"You are from the Temple of Life."
As he made this judgment, Murdoc frantically searched his memory. He had no recollection of this old man, which ruled out the well-known archbishops.
The fact that this man knew about the Alva family suggested he was likely one of the senior bishops, just below the archbishops. There were only two archbishops, but every major city had its senior bishop, and Murdoc couldn't recognize this one.
Whitebird City naturally had its senior bishop too. That old bishop had been transferred from Grape Collar about twelve years ago and hadn't been reassigned since.
If Murdoc remembered correctly, the old bishop was about to turn ninety-two. He was elderly and rarely appeared in public. Murdoc, even as a cleric, had only seen him once—from a distance, the old bishop looked as dry as a twig.
In contrast, the old man before him could be considered robust. Unfortunately, the features of the old man were obscured by the shadow of his hood, making it difficult for him to see clearly.
"You have betrayed the Temple." Murdoc continued hoarsely, "Why? With your status, you could have enjoyed a peaceful retirement. Even if you killed me, the glory of Lady Tilia wouldn't be tarnished…"
"So pious."
The red robe swayed as the old man walked towards the corrupted blood magic circle. "I have no interest in the glory of that bitch, Tilia."
With a casual wave of his hand, a shadow flickered, and a stone column as thick as an arm shot down from the top of the room.
It pierced through Murdoc's abdomen, pinning him like a specimen in the center of the magic circle. Blood quickly flowed out, mingling with the corrupted blood that drew the magic circle. The two types of blood, like oil and water, didn't blur the magic circle at all.
Murdoc first felt a terrifying heat, then the spreading intense pain. Through his sweat-blurred vision, he noticed the strange black-haired follower step forward half a step, only to be held back by the silver-haired follower.
In his chest, the two balls of Cat Tail Spirits still slept, continuously radiating warmth.
…Would he really be okay?
The stone column had pierced through Murdoc's body, making it impossible to treat, and he himself had nowhere to run.
The magical fluctuations in the air grew stronger, and the stench of decay intensified. His blood felt like it had mixed with strong acid, causing a fine, corrosive pain all over his body. It was as if he was being devoured alive by insects, and Murdoc trembled all over.
Unknown magic was activating. That old guy stood in front of him, his boot tip nearly touching his head.
Stay calm, think calmly, Murdoc. This wasn't like a torture display; the adversary's goal probably wasn't to insult the God of Life, Tilia.
Magic circle, underground space, the disappearances his sister had warned him about. Speaking of which, Whitebird City had similar cases about a decade ago…
"I am… a sacrifice." Murdoc's fingertips dug into the soil. "The Eternal Church is gone. You—"
"I too was once devout."
In the black and red glow, the old man stepped on the back of Murdoc's head. "Until I discovered the true nature of the world."
"…The truth…"
"Yes, the truth." The old man's tone became bitter. "Let me tell you something interesting. According to records, before becoming a god, Eugene Malloy, the Eternal Pope, and the hero Drake, before his disappearance, all had very similar levels of ability."
"In the language of so-called Players, that's called 'max level'. Once you reach that limit, you have a chance to become a god."
"Nonsense… According to what you're saying, everyone could become a god…" Murdoc didn't believe a word.
"In theory, yes. Unfortunately, those Players are limited by a system of rules, and we are limited by our own talents. How sad it is that most people die of old age before they can touch that line."
The old man leaned down and lowered his voice. "I was about to give up on this path, if not thanks to our remarkable God of Strife. If you must hate someone, hate him."
"Why…" Murdoc struggled to keep the conversation going.
His body was in pain, fear made his limbs feel leaden. But feeling the warm little furballs on his chest, his thoughts were unbelievably clear.
The magic took time to activate, and this old man, fortunately in a good mood, was willing to talk more with him, a soon-to-be-dead man. The Cat Tail Spirits said they "needed a witness". They were probably interested in these events…
"The Eternal Pope is dead, and Drake has become a god. There's no comparison. But that damn Eugene becoming a god confirmed the existence of the 'limit of godhood'."
As the magic neared completion, the old man's tone was thick with excitement.
"That guy sent me to this place, where I could monopolize the Eternal Church's 'little legacy'—under you, are the results of my decade-plus of research."
"I can't grow stronger, but I can devour the strength of others to break through that wonderful limit. A blessed, talented young man like you is the best nourishment."
Murdoc's vision gradually blurred, and his arms weirdly shriveled. The old man's body grew slightly stronger, he appeared younger…
It turned out this magic circle that was emitting a strong stench and the "Supplement Demon Potion" were similar…
How blasphemous…
In his ears, the mad voice grew increasingly vague.
"I will certainly obtain a power stronger than 'Strife'. I will become the seventh god of Tahe—"
"Really?" A young voice came from the corner of the room. "Which do you prefer, Creation or Destruction?"
Murdoc strained to look with his peripheral vision. It was the silver-haired follower. That guy had removed his red mask, his golden eyes sparkling brightly. The black-haired follower hadn't removed his mask and just sighed deeply.
The rows of followers around them remained motionless, no one stepped forward to stop them. After a moment of surprise, the old man seemed to treat them as rash newcomers.
"The 'God of Creation'' and the 'God of Destruction' are just concepts, like light and shadow."
The old man rasped, "Eugene was accepted by Destruction, and since I am his enemy, I must be on the side of Creation."
After saying this, he narrowed his eyes, and another stalactite shot down from the ceiling. It grazed the foot of the silver-haired follower and thunderously struck the ground.
"Today I'm in a good mood, so I won't kill you. Now you can step back and go relearn some manners."
"Wow." The silver-haired follower clicked his tongue. "I was already unhappy, and you managed to make me even more so—quite a talent. Honey, he just said he prefers you—"
"I formally refuse." The black-haired follower rubbed his forehead. "Do as you like."
"Praise you." The silver-haired follower took the other's hand, kissing it quite solemnly.
"You—" the old man suddenly choked as if his throat was caught.
In the old man's wide eyes, the followers on both sides of the room slowly turned around. Unbeknownst to him, they had stopped breathing… They were corpses, corpses that were moving.
His most elite followers, right under his nose, had silently perished.
Who exactly are these two?
Come to think of it, he hadn't even noticed their presence until they spoke up. The Investigation Knights? No, the Investigation Knights aren't this powerful… Besides, these two are far too young…
The silver-haired follower pulled off his hood, his long hair cascading down. Under the glow of the lanterns, his smile was especially sweet.
"Unfortunately," he said softly, "the God of Creation and the God of Destruction aren't concepts. They're a pair of lovers."
"…And they both don't like you." After saying this, he emphasized it again.
The old man looked down in confusion. His magical ritual was also silently terminated. Murdoc gasped for air. His blood had stopped flowing, and his previously shriveled arms gradually plumped up.
Why? How was there no trace of magical fluctuation?
The old man's teeth chattered.
No trace of murderous intent, no fierce attack. Everything had ended quietly before it even began, as if reality itself was denied.
Right, he had to attack. He had already successfully devoured many people, operated in secrecy for many years, and his power had already surpassed that of the archbishops of the Temple. Although he didn't know what these two lunatics were up to, he couldn't just…
When he came to his senses, the old man found his perspective had gotten lower. Through his blood-filled vision, he saw his own body slowly fall, hitting the ground like a sack.
Blood spurted from his neck, staining the dim magic circle red. This time, his blood mixed with the rotten blood on the ground, and the magic circle was completely destroyed.
Ah.
As his consciousness faded, the old man dully marveled. Near death, he finally felt the other's power fluctuations. It was Destruction—not hostile, not murderous—just pure destruction.
So that's how it is. The two supreme gods weren't mere concepts…
His thoughts lingered between confusion and regret.
Not far away on the ground, Murdoc finally caught his breath. He feigned fainting, carefully observing the two opposite him.
"This guy's doctrine is so poorly written that it lacks any aesthetic."
The silver-haired young man, holding the old man's head in one hand, flipped through a booklet with the other. "His followers seem to operate near the forests around Whitebird City. I plan to use local resources to make a more visually pleasing scene for him—waking up to find his divine artifacts scattered and hanging from trees will certainly be thrilling."
"You… Forget it. Don't scare the innocents." The black-haired young man finally removed his hood.
"Though he did get one thing right. It's all Eugene's fault." The young man referred to as Teest said, "He actually didn't notice this trash. If we hadn't passed by here, the old guy would have continued his antics."
"This man is a traitor to the Temple. I thought you would condemn Painter," the black-haired young man jested.
"I just dealt with him last week." Teest expressed regret. "If I had known, I would have waited and settled it all at once."
Murdoc tensed up. Is it okay to talk about gods in this tone?
Who exactly are these two… No, I'm going to faint.
Murdoc's last memory was of the black-haired young man's smiling face.
"I told you, you'd be fine," he said.
The author has something to say:
The current power rankings in Tahe:
Nol > Teest > Perradat >>> other gods
Nol, the true supreme god, needs no explanation. He is the only master of the system.
Teest has accumulated two powers himself, breaking away from the system, and will gradually create his own power system.
Perradat is a foreign god, born at the god level. However, she can't compete with Teest, the local advantage Player.
Other (local) gods haven't truly transcended the system yet. They've been co-opted by both sides, with a clear upper limit.It's not that Eugene ascended to godhood quickly. It's because the "god" Eugene became isn't on the same level as the "god" Teest became. ☆