Chapter 42: The Sacrificial Disaster
The congregants of the Quiet Word got up from the ground one after another.
Only the priest who presided over the dedication ceremony sat in the middle and hadn’t moved at all, as if he had fallen into a virtual state of death.
He was already very old and aged at least seventy or eighty.
Yet his face, which was far from the youthful look, had no wrinkles on it.
This old man’s face existed with an indescribable, unexplained sense of weirdness.
A believer with a solemn expression walked from behind the believers while holding a black sphere the size of a heart.
He slowly knelt in front of the priest, lowered his head, and offered the black sphere in his hand high up.
The priest gently reached out and took the black sphere.
This was the relic that the Quiet Word was going to sacrifice to the great Quiet Singer.