Lin Tuo vanished into thin air, as if he had never appeared at all, leaving only a group of newly freed sorcerers standing in the wind, staring at each other in disbelief.
…
Northern Continent, Drey Kingdom, Sacred Plain.
A solemn and oppressive "small city" stood among snow-dusted mountains, vast in its sprawl.
The city was not large—home to only a few tens of thousands—but its towering buildings rose proudly.
Inside, the streets were clean and orderly. Churches and monasteries of various sizes stood symmetrically along either side, and those who walked the streets mostly wore clerical robes.
Conversations, when they occurred, were hushed, and the air was filled with the order imposed by reverence and fear.
This city was called "Hayeks," yet the people of the Drey Kingdom knew it better by another name:
The Holy City.
Yes—this was the headquarters of the Church, a city populated entirely by clerics, priests, high officials, and holy knights.
It stood alone at the northern edge of the Sacred Plain, not far from the royal capital. Daily necessities were transported from the southeast, from the Drey Kingdom's capital.
For a long time, this Holy City had been the destination of countless pilgrims across the continent, the place closest to the Creator, the most radiant and solemn of all sanctuaries.
But at some unknown point, the city had changed—becoming a place of dread, of terror.
…
At the very center of the Holy City stood a grand cathedral built entirely of pure white stone.
In the depths of this white edifice, in a ceremonial hall, sat the current Pope, robed in finery, crowned, and holding his scepter. His eyes were closed.
His figure was tall yet aged. As one of the most powerful beings on the continent, his strength and life span had long surpassed ordinary limits.
But even he could not resist the power of time.
"Dong… dong… dong…"
Suddenly, as the tolling of bells seeped in through the cold drapery of the hall's windows, the old Pope opened his eyes.
And what emerged in his sockets was a pure, suffocating black.
Darker, far purer than the taint seen in the holy knights.
Like an endless abyss.
All at once, that abyss seemed to tremble. The Pope's body shuddered as black threads forced their way out of his pores—like yarn being pulled from a broken doll.
The countless strands floated without wind, dizzying and terrifying to behold.
"What is happening?"
Dozens of threads snapped, and the Pope muttered in confusion. The next moment, his face twisted into a mask of wrath.
After a few seconds of silence, he stood and strode toward the doors of the hall.
By the time he pushed them open, his expression had returned to one of solemn serenity. The black threads sank back into his flesh and disappeared.
"Your Holiness."
The priests stationed outside bowed deeply, not daring to look up.
The Pope gave only the faintest nod and continued onward—through the Sacred Avenue, up the Immaculate Stairs, and finally into the Door of Faith. As he progressed, the number of clerics around him dwindled, until he was completely alone.
Before him stretched a broad, shadowed corridor.
On one side hung sacred murals, on the other, a row of narrow windows.
The marble floor was carved with holy motifs. Shafts of sunlight cut through the windows, slanting across the corridor, cold and sterile.
Tap, tap, tap—the Pope's footsteps echoed, the hem of his ornate robe brushing along the stone.
Soon, he arrived before an unadorned, tightly shut door.
"O Great and Supreme God, your faithful servant has doubts in his heart."
The old Pope bent low, his hoarse voice echoing.
The door swung open, revealing a cramped prayer chamber.
Circular, windowless, every inch of the walls and floor was covered with holy patterns. The only illumination came from a glowing gemstone embedded in the ceiling.
But as the door opened, the Pope's vision shifted.
The chamber dissolved, replaced by a vast and awe-inspiring hall.
Before him, at the top of hundreds of steps, loomed a divine throne. And seated upon that throne was a giant formed entirely of swirling black mist.
"Oh?"
A hollow, ethereal voice reverberated through the hall. It carried with it a distortion, a corruption. A mortal who heard it would collapse in agony, but to the Pope, it was ecstasy, a sacred hymn.
"I sense that one of the hunting parties sent to capture heretics has vanished. I can no longer feel their presence."
"They are dead," the black mist intoned. "A heretic killed them."
"A heretic?"
"Yes. A very unusual heretic. I do not know whence he came, but even from afar, I can taste his sweetness. More delicious than any sorcerer." The mist surged as it spoke.
The Pope was taken aback. Countless sorcerers had been sacrificed by his hand to feed this god, yet never had one been called "delicious."
"Allow me to send men to capture him," he proposed.
The mist paused before replying:
"To you, he is strong. Too strong. His movements cannot be tracked. But… he seems to be seeking you. Perhaps this can be used…"
…
Soon, the prayer chamber's door shut once more. The vast hall vanished from the Pope's vision.
Turning, he walked back through the corridor and summoned a guard.
"Send word to Archbishop Cissé. Tell him to use divine arts to summon every holy knight regiment across the kingdom back to the Sacred Plain. At once."
"Yes, Your Holiness." Though puzzled, the guard dared not question him and departed immediately.
The Pope, clothed in finery, stood alone in the church's shadow, his eyes gazing southward. In his mind, already wholly corrupted, the god's command echoed:
"Use them as bait. Draw the heretic here. Sacrifice him to Me."
…
Drey Kingdom, Solan City.
By the time Lin Tuo, aided by maps and endless teleportations, finally located this city southwest of Oak Town, he stumbled upon a unit of church knights.
They were preparing to withdraw, having just received the Holy City's orders through divine arts.
After a brief but bloody skirmish, Lin Tuo annihilated them. Freeing the captive sorcerers, he asked the same question again:
"Do any of you know where the other capture squads are?"
But this time, none could provide useful intelligence. The scraps they offered were outdated by at least a month. Useless.
Lin Tuo frowned.
Yes, he could view the entire continent through his true body, even zooming in on certain details. But locating scattered squads across such vast lands was still a daunting task.
He had considered tracing the "ether lines" stretching into the sky, but discovered that holy knights rarely cultivated.
And the sorcerers? Imprisoned, tortured, denied even the chance to meditate.
"Should I keep searching… or head straight to the Church's headquarters?" he muttered, dismissing the freed sorcerers and strolling through Solan's streets.
If this were merely human infighting, he wouldn't trouble himself so.
Controlling the Pope, forcing him to order a release—or better yet, impersonating a god and issuing a true "oracle"—would suffice.
But after erasing two squads and gathering fragments of intelligence, he knew this was no ordinary matter.
The knights and divine magi were abnormal. The black vapors they released in death confirmed it.
And since they obeyed the Pope's orders, Lin Tuo began to suspect that the entire hierarchy of the Holy City was tainted.
The thought reminded him of the "Seal" that had corrupted the Mad Emperor in Sandbox No. 1.
Could the Drey Kingdom harbor something similar?
If so, even a divine oracle from him would be ignored—or denounced as the work of demons.
As for wiping out the Holy City outright… efficient, yes, but too dangerous in the long run.
No—the cleanest approach was to first cut down the dispersed hunting squads, then deal with the Holy City.
Yet now that the trail had gone cold, he hesitated.
"Who's there?"
At that moment, sensing something, Lin Tuo snapped his gaze toward a shadowed corner.
The light rippled, and a robed middle-aged man revealed himself.
"Do not misunderstand, my lord. I am but a weak, cowardly sorcerer who hides in the shadows." He raised his hands in a weary smile, showing he meant no harm.
"A sorcerer?" Lin Tuo arched a brow. Hardly surprising.
The Church's grip was strong, but in a kingdom this vast, some sorcerers would always find ways to hide—especially those with talents suited for concealment.
"You have something to tell me?" Lin Tuo asked.
"Yes, mighty one. Are you seeking the trail of the holy knight regiments?
I may have something useful. Just before you arrived, the church here in Solan received a decree from the Pope himself—ordering all units to return at once to the Sacred Plain…"
"Return?" Lin Tuo's eyes narrowed.
Had word of the massacres already reached them? In this age of sorcery, it was not impossible.
"So that is all you came to tell me?" he asked, regarding the man strangely.
The sorcerer bowed deeply.
"I know not your purpose, but you freed our kin. For that alone, I admire you. I only hope this news may be of some small use."
With that, his figure blurred and melted back into the shadows.
Lin Tuo watched the corner for a while. Beneath his hood, a smile crept across his lips. His gaze turned north.
"The Sacred Plain… the Church's headquarters. That saves me much trouble."
(End of Chapter)