Chapter 189 – Allen Offers Himself as a Sacrifice
With the situation in Temeria resolved, Allen and his group set off toward their next destination.
Foltest was finally reunited with his daughter. The king was filled with guilt and joy, silently vowing to spend the rest of his life making up for his past mistakes.
The princess, now freed from her curse and restored to her human form, was like a blank slate—terrified of the unfamiliar surroundings. She curled up on the bed, eyeing the king and the maids warily.
Foltest was both heartbroken and helpless. All he could do was patiently teach his daughter, hoping she could soon return to a normal life.
"You'll stay with her through the night. If anything happens to the princess, report to me immediately."
Foltest issued the order casually, but when no response came, he turned toward the maids in confusion.
He was startled to see the maids standing frozen, maintaining their respectful posture as if time had stopped for them.
"Who are you?"
At some point, two robed mages had silently appeared at the doorway.
A chill crept over Foltest. He knew these people had come with ill intent.
The royal palace was guarded by elite soldiers—it was impossible for outsiders to sneak in unnoticed. Their silent arrival could only mean they had secrets to hide.
"Austedt really was a useless pawn. Just one small link in the plan, and it already failed."
"It doesn't matter. We've laid out many layers of contingency. The vampiric bird was just a backup. It's a pity that the Crimson Book has vanished—seems like someone took it."
"It's irrelevant. The day of reckoning is fated to come. No one can change that."
The two mages chatted idly among themselves, clearly paying no regard to a mortal king.
Then, they both turned their gaze toward Foltest.
Sensible as ever, Foltest said, "Please don't hurt my daughter. I'll cooperate with whatever you ask."
He already understood clearly—these two were no benevolent spellcasters. They were nothing like the lawful mages who followed the continent's codes. Their sinister aura made their true nature as evil mages blatantly obvious.
"Very wise. That saves us some trouble."
They proceeded to question Foltest about how the curse had been lifted. Foltest answered in full, without holding anything back.
Satisfied, the mages didn't kill him. Instead, they merely erased the memories of both the king and the princess.
Operating from the shadows, their actions were highly discreet—meticulous and watertight.
Since the curse had only just been broken, a sudden disappearance would arouse suspicion. Erasing their memories was the most effective solution.
Even a single misstep in detail could derail the entire grand plan.
…
Deep in the forest, the group gathered around a campfire.
"Our next target is the Oakwood Monastery in the Principality of Princeton."
Allen pointed to the next marked location on the map. All eyes turned to Geralt.
Having roamed the continent for years, Geralt was practically a walking map of Europa.
Moreover, given the diversity of customs across nations, it was vital to understand the local culture beforehand to avoid offending taboos.
"The Principality of Princeton lies on the northern edge. It was one of the first nations to adopt religion. As long as we avoid offending their beliefs, there shouldn't be any problems. The Oakwood Monastery is likely a religious orphanage, run by nuns. We'll need to keep our distance to avoid any misunderstandings," Geralt explained.
Witchers rarely interacted with organized religion. Their own Order had once functioned like a religious group, which inevitably brought them into conflict with other religious forces.
Now, fragmented and scattered, Witchers had grown cautious in their actions—always wary of stepping into hostile territory.
"A Griffin visiting a monastery… don't tell me he's got a nun for a mistress."
Allen chuckled knowingly. "Figures—no man is immune to a uniform."
None of them were particularly interested in prying into the Griffin's personal life. Gu Yi and Agatha were here to assist with the investigation. Geralt was their guide. No one was getting bogged down in irrelevant gossip.
Leaning against a tree trunk, the three prepared to rest for an early departure the next morning.
Meanwhile, Allen pulled out the Dark Magic Tome and began patiently studying the spells recorded within.
Doctor Strange possessed a spell called Crimson Chains (Crimson Bands of Cyttorak), which drew its power from Cyttorak—it could restrain even Thanos wearing the Infinity Gauntlet. That alone spoke volumes of its power.
Sure enough, it was documented in the tome.
"No wonder Austedt was such a pushover—he didn't even dare to train in these spells."
There were two spells recorded.
Crimson Chains and Crimson Fear.
The former was a control-type spell, summoning red energy tendrils to bind its target.
The latter targeted the mind—so long as the victim harbored fear, their soul would be trapped in endless spiritual torment.
Of course, the power of a top-tier demon god doesn't come freely. Gods of Order rarely answer recklessly.
Forcibly borrowing Cyttorak's power came at the cost of one's life. The more you used it, the faster you'd die—unless you had overwhelming strength like Doctor Strange to resist the backlash.
That said, the tome also recorded a method to borrow power without consequence.
Through a sacrificial ritual directed at Cyttorak—if the offering pleased him—he would respond, brand the caster as his chosen, and grant them unrestricted access to the Crimson Cosmos's power.
Be it demon gods or deities, they all had domains across the multiverse. Within their own territory, they were omnipotent—like a god reigning over their divine kingdom.
The power that mages borrowed was, in fact, the force of those multidimensional domains.
Allen glanced at Gu Yi and Agatha. The two of them were sitting cross-legged in meditation. Then he looked at Geralt, who rested with his sword in his arms, eyes closed.
"Agatha's my mount. Yao-mei's my junior. And Supes over there looks like he's worth nothing… who should I pick as the sacrifice?"
Allen rubbed his chin, lost in thought.
Then, suddenly, a spark of inspiration struck.
His eyes lit up. He muttered under his breath, "What if I offer myself? Old Cyttorak will be so touched he'll cry."
No sooner said than done.
He raised both hands and began sketching a magic circle in the air.
Scarlet lines traced out one symbol after another, which came together into a unified framework within the arcane geometry.
"Not bad. That was pretty easy."
The circle hovered above Allen's head. At its center was a patch of pure darkness—as if it were already connected to a higher-dimensional space. Soon, clusters of lights began to appear, like constellations scattered across the cosmos.
Among them, one scarlet light pulsed repeatedly, as if responding to Allen's ritual call.
The next moment, Allen felt a force pulling his head upward—an invisible hand yanking at his soul.
Instinctively, he looked down and saw his physical body sitting motionless on the ground.
"My soul just left my body!"
Far from panicked, Allen was thrilled. He shouted toward Gu Yi, "Yao-mei, wake up! This Daoist's about to become a god!"
Startled by a spiritual tremor, Gu Yi awoke from meditation. She instantly turned toward Allen's seated form, her eyes going wide as she spotted the crimson ritual circle.
"Agatha, wake up! Allen's causing trouble!"
"What trouble could he possibly—"
Annoyed, Agatha opened her eyes—only to be instantly shocked. "Holy crap, this guy's a genius. He just sacrificed himself. Break the comm stone—call the mages right now!"