"Gods above!"
Lodosk knelt again on the cold temple floor. He slowly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes gazing up at the towering statues.
The Kings of Kings, Gozek and Karafes, stood towering, their bronze faces majestic and solemn.
The Goddess of Fate, Ananke, holding her spindle, looked down coldly upon the teeming multitudes.
The Goddess Life, Hefne, lowered her eyes, her face merciful, her gaze compassionate.
The God of Death, Tanatoi, held his blade, majestic as a god of war.
The Goddess of Love's silver bow was long broken; Olympia had no Goddess of Love.
"Save us! Save your people!"
Lodosk's voice was already hoarse. The temple was silent. The eternal flames flickered, casting sinister shadows across the statues.
The shadows writhed like living things, clinging to the folds of the statues' robes, then climbing the pillars to the dome.
In a daze, Lodosk seemed to hear the statues' whispers. The voices sounded like both mockery and temptation. Like a gentle mother murmuring, like an irritable father roaring.
"You call upon us?"
His breathing quickened. Tears rolled from his eyes. The gods had finally answered him!
"Gods, grant me power! I will crush the false gods and restore the gods' glory!"
The priest's forehead pressed against the cold stone tiles as he prayed devoutly, kowtowing.
"The Veil hinders us..."
"The blasphemers... destroy our faith..."
"Go, go and sacrifice... soak the altar with blood! tear the Veil with souls!"
"We will grant you the blessing to crush all!"
"Do it for me. Kill Antaram! Kill them!"
"You are the gods' priest."
"You are the gods' servant."
"Sacrifice yourself for your gods!"
"I will grant you immortality!"
"You will ascend to godhood!"
The priest slowly raised his bloodshot eyes. The gods still silently looked down upon the mortal world. The sinister shadows clinging to the statues' robes were gone, as if they had never been.
The gods were simply the gods. There was no strangeness.
"Thump!"
"Thump!"
The priest silently bowed his head, again and again. His forehead was already a bloody mess, but he felt no pain. Blood poured down, outlining his now hideous expression.
"Thunder and rain, both are divine gifts."
"I will uphold the gods' will!"
"With the blood of false gods, I sacrifice to the true gods!"
The shadows writhed and clung again like living things. Now Lodosk finally saw, it was the gods' unwillingness, burning fury!
.....
"Lodosk is a good man."
A flicker of regret passed through Perturabo's eyes. "It's a pity."
Faith is a cancer. Priests are the pustules faith creates. They use the gods' names to amass wealth, deceive ignorant women into prostitution, manipulate grain prices, speculate, and crush each other internally.
Though Lodosk was also a priest, he was different from the others. He was devout and pure, a good man in every sense, even noble. He was charitable, giving all he had to help the poor. He lived simply, owning nothing but his priestly robes.
He held free clinics for commoners weekly, encouraging them to do good. Lodosk had also debated faith with Perturabo on behalf of the gods, but Perturabo never bore a grudge. He was just another mortal fooled by faith. But that also meant he was in too deep.
Those priests who used the gods' names to amass wealth were not true believers. Divine blessings would not come to them. So they escaped this fate. But Lodosk, year after year, prayed for the gods to punish Perturabo. His devotion was evident. He could have seen the truth about the gods and turned back, or come to Perturabo to confess. Instead, he stubbornly returned to the temple to pray to empty gods. He was beyond saving.
Caelan said, "There was once a priest on Terra. He was also a good man."
"He built a shelter in the bitter cold of the North, taking in those displaced by the apocalypse, providing them with food and water."
"Due to the harsh environment and lack of supplies, he spent his days tirelessly gathering resources."
"Until one day, he heard whispers and promises from the void."
"Gradually, he began to offer sacrifices to his god, gaining power to save his people."
"At first, it was just insignificant offerings, perhaps an apple for ten bags of wheat, a rabbit for a ton of flour."
"Until one day, humans were also placed on the scales."
"The life of one death-row prisoner for a patch of fertile soil in the frozen wasteland. The yield from this land would be enough to shelter thousands. It was a good deal."
"The prisoner was sacrificed, chosen by popular vote."
"But the people did not become prosperous. The fertile soil yielded nothing in the northern winds."
"He had to perform the sacrifice again. This time, nine death-row prisoners."
"Common criminals deserving no sympathy; the people agreed."
"The land yielded a bountiful harvest. The people rejoiced."
"The priest's miracles spread. More and more people joined his shelter. The shelter became a city."
"To shelter more people, he had to sacrifice more death-row prisoners."
"The supply soon ran low. So, those convicted of slightly lesser crimes became the new sacrifices."
"In the people's eyes, these too deserved death. Their sacrifice was natural."
"When the supply of those convicts also dried up, the scope of the sacrifice inevitably spread to ordinary prisoners."
"They might have stolen a loaf of bread when starving, or to feed their dying child a piece of beef."
"Regardless, they were all sacrificed."
"This time, the god's gift was especially generous."
"Warehouses filled with bags of flour. Even the dying and sick recovered."
"The mother sacrificed for stealing meat; her gravely ill son recovered, gnawing on a blood-stained steak, devoutly praising the god."
"Later, even prisoners ran out. The people flooding into the city seeking shelter grew daily."
"The priest had to make an even more brutal choice."
"The elderly were sacrificed first, willingly going to the altar, trading their lives for their descendants' survival."
"But there were too few elderly to satisfy the god's ever-growing appetite."
"So the standard lowered again. The sick and disabled became the new sacrifices."
"The priest's prestige grew with each miracle. Followers flocked to him."
"He had more and more people to shelter. The sacrifice rituals became more frequent, more mysterious."
"Every day, a grand sacrifice was held in the city."
"Hundreds of people were sacrificed for supplies to feed hundreds of thousands."
"Sacrifice the few to save the many."
"It was still a good deal."
"His miracles attracted many followers and also the attention of hostile tech-barbarians."
"They were powerful. They didn't come to kill, but to destroy the sacrifices."
"To fight them, the priest had to sacrifice tens of thousands to enhance his warriors, gaining power to contend against them."
Perturabo was captivated. When Caelan stopped, he asked, "And then?"
"Then he died."
"Back when he was sacrificing apples and rabbits, he met a wanderer."
"The wanderer warned him to stop what he was doing, to stop craving that power."
"But to shelter his people, the priest didn't listen. He couldn't bear to watch his people freeze to death in the snow."
"Later, the wanderer invaded his city with an army of tech-barbarians, killed everyone, and executed the priest."
Perturabo understood. "The wanderer was my father?"
Caelan nodded, "During the Unification Wars, Terra had tens of thousands of temples and countless faiths."
"People believed in different pantheons. Many of those priests had once been good men. In the end, they all became monsters."
"That is what faith did to them."
Caelan had not known those priests personally and knew nothing of their experiences, but his guess was probably close. The gods have always been like this.
Lodosk was a good man, devout, selfless, compassionate. He was more beloved than those hypocritical priests, yet also more dangerous. As long as he believed he was serving a lofty being, he would eventually step into the abyss. That was the price of believing in the wrong idol.
"My Lord." Zoris knelt on one knee.
"Lodosk has secretly contacted the Third and Seventh Wise Men. They are plotting in a private residence west of the city."
The former Third Wise Man, Mondak Yuminos, was now the First Wise Man, and the current Third Wise Man was the former First Wise Man. As for the Second Wise Man, since the previous one's death, the vacancy had been filled by Calliphone.
Perturabo ordered, "Find Barabas. You two will purge the city of this lingering poison."
He could have waited longer, letting more snakes surface, reaping a greater harvest. But each day of waiting meant more innocents might become sacrifices on the altar. Once Lodosk or others succeeded in a blood sacrifice, the situation would spiral out of control.
The entire city could be destroyed in the chaos god's carnival. He could dismiss faith in the gods, but not their power. Underestimating Them would only get him killed. So Perturabo chose the middle ground, the moment they showed their heads, he would strike.
...
"You called us here. Why the silence?"
The Third Wise Man spoke abruptly.
Lodosk slowly raised his eyelids. "Only you two?"
The Third Wise Man, "Dammekos holds all the power. The other cowards fear offending him. They didn't dare come."
"Then why did you dare?"
The Seventh Wise Man smiled. "We are pawns. Someone has to scout ahead."
Pawns have no retreat; they can only move forward. Perturabo had conquered the city-states in war, unifying Olympia. But in Lochos, Damnekos was steadily centralizing power. Power in Lochos had been shared between the royal family and the Twelve Wise Men.
Centralizing power meant taking it from the Wise Men. If the Twelve Wise Men united, they might have a chance to contend against the royal family. But there were traitors among them. The First Wise Man was appointed by the royal family, his power entirely dependent on them. Even if the royal family took power from the Wise Men, his position would be unaffected. And the Second Wise Man was simply Damnekos's daughter. How could they present a united front?
Since the other Wise Men were unwilling to give up power, they had to resist. But resistance needed leadership. Lodosk was suitable. As a priest, his stance represented the temples. With him, the Wise Men could gain religious support and sanctify their actions,they were acting for faith in the gods, not self-interest.
"Two is enough." Lodosk's voice was low. "The gods have shown me their true faces. I have received their oracles."
The Third and Seventh Wise Men looked solemn, bowing their heads like devout believers. But inwardly, they scoffed at his lies. 'If gods existed, why hadn't they struck down Perturabo, the blasphemer? Were they afraid?'
But Lodosk was the voice of religion, a charlatan by trade, pretending gods and ghosts existed. No matter their inner disdain, outwardly they had to appear pious. If they didn't, the temples wouldn't help them. They wanted Damnekos out because the royal family disrespected the gods. If the new ruler also disrespected them, what was the point of deposing the old one?
The Third Wise Man asked, "High Priest, what are the gods' instructions?"
Lodosk slowly raised his bloodshot eyes. "The gods have given me an oracle, to avenge Them!"
The Seventh Wise Man said, "Rest assured, Priest. We have been preparing in secret. We only await the murder cult's assassins to eliminate the blasphemer and avenge the gods!"
"Not him!" Lodosk's voice abruptly rose. "He is merely a blasphemer!"
Merely a blasphemer?
The Third and Seventh Wise Men exchanged glances. 'Had he lost his mind? If even blasphemy was 'merely,' what crime could be worse? Deicide?'
BAM!
The courtyard gate exploded in a violent blast, splinters flying. A squad of fully armed warriors surged in, the leader shouting:
"Sword Guard here to arrest traitors! You are surrounded! Lay down your arms and surrender!"
.....
Zoris strode towards Dantiok, their palms clasping tightly together.
"Barabas, I need your help again. Let us fight side by side!"
Dantiok asked, "Who are the enemies?"
Zoris answered, "The Third Wise Man, the Seventh Wise Man, and a High Priest. I suspect they serve dark gods in secret, plotting a blood sacrifice in Lochos. Our Lord has ordered their immediate destruction."
The Anvil Camp had four elite battalions, Sword Guard, Shield Guard, Hammer Guard, and Dagger Guard. The Sword Guard and Dagger Guard were now fully deployed, showing how seriously Perturabo regarded Lodosk. He wasn't commanding himself to test Zoris and Barabas. He couldn't do everything himself; he needed capable subordinates. This was their test.
Zoris said, "The target building has three entrances and twelve armed guards, all with lightning guns. Their possible escape routes are marked on my map. We lack the manpower to cordon off all the streets. We need your help."
"Only twelve guards? Let's just assault directly. We've done this before."
"Fine. You command. I'll coordinate."
Zoris and Dantiok quickly planned the assault. With a loud explosion, the operation began.
BOOM!
The wooden door shattered from the blast. Dantiok led the charge. His men fanned out in a tactical encirclement, their precise short bursts killing the courtyard guards one by one. Though named for swords, they weren't foolish enough to actually use blades. 'Sword' was merely symbolic, it cuts, it stabs, it pierces armor. Drawn, it's lightning fast; sheathed, it's deep as an abyss. Precise, elegant, efficient,that was the sword.
Within seconds, all courtyard guards were dead. When Dantiok's men burst through the inner door, the Seventh Wise Man turned ashen with terror. The Third Wise Man still tried to project authority, though his bark was worse than his bite, "What are you doing? I am the Third Wise Man of Lochos! This is my home!"
BANG!
The gunshot echoed in the enclosed room. A bright red flower bloomed on the Third Wise Man's forehead. His look of shock froze on his face. His pupils dilated, as if he couldn't believe his end would come like this. He collapsed, striking the floor with a dull thud. Blood and gray brain matter oozed from the back of his skull. To his last breath, he couldn't understand how this man dared to shoot.
Dantiok's expression never changed. He had already drafted the report, the Third Wise Man resisted arrest and grabbed a weapon; he acted in forced self-defense. Everyone present was on his side. No one would leak the secret. Even if they did, what of it? The Lord sent him to wipe out these traitors completely! With solid evidence, why leave them alive?
"Wait, wait! It wasn't me! I was coerced! They forced me!"
Seeing the dark gun barrel point at him, the Seventh Wise Man desperately pushed his hands forward. "I've served Lochos! I've bled for Lochos! I demand to see the Tyrant! I want to see..."
BANG!
A clean shot ended his protest. One more body.
Zoris lowered his gun, his gaze falling on the sole surviving priest. "Who handles this one?"
Lodosk spoke hoarsely, "I lured them here for you. I also have a list."
Zoris narrowed his eyes. "What list?"
"The same as them. People you want dead."
Dantiok frowned, his gun still aimed. "Why help us?"
Lodosk lowered his head. "I'm not helping you. I'm helping myself."
Zoris questioned, "What do you want?"
He didn't believe Lodosk was being charitable. He believed he was making excuses.
Lodosk slowly raised his face. "I want to see Perturabo!"
...
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