It wasn't a gruesome scene of tearing flesh. Instead, a fine crack first split open from the center of the man's forehead. No blood surged from the rift; instead, a thick purple mist leaked out. Then, at a speed visible to the naked eye, the crack spread down his cheeks and neck, eventually covering his entire body.
The man in grey let out no cry of agony, nor did he struggle. He stood straight in the center of the altar, allowing his body to crumble and dissipate like a sand sculpture.
Heh, as expected, he wasn't human.
Back in the Rusty Nail Tavern, when Byrne first saw the man's face, he felt something was wrong. Now, seeing the state of the man as he split apart served as a secondary confirmation of his suspicion.
Before long, the man in grey had completely vanished, turning into a dense cloud of purple mist. It was then drawn by an invisible force toward the quill pen at the center of the vortex. Once the quill pen had swallowed all the incoming mist, its body jerked violently, and a single eye slowly pulled open.
At this, the tall, thin cultist presiding over the altar spoke with excitement. "The Apostle has returned to his seat. Companions, bring forth your Hearts of Deception!"
With these words, the tall cultist spread his hands first. In the blink of an eye, a fist-sized crystal glowing with an eerie purple light emerged. Its edges were distorted and unstable, as if constantly flowing and shifting—a creation of Tzeentchian followers known as a Heart of Deception.
The tall cultist looked fanatical. He raised his hands toward the energy vortex above the altar and shouted, "In the name of the Lord of Change, I offer my deception and guile!"
As soon as he finished, the Heart of Deception he held transformed into a purple streak of light and flew straight into the vortex.
Heart of Deception?
Byrne's heart tightened. He had no idea what a Heart of Deception was, let alone possessed one. It seemed this was something only Tzeentchian followers had, and it was a critical sacrifice to start the divination ritual.
Before he could devise a plan, the two cultists beside him acted. The withered follower on the left summoned a glass orb the size of a goose egg. It wasn't solid inside; instead, it contained face after face with constantly changing expressions. The stout follower on the right summoned an uneven black stone covered in eyes, each eye rotating independently and looking in a different direction.
The two cultists raised their hands simultaneously and shouted, "In the name of the Lord of Change, I offer my deception and guile!"
As their Hearts of Deception were also cast into the energy vortex, Byrne was the only one of the four at the altar who hadn't moved.
"The final companion, what are you waiting for? Offer your Heart of Deception immediately."
The three cultists turned their gazes toward Byrne in unison. Furthermore, the quill pen on the altar vibrated slightly. The single eye on its body rotated slowly, its gaze sweeping across the altar before locking onto Byrne. The look held no emotion, yet it carried an all-seeing pressure, as if it were peeling away Byrne's disguises layer by layer.
"Don't be impatient, companions. I'm bringing it out now."
Byrne spoke as he mimicked the others, spreading his hands and pretending to summon his Heart of Deception. In reality, his mind was racing to find a solution. He knew nothing of this heart; his previous interactions had all been based on going with the flow. Now that they had reached the sacrifice phase, he was backed into a corner.
For Byrne, once he was exposed as not being a Tzeentchian follower, obtaining information would be out of the question—staying alive would be the real problem.
Just then, the dormant golden energy within Byrne's body woke up again. This time, the golden energy did not explode outward as it had before. Instead, it condensed in his palm into a sandglass the size of a tennis ball. Although its shape differed from those of the other three cultists, the energy fluctuations it radiated were identical to those of a Heart of Deception.
Seeing the sandglass in Byrne's hand, the three cultists finally withdrew their gazes. The tall, thin cultist didn't forget to issue a reminder. "Hurry with the sacrifice. The ritual cannot be delayed any longer."
I passed?
Incredible. This golden energy can even simulate a Heart of Deception?
Byrne felt a mix of shock and joy, but he had no time to overthink it. He immediately raised the sandglass like the others and shouted, "In the name of the Lord of Change, I offer my deception and guile!"
The moment the golden sandglass flew into the energy vortex, it dissolved instantly, turning into thousands of fine golden flecks that intertwined with the thick purple Chaos energy in the vortex.
This scene did not raise any suspicion among the three Tzeentchian cultists. To them, it was normal for each follower's Heart of Deception to take a different form, and slight variations in energy were expected. Now, with the golden sandglass added, all four people had offered their sacrifices.
The tall cultist laughed and shouted, "The sacrifice is complete! The ritual begins! In the name of the Lord of Change, pull the threads of fate and peer into the tracks of the Child of Prophecy!"
After saying this, the three cultists clasped their hands and began to chant with their eyes closed. To Byrne, the lyrics were obscure and difficult to understand. Because that single eye was still watching from above, Byrne closed his eyes to avoid suspicion. Although he moved his lips, the sounds he made were entirely meaningless syllables.
The chanting echoed through the grotto like demonic music, intertwining with the hum of the altar's runes to form a heart-shaking torrent of energy. As the chanting grew louder, the purple runes on the altar flared more intensely, and the Chaos energy flowing in the grooves accelerated sharply.
Just then, the dark golden quill pen at the center of the vortex moved. It didn't fly toward any of the cultists; instead, it hovered directly beneath the energy vortex. The nib pointed downward, aimed at the area of the altar carved with core runes.
The runes spinning within the pupil of the single eye accelerated, as if accumulating enough power to tear through space. Then, a thin strand of purple light seeped from the nib. The moment the light hit the ground, it moved like a living thing, darting through the grooves of the altar.
Buzz!
A deafening hum came from deep within the altar. The resulting Chaos energy churned violently, like boiling lava. As the purple energy surged, all the runes on the altar's surface lit up. Purple light patterns spread across the floor, quickly weaving a massive energy network at the bottom of the grotto.
Having done this, the quill pen returned to its previous position, its purple pupil staring at the center of the vortex, waiting for the results of the divination.