rotated, emitting powerful magic. They supported the nearby protective and concealment magic, securely hiding this place.
From a distance, the skeleton blended seamlessly with the gray-white stones, creating a terrifying harmony.
Knowing the origin of the skeleton, Nol felt no admiration, only disgust.
The free White Dragon Telistam shouldn’t have met such an end.
The walls of the cart filled with offerings fell down, turning into “square wooden bowls”. They were lifted by magic and floated towards the center of the altar.
Beneath the altar, a complex pale magic circle slowly formed. Above the altar, a sinister red magic circle was ready to unleash, its killing intent painfully sharp to the skin.
Under Fischer’s leadership, the priests surrounded the altar, with several layers of Immortal Knight elites on the outside. Curses, resistance circles, illusions, multiple protections… thousands of layers of magical shields tightly sealed the altar.
‘This old pope is frighteningly cautious,’ Nol thought. To break through the protection from the outside and stop the ceremony in a short time, only he or Teest, at full power—and that’s assuming the pope himself doesn’t intervene—could manage it.
Despite the already strong defenses here, Nol lay on the cart of offerings, looking towards the flickering circuits in the magic circle.
The dragon eye gems shone brightly, crimson as blood. The already powerful grand concealment magic was further strengthened. Any magic fluctuations that touched its inner walls vanished instantly, like snowflakes meeting a hot furnace.
Within the protection, winds howled and magic collided. The ominous aura was as thick as paste. Outside, the grass pointed quietly towards the sky, not a single breeze escaped.
…If two hundred years ago, the Eternal Church also had such strong defenses, it’s no wonder the dragons didn’t discover the fall of the White Dragon Telistam. Dragons live so long. Two hundred years for them is like two years for humans.
Perhaps even today, Subelbot is still waiting for that rebellious young White Dragon to return home.
Nol took a deep breath.
Now, this powerful magic that isolated heaven and earth would be an excellent support for him and Teest.
A low and strange chanting came from around the altar. The two magic circles grew brighter.
Clearly, the Eternal Church wasn’t just for show; their sacrifice was simple and brutal—the upper red circle smashed the offerings into a pulp, while the lower white circle prepared to offer this batch of “pure flesh”.
Under the glaring light, Nol slowly clenched and then relaxed his fingers. [Teest.]
Nol’s palm gently covered Teest’s hand.
[I remember.] Teest squeezed his fingers back, his thoughts exceptionally clear amidst the eerie chanting. [I’ll create some chaos, and you’ll take the chance to modify the altar’s “sacrifice judgment,” right?]
[Be careful.]
[I have “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. You don’t have to worry.]
[Be careful, Teest.] Nol stubbornly repeated. [Please prioritize your safety. If things go south, abandon this investigation.]
Teest’s hand moved in his palm.
[You don’t have to say it. I would do that anyway.]
Teest scratched his palm. [Honey, I’m off.]
The next second, the warmth under Nol’s hand vanished. Teest concealed his presence and lightly jumped off the cart. “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” fully activated, along with False God level strength, his departure was lighter than drying dew.
At the same time, in the most peripheral position of the encirclement.
An Eternal Priest was focused on chanting when suddenly, a pair of slender hands climbed onto his neck, cold as a python’s wrap.
“Hello.” A breathy voice said in his ear. “Help me out, will you?”
That was the last thing he heard in this world. The next second, Teest silently snapped his neck. But his magic fluctuated only for a moment before calming down again.
Deep in the priest’s pupils, blue fire slowly burned. Teest quietly hid in his shadow, his lips curving up in pleasure.
He looked towards the cart where Nol was, silently counting down.
Five, four, three, two… one.
The blood-red circle blazed brightly, but at the moment it activated, the servant of his, a necromancer, made a ludicrous “mistake”—the angle of the magic circle shifted, and the fatal strike skewed, hitting the opposite side diagonally. It grazed High Priest Fischer before exploding.
The chanting abruptly ceased.
In less than ten seconds, a third of the Eternal Church’s unbreakable protective circle was gone. Under the magic array, whether it was Eternal Priests or Immortal Knights, all were turned into bloody mush.
High Priest Fischer hadn’t even “had the chance” to react when those masses of flesh and blood surged and took shape, lunging at the nearest living person.
A new web of slaughter formed above the crowd. Teest leaped down from a golden thread, looking like a feather falling in the snow.
In the chaos below, he spread his arms, fingertips twinkling with golden light. Brilliant golden fire ignited, and on the blood-soaked land, he twirled lightly—enemies alive one second, dead captives the next.
Around his dance-like steps, screams and roars were unending. The soil, soaked with blood, became slick and slimy. Teest stepped over this mire, freely reaping in the chaos.
Noticing the turmoil at the center, the Immortal Knights and Eternal Priests, who were originally responsible for the surroundings, hurried over. More death, more puppets… Well, it was unnatural for Fischer to be the only one alive; he had to deliberately spare a few useless ones…
Throughout, Teest’s gaze never left the pope at the top of the altar steps.
Teest was naturally not exerting his full strength; the powers of the [King of Eternal Sleep] and the False God were still in his grasp—the battlefield was in chaos for a full sixty seconds, yet the old pope remained unmoved. This wasn’t a good sign.
Above the altar, the old pope looked down at the melee with indifference, as if those dying weren’t his subordinates but insignificant bugs. Even after seeing High Priest Fischer injured, his gaze remained undisturbed.
“An interesting idea,” the old pope said after watching the tragedy for two minutes, raising his hand.
The temperature nearby dropped rapidly, and a thin mist formed over the blood-covered ground. Shadows emerged from the mist, resembling black goats. On closer inspection, their edges were twisted beyond recognition, making their facial features impossible to count. Just a few more seconds of observation could make one’s head spin.
The flock of goats wandered leisurely among the fighting soldiers.
Whether it was a living person gasping or Teest’s undead monster army, touching a black goat would cause them to disintegrate into fist-sized lumps of flesh, twitching and squirming in all directions.
No matter how Teest commanded, the lumps of flesh remained unmoved—clearly, they were neither alive nor undead.
The surviving Eternalists closed their eyes and fled, making way for the surging black flock of goats. The brownish-red lumps of flesh jumped chaotically, emitting faint, indistinct screams.
On the silent altar, the sacrifices slept deeply.
Taking advantage of the time Teest had bought, Nol finally cracked the magic array below. Using the [Creator’s] authority, he changed the requirement to activate the array from “fresh and pure human flesh” to “fresh flesh”.
Next…
Nol raised his hand towards the back of the old pope and specifically cast [Breath of the False God]. An anomaly appeared on the pope’s back, pausing his spellcasting for a moment to look sideways.
And in that instant, Teest rushed forward, getting behind the old pope.
With several thrusts, the “Betrayer” fluidly pierced through the eye sockets, slit the throat, and plunged deeply into the pope’s heart. To ensure the complete extermination of this ancient scourge, the “Betrayer’s” blades released a frenzy of the Demon King’s corruption, corroding the pope’s flesh and blood.
This was the ideal plan that Teest and Nol had concocted. Not even the old pope, let alone False God Nol, could survive such a combination attack without facing a life-threatening crisis.
Next, he just needed to use his profession’s skill to turn the old pope into a puppet…
The legend that had ruled the Eternal Church for hundreds of years, the highest target, was now bleeding in his hands.
Teest’s heart raced, the hunt making his blood surge uncontrollably. His hair stood on end, and his skin emitted waves of heat.
One second, two seconds.
Despite the influx of corruption, the sense of domination unique to the dead didn’t appear. Teest’s brow furrowed, only to see the old pope’s arms twist in an anatomically impossible manner to grab his arms.
With a snap, the old thing’s head turned 180 degrees, its black veil fluttering lightly.
“Got you, little mouse.” His tone was flat, as if squeezed from a dead throat.
Teest tensed up. In his exhilarated brain, countless thoughts sparked.
The pope exuded an aura akin to that of a False God—weaker than Nol and himself, but of a very similar nature. This guy was much stronger than Teest and Nol had anticipated.
Something’s wrong, terribly wrong. How could the Eternal Church, with such a formidable Pope, have become the weaker party?
Without going into details, even if this Pope were to go alone to the Temple of Life, Painter wouldn’t stand a chance against him.
Like now—his hands gripped like iron clamps. With the dreadful strength of a Doom Knight, he still couldn’t break free.
Things were going south.
Teest no longer intended to hold back; he instinctively wanted to create distance. However, as soon as the thought of casting a spell arose, it silently fell through—
Unbeknownst to him, a creepy and terrifying flock of black sheep had encircled Teest. They stared at him intently with countless eyes, solidly blocking any escape.
At the altar, the moment Teest was captured, Nol almost shot up into the air. But having been a non-combatant for so many years, Nol’s reaction was half a beat slow—a hand firmly grasped his shoulder, pressing him down.
“That geezer doesn’t plan to kill him just yet. Calm down.”
Painter squeezed next to him, whispering almost silently, “If he wanted to kill, he would have acted sooner, not setting up this complicated situation. He’s curious, and Mr. Mad Monk also knows that he is curious.”
“No more forced probing.”
Nol brushed off Painter’s hand. “I can’t let Teest bear all the risk while I stand by and watch.”
“No, no, you misunderstand.” Painter smiled. “Though my strength is negligible, I don’t want you to bear all the risks either.”
“The ‘unknown’ is the hardest to deal with. You two are my trump cards. If something happens to you, we’re all done for—let me do the probing. You find the best moment to act.”
Without waiting for Nol’s response, Painter stood up from the carriage—literally stood up, transforming back into the tall, skinny Pope of 1.9 meters. Dressed in Sister Holly’s clothes, he looked utterly ridiculous.
Seeing his former adversary in this state, the Eternal Pope hesitated for half a second.
“Seeing is believing. I’ve been curious about you for a long time.”
Painter casually adjusted the nun’s attire, his hair returning to its normal red. “It’s a pity that young man couldn’t finish you off.”
“Godfrey Painter.” The old Pope’s attention was indeed diverted from Teest in part.
“Whether it’s your flock or your undead physique, the ‘flavor’ is off. It doesn’t look like normal magic.”
Painter kicked away a screaming piece of flesh as if it were a common stone. “My guess, is this a special gift from Lord Anstis?”
“Sharp.” The old Pope was sparing with words. “But you’re too noisy, Painter.”
‘It seems like two divinely granted abilities outside the system,’ Nol thought.
The flock goes without saying, and the undead physique… even players have to pay a price for death—a strict rule of the system. The Eternal Son can’t defy the system, so—
Nol expanded his senses, indeed discovering several bizarre corpses in the distance—brains oozing from shattered eye sockets, severed carotid arteries, hearts pierced, and viscera emitting the scent of the Demon King’s corruption.
The three corpses were scattered in different corners of the battlefield, completely mixed in with the shattered flesh and viscera on the ground, firmly obscured by bouncing chunks of meat. If not for Nol’s acute sensitivity to the scent of death, they would have gone unnoticed for a while.
…A skill that pays the death penalty on behalf of others?
The situation became more complicated. Dozens of Eternalists were still alive, including Fischer.
No one knew the “selection rules” for the death penalty. With an aura almost like a False God, and backed by the Eternal Son, picking a scapegoat randomly would put everyone at risk.
A strategy had to be devised quickly. Nol kept his body low, watching the battlefield intently.
On the other side, just as the geezer’s attention was about to return to Teest, Painter sighed loudly, “That’s your precious Chosen One. Are you sure this is the right way to treat him?”
The old Pope reacted quickly. “The Mad Monk.”
Hearing it was about the Chosen One, he eased his grip on Teest’s hand slightly. Teest blinked, pretending to be overwhelmed, staying still.
Painter clapped loudly. “Correct! This gentleman previously visited Paradise for fun. I specially invited him to see you—none of us want to follow the weaker party, so we arranged a little entertainment. Don’t be upset.”
“Desecrating the sacrifice, is this your show of submission?” the old Pope said slowly, his tone full of sarcasm.
“No, no, no. Think of it this way—how important the sacrifice must be, if just the two of us could disrupt it, we obviously need to reconsider our submission.”
Painter wagged his finger, not a drop of sweat on his forehead. “Mr. Mad Monk and I have never been ones to play by the rules, right?”
With that, the former Pope cleared his throat in a serious manner. “This way, not only can we demonstrate our strength to you, but we also help you weed out those lacking in ability. You know, this is called a win-win situation.”
“Well, I don’t accept ‘win-win’,” the old Pope replied indifferently. “I don’t have time to play with children. Get to the point, Painter.”
For a moment, Painter’s gaze became complicated. “My purpose has been achieved.”
The old Pope watched him quietly. The flock around him slowly turned, with more eyes facing Painter. Painter decisively looked away, not wanting to see those eerie black goats.
“Because the Mad Monk is the ‘Chosen One of the Eternal Son’, I can completely understand your softened attitude—but you know I’m the ‘Chosen One of the Goddess of Life’, and you didn’t immediately take my life, continuing our conversation… haha.”
The two young ones may not know, but Painter was well aware.
This Pope had controlled the Eternal Church for many years, with extremely limited curiosity and little interest in most worldly affairs.
In other words, the other party just wanted to know the motive, which was enough to spare Teest’s life.
The fact that the old Pope didn’t immediately kill him, an “enemy Chosen One”, meant…
“You also know, ‘Chosen Ones’ are inherently ownerless.”
Painter paused for two seconds. Seeing the old Pope didn’t respond, he continued methodically, “Because of that ridiculous oracle, even though I defected from the Temple, there are still people in the Temple who believe I will ‘return from my lost ways’. In fact, I have no loyalty left for Tilia.”
“Looking at it, Lord Anstis is quite righteous. At least He didn’t hide it from you.”
“Oracle.” The Eternal Pope finally spoke up.
“You mean…”
“My God didn’t summon you to Eternity. Your oracle must not be suitable here. Now, present your oracle. Prove your value to me,” the Eternal Pope said.
His hands still firmly grasped Teest.
“I could tell you, but how will you verify its authenticity?”
Painter crossed his arms, revealing a small faceless god idol from the torn nun’s attire.
“This is Lord Anstis’ altar.” A slight smile finally appeared on the rigid face of the Eternal Pope. “God will watch. God will witness. Lies will have their price.”
“Alright, since you’ve put it that way. Actually, the core part of my oracle is very short, indeed not as, um, special as others.”
Painter sighed deeply.
“‘His existence brings glory to God, and his disappearance will fulfill divinity’… Just that.”
The author has something to say:
The great reveal of Painter’s oracle!
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