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The spiral staircase seemed endless.
Ian, transformed into a Raven, followed silently, always keeping to the shadows thirty steps behind. His raven eyes could not only see but also cast a subtle magic known as "Trace of the Path." Every seven steps, he left behind an almost invisible silver rune in the air, like a hidden pattern.
This was the embodiment of extreme caution.
Ian was always prepared for unexpected danger. He noticed that the distribution of moss on the walls was not random; every seven steps, there was an especially dense patch.
These moss clusters were clearly unnatural. At every seventh step, a thick, slightly oval-shaped clump appeared with faint luminescence along its edges.
Together, they formed a kind of counting system or perhaps signified something being born, connected to the number seven, a mystical number in the world of Harry Potter.
At the end of the spiral staircase, cold, damp air rushed forward, carrying a strange mix of rot and sickly sweetness.
The Ghost Bride dragged the Scepter Priest by his ankle, leaving a winding trail of blood across the moss-covered stone steps. The priest's white robe was already in tatters. His emaciated fingers clawed desperately into the stone's cracks, splitting his nails, yet he felt nothing.
"Please...don't...I can do many things for you. I'm very useful..." the priest croaked. His voice was no longer human, and his single eye was bloodshot.
The Ghost Bride gave no response. Her red bridal veil glowed faintly like blood in the darkness. Her steps were mechanical and precise, landing exactly on the densest moss nodes.
In raven form, Ian glided silently, his sharp gaze capturing every detail; the moss patterns clearly formed inverted eyes of Horus.
"Forty-nine…" Ian counted silently. When the seventh cycle of seven steps was complete, the view suddenly opened. The staircase had finally ended.
At the end of the staircase stood a massive door inlaid with human bones.
The doorframe was made of seven types of bones, including ribs arranged in spirals and finger bones formed into pictograms.
The most horrifying part was the doorknob: at the center of two crossed femurs was a living human eyeball that rotated slowly. Its pupil contracted with an eerie glimmer of intelligence.
Clearly, this was no place for anything righteous.
"I swear! I swear loyalty! I can write new scriptures for you! I can gather all the priests to submit! Please, don't devour me. I have value! I can still be of use..."
The Scepter Priest's voice echoed through the narrow staircase, but there was no response, only the soft, wind-like footsteps of the Ghost Bride and the faint rustling of her wedding dress trailing behind her.
Like the whisper of death itself.
Under Ian's hidden observation...
The Ghost Bride stopped.
She released the priest and extended her pale hand. Suddenly, her fingernails grew three inches long and sliced open her wrist like blades.
Blue-black blood dripped onto the eyeball.
The pupil shrank violently, and a dull, mechanical sound came from within the door.
"Witness...return..." The Ghost Bride's voice became layered and overlapping, but Ian could discern the shrill pitch of the Embryo within the fluctuating tones.
The door slowly opened inward, producing a harsh, metallic grinding sound like that of a long-sealed tomb.
From within, thick darkness surged outward like a living entity.
The Ghost Bride grabbed the limp priest and stepped inside.
Still in Raven form, Ian spread his wings and slipped along the shadows of the wall, finally landing on an ancient bronze candelabrum in the corner. The lamp had long since gone out and was covered in verdigris, but it served perfectly as his perch.
He concealed his presence, letting his consciousness sink into the boundary between reality and illusion to ensure that no being could detect him.
Inside the door was an enormous underground hall.
Even an experienced wizard would tremble at the sight.
In the center of the hemispherical chamber, a massive golden egg, three stories tall, floated. Its surface was covered in pulsating blood vessels that beat with a strange rhythm.
Seven thick golden chains extended from the egg and connected to seven crystal skull containers. Within each container, a brain floated in golden liquid.
Hundreds of dried corpses hung from the immeasurably high dome above, their skin shriveled like paper and their limbs twisted. Yet their mouths still emitted low chanting sounds.
Their voices merged into a bizarre harmony, like an ancient prayer in an unknown language.
On the ground, hundreds more desiccated corpses knelt in concentric circles. Their hollow eye sockets were all directed toward the flesh egg, and their jaws opened and closed mechanically, producing synchronized chanting.
Most horrifying of all were hollow cavities on their foreheads where a third eye symbol should have been now embedded with tiny, golden flesh buds that writhed in rhythm with the chants.
All of the corpses prayed toward the same point.
In the center of the hall, a golden Embryo floated in the air.
It was roughly three meters tall and oval-shaped, with a surface covered in flowing golden patterns that pulsed like veins. Though it had no facial features, it gave the distinct sensation of watching—as if the entire space lay within its perception.
Twelve desiccated corpses clad in tattered high priest robes stood around it.
They clearly held positions of great status.
They all raised their hands high, palms facing upward, and released streams of dim green magical light, guiding the entire ritual.
Ian's pupils contracted slightly; these corpses were not entirely dead. They had been transformed by some sinister technique into the Embryo's "Living Priests."
Using the Sun God's priests as a reference, the evil god's Embryo had created its own clergy.
They required no faith or willpower; they only had to serve as conduits of energy.
They were highly efficient.
And evidently, they were absolutely loyal.
Even more horrifying was the fact that Ghost Brides continuously emerged from the surrounding corridors of the hall, .
They came from all directions and had different appearances. Some wore student uniforms, some were draped in dancers' veils, and some were young female corpses wrapped in white cloth.
Yet all of them had glowing red eyes and they all dragged black coffins in their hands.
The coffins were opened one by one.
Inside were not corpses, but living people.
There were ordinary citizens, wandering wizards, scholars, and craftsmen. Each person bore a label written in blood-red ink describing their unique abilities.
They were forcibly dragged out of the coffins and thrown to the ground.
Some screamed.
Some struggled.
Some shouted in fury:
"Who are you?! Where are we?!"
"Let me go! I'm a registered wizard of the Twilight Hermits Society. You'll be judged for this!"
"This... this is beneath the temple?! Have you all gone mad?"
No one answered.
The Corpse-Priests continued their chanting while the Ghost Brides coldly pushed them toward the center.
In an instant...
The twelve Corpse-Priests raised their hands simultaneously. Beams of dim green light shot out from their palms and wove into a massive energy net that enveloped all the living sacrifices.
Their bodies began to glow.
Golden patterns identical to those on the Embryo's surface emerged beneath their skin.
The priests' life force, magical affinity, and the essence of their souls were forcibly extracted and transformed into streams of golden light that continuously flowed into the Embryo.
Screams erupted one after another.
Some tried to resist by casting magic, but the moment they gathered their power, it was devoured by the energy net.
Others tried to flee but found their legs were as heavy as lead and were unable to move even an inch.
In mere seconds, all the living sacrifices withered.
Their skin shrank, their eyes sank inward, and in the end, they became dried corpses.
The Ghost Brides dragged them away, hanging them from the dome above and turning them into new "chanters."
"So after their life essence is drained, the remaining bodies are transformed into undead believers… that's terrifying…" Even Ian felt a chill at the twisted logic and cruel will of the golden Embryo.
"Ahhhhh…!"
A shrill scream snapped Ian out of his thoughts.
He turned his head to look and saw another Ghost Bride, who was dragging a black coffin into the chamber. When she opened it, inside were five living people, bound tightly with iron chains. On each of their foreheads was a papyrus label:
"Astrologer," "Herbologist," "Architect Master"…
The corpse-Priests suddenly turned toward the new sacrifices in unison.
With eerie coordination, they rose, their bony claws seizing the struggling victims and dragging them toward seven designated positions around the flesh-egg.
One young woman struggled frantically, shouting toward the Scepter Priest:
"Save us! Aren't you a High Priest?!"
The Scepter Priest collapsed on the ground, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.
The corpse-Priests pinned the sacrifices onto stone slabs carved with grooves. Their bone claws sliced across the victims' foreheads.
The moment blood flowed, the flesh-egg suddenly contracted violently, and the seven golden chains stretched taut.
Ian could clearly see strands of blue energy being extracted from the victims' foreheads, flowing along the carved channels on the ground toward the flesh-egg.
"N-no… no…" The Astrologer's eyes rapidly dulled. "I can see it… that is…"
Her final words were cut short as all the sacrifices stiffened simultaneously.
Their skin shriveled at a visible speed, and in the end, they became dried corpses no different from the others.
Their foreheads began to bulge, as tiny golden flesh buds broke through the skin.
After witnessing two rounds of sacrifice in succession, the Scepter Priest finally broke down.
Crawling and stumbling, he threw himself before the flesh-egg, kowtowing frantically.
"No… no… I am not a sacrifice! I am a Priest! I am a high-ranking Scepter holder of the Temple! I can serve you! Great God, please! I can be your High Priest! I can manage your followers! I can write Divine Oracles for you! I know all the Temple's secrets! I can help you obtain more sacrifices!"
He knelt on the ground, his forehead slamming against the floor, blood flowing endlessly.
"I am willing to offer my soul! My knowledge! Everything I have! I beg you, let me live! Let me become your most loyal servant!"
He truly did not want to die, much less become a sacrifice. With his magic completely sealed, he had already missed the best opportunity to end his own life. Now, even death itself had become a distant luxury for the Scepter Priest.
In truth, back in the upper temple, he had still been given a choice.
He could have chosen death, accepted the protection of the Underworld's laws, and passed into the Underworld.
But clearly, the Scepter Priest had abandoned that protection and guidance, hoping instead to remain in the Human Realm and seek resurrection after death.
And that decision had cost him his final chance.
One could only say that he had brought this upon himself.
Of course, many of the ordinary people here were innocent.
Ian wanted to save them but he knew nothing about the Ghost Brides or the gestating evil god. Acting rashly might very well cost him his own life.
Although his Raven form granted him immunity to magic and Divine Magic, that was only based on his prior observations. He wasn't certain whether this kind of dark sorcery could influence a creature like the Raven, which itself leaned toward the unnatural.
As Ian observed, he could see countless souls being drawn into the golden Embryo, becoming part of the evil god rather than being destroyed.
Which meant that as long as the root of the problem could be resolved, those souls might still be saved.
Ian was not a Gryffindor.
He did not possess that reckless, headstrong sense of justice.
He could only ensure his own safety first and then do what was right, gathering enough information before forming a plan.
The Scepter Priest was still begging in madness. The golden Embryo continued to float, unmoving.
It gave no response.
It showed no emotion.
It did not even "listen."
It simply existed, like the center of the universe, with all things as its nourishment.
A wizard on the verge of death lay on the ground. With his last strength, he lifted his head and stared at the Scepter Priest, his voice hoarse: "Fool… don't you understand yet?"
The Scepter Priest froze.
"You… you Priests… the god you're trying to create…" Blood spilled from the wizard's lips, yet he smiled mockingly. "It doesn't need you… it doesn't need any 'servants'… what it wants… is for all things… to become part of it…"
He gasped for breath, his final words barely audible;
"It… is its own Priest… its own believer… its own god…"
Before he could finish, his body completely withered into a dried corpse, which a Ghost Bride dragged away.
The Scepter Priest stood there, stunned.
At last… he understood.
They thought they were creating a god.
In reality, they were nurturing something that would devour everything.
This Embryo needed no faith, because it itself was the endpoint of faith.
It needed no Priests, because it could turn all life into extensions of itself.
It needed no followers, because it intended to make the entire world its body.
It was not a "god."
It was an anti-god, an ultimate existence that rejected definition, rejected worship, and rejected separation.
It did not seek dominion.
It sought assimilation.
"No!" The Scepter Priest could not accept this reality. He finally realized the most critical mistake, the one he had ignored all along.
The artificial Sun God project had indeed been progressing smoothly. But the Sun God Embryo had distorted the meaning of the Sun illuminating all things. Instead of nurturing all life, it sought to turn all things into itself, a complete inversion of the original concept.
He and the other Priests had utterly failed the experiment. As if to confirm both Ian's realization and the Priest's despair, one of the newly transformed corpses slowly turned its head.
Its hollow eye sockets 'stared' at the Priest. Its jaw opened and closed, producing a dry, rasping voice: "No need to serve… all things are me…"
Clearly, the Embryo was using the undead to express its will.
Those words rang like a final death knell.
The Scepter Priest looked around in a daze, suddenly noticing that the flesh buds on all the corpses' foreheads were pointing in the same direction.
With every sacrifice transformed, the Embryo's control network expanded further.
"I see…" An old wizard dragged in earlier let out a bitter laugh. "What you created is not a god, it's a plague! It wants to turn all life into itself!"
The Scepter Priest felt as if struck by lightning.
He suddenly recalled a warning from ancient texts: [False gods devour. True gods bestow.]
This had once been the most strictly forbidden commandment.
Only now did he realize that it was the truth.
But it was too late.
Seven Ghost Brides had already surrounded him. Their red wedding garments fluttered without wind, revealing the corpse-like bodies beneath.
"N-no… you can't…" The Scepter Priest staggered backward in despair until his back pressed against the flesh-egg.
Sensing living contact, the flesh-egg suddenly split open. Countless golden threads shot out like tentacles, instantly piercing into the Priest's seven orifices.
His scream twisted into something inhuman.
His eyes bulged outward and in his final moment, his pupils reflected the terrifying truth:
The essence of that Embryo was a being with the visage of a Sun God… but it was utterly devoid of any humanity.
(End of Chapter)