Blood apostle
Chapter 65
The gate did not lead to salvation.
It led to memory.
To pain.
To a realm where blood was the air and thought was the enemy.
Kiro stepped through first—and immediately dropped to his knees.
He was no longer in the City of Blood.
He was standing inside something alive, or once had been—an endless corridor of pulsing flesh and bone, as wide as a ship and lit only by the slow, rhythmic pulse of divine heartbeats long stopped.
The Blood God.
His progenitor.
His end and beginning.
All around him, the walls breathed slowly. Runes twitched like muscle spasms. Nerves hung like vines. And a pressure—deep and cruel—pressed down on his soul like he had returned to a prison carved from the bones of divinity.
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