Chapter 88: At This Point, the Demons’ Alliance with the Evil God Is Irrevocable!
Chapter 88: At This Point, the Demons’ Alliance with the Evil God Is Irrevocable!
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“Boom—”
A torrent of energy erupted, violent and overwhelming.
A frigid, sinister aura surged outward, as if intent on swallowing the world whole.
Yet the searing agony everyone had braced for never arrived.
Nerinette stood frozen, her face etched with confusion as she stared ahead.
Then she glimpsed the figure materializing behind them all—and her eyes widened in utter shock.
He was a stranger, unknown to any of them, yet his presence was undeniable.
He wore a bronze mask and stood silently by the door, as if he had always been there—watching, waiting. He made no move, simply stood there, his silent gaze fixed forward.
Yet the all-consuming black mist, as if confronted by something truly terrifying, recoiled in an instant.
A heartbeat later, it surged away, fleeing to the far edges of the hall like a tide in retreat.
“This... How is this possible?”
The Evil God cultist, moments ago certain of victory, stared in disbelief.
He looked down at his own hands, clearly unable to comprehend what was happening.
But when he noticed the others’ wide-eyed stares, their faces frozen in terror, he realized something was horribly wrong. Instinctively, he spun around.
And in that instant, as his eyes met the masked figure—whose very presence seemed to conceal an unfathomable, star-studded cosmos—he trembled uncontrollably.
“Who are you?!”
This was an existence more terrifying than anything they had ever encountered.
The stranger, masked and adorned in intricate patterns, strode forward without the slightest hesitation. Ripples of invisible aura radiated from him, silent but oppressive.
He did nothing unnecessary—simply advanced, step by unhurried step.
The black mist that had dominated the hall recoiled, slipping from its master’s control.
It could not invade, could not spread... it could not even touch him.
The divine power the cultists had always relied upon was suddenly useless. It could not even slow his approach.
With each step, the masked figure’s presence grew more imposing, swelling until it seemed to tower over them all. By the time he stood before them, they felt like mere ants—forced to witness an existence beyond comprehension.
“In illusion you sink, in dreams you are immortal.
With flesh and blood, you weave the dream; with a pure soul, you serve my god.
The power of the Dream-Mother... it truly is convenient. It let me slip into the imperial capital, and waltz right into this academy. I suppose I should thank the nobles for that, too.”
Words were powerless before the terror of this moment.
He suppressed all resistance with effortless ease, revealing his identity and reciting the creed of their god without hesitation.
The lead cultist’s eye twitched. In a panic, he raised his hand and called upon his deity’s power once more.
But the black mist that had filled the chamber now hung frozen, utterly beyond his control.
No matter how he strained, an invisible, crushing force formed an impenetrable barrier, locking everything out.
“This one... isn’t he from your church?”
Events had spiraled so far out of control that even Montoya sensed disaster looming.
He quickly stepped back, moving to shield the others from the masked figure—a reflex born of noble pride.
“Well then... let’s keep this simple.”
Snap—
With nothing more than a snap of his fingers—
The suffocating black mist recoiled, surging frantically to the farthest corners of the hall.
The cultist’s face twisted in terror. The divine power he had summoned was now utterly beyond his grasp.
The mist remained—encircling the room, still emanating the Dream-Mother’s unique divinity.
Yet it no longer belonged to him. Now, it obeyed the masked stranger, who manipulated it at will.
Dense dream-mist rose in towering walls, sealing off the entire chamber.
Then, as the masked figure snapped his fingers once more, Nerinette—still conscious—felt a wave of exhaustion crash over her.
Her knees buckled. She collapsed, sinking into a deep, unbreakable sleep.
“Your goal... was it to kill every alchemist here and destroy their finished work?”
There was no emotion in the question—only cold, inescapable truth.
The cultist’s eyes darted wildly, panic flickering in their depths. He searched desperately for an escape, but before he could move, a chorus of agonized screams erupted around him.
“W-what...?”
He spun, horror-stricken, to see every cultist who had come with him cut down—each one severed at the waist, sprawled lifelessly across the floor.
Blood pooled thickly, viscera spilling in grotesque rivers. Wisps of black mist seeped from their bodies, the divine power that had corrupted their souls struggling in vain to repair the devastation.
But in the next instant—
A dazzling, blinding light erupted from each severed wound.
It was a radiance so pure and holy that every Evil God cultist felt as if they were being incinerated alive. The corrupt power binding their bodies was burned away, inch by inch, as if meeting its ultimate nemesis.
Dark smoke hissed from their flesh. Organs, blood, and skin writhed as if trapped in a raging inferno, each cultist struggling desperately for release.
Their skin blistered and sloughed off beneath the holy light, exposing mutilated flesh—yet even in such agony, death would not come swiftly.
“Are you... from the Holy See?!”
The lead cultist stared in horror at his writhing, burning comrades, their bodies contorting and clawing across the floor as if consumed by living flame.
His knees buckled, dread flooding him as if he too stood at the heart of that purifying blaze.
“Weren’t the Judgement Knights supposed to be lured away? Wasn’t the capital supposed to be secure?!”
“How did you find me?! Are you—are you a bishop of the Holy See...?”
Crack.
Both his arms fell cleanly to the floor, blood spraying.
His frantic questions were cut short by that quiet, decisive sound.
Holy light bloomed at the stumps, radiance gentle yet merciless.
Agony lanced through his bones as the cultist leader finally understood his fate.
“AAAAAAHHHH!”
He felt, at last, the same excruciating torment that had claimed his brethren moments before.
It was as if his entire body was being torn apart and ground to dust by the holy light.
Every drop of blood tainted by the Evil God’s power sizzled and vaporized beneath its cleansing radiance.
But this was only the beginning. As seconds passed, the cultist’s body was consumed by the agony of being burned alive from within—an excruciating punishment that spread, unstoppable, to every last inch of flesh.
“Three seconds.”
“I—I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!” the cultist screamed, searing pain lancing through his soul, impossible to resist. “We were ordered to kill all the alchemists here and destroy every potion and ingredient—to make sure the demons’ war on the front lines would go smoothly!”
The agony rooted deep in his spirit left him no chance to lie.
“Oh? The demons, is it?”
Lin Wei’s gaze was icy as he looked down at the writhing, light-bathed figure.
Such disguises might fool ordinary people, but not him. He could see through the mask to the face beneath—twisted, rotted by the Evil God’s corruption, no longer truly human.
“Your church of the Evil God... you’ve been in contact with the demons for some time now, haven’t you?”
It was the answer he least wanted to hear.
And yet, the truth was now undeniable.
“I don’t know—aaahhh!!”
The burning only intensified as more power poured into the holy light.
The cultist’s face contorted in agony, his screams raw and broken by pain he could no longer withstand.
“I was only following orders—I’m just a senior cultist, I don’t know anything beyond my mission!”
“The priest... Yes, our priest is plotting something in secret at Duke Ous’s estate. The nobles helped smuggle me in as well.”
“If you want to know more, go to him! Please, let me live... I can take you to him! I swear I can!”