Chapter 91: Fire Sacrifice |
The rain poured down even harder. Bai Mu and Stephen followed closely behind the priest, weaving through the courtyard beneath the eaves, navigating a complex maze of pathways and buildings.
Bai Mu had already removed the handcuffs from the priest's wrists. He had changed into a dry clerical robe. As they passed a locker room, Bai Mu had allowed him to wipe the freezing rain from his body and don fresh clothes.
The dead of night and the torrential downpour caused the temperature to plummet, leaving the outdoors bitterly cold. It was not out of the goodness of his heart that Bai Mu showed such leniency, but rather a practical concern that the elderly man's frail body simply could not endure the chill. After all, Father Martin had just been chased over a considerable distance and had taken a nasty spill in the mud.
If they did not find him some warm clothing, Bai Mu genuinely feared the old man would lose consciousness and collapse.
Father Martin was completely unrestrained now, yet he showed no intention of running away. Regardless, it would have been impossible for him to slip out from under the watchful eyes of two young men.
To be more precise, after Bai Mu's earlier persuasion, the priest and the two Reporters had formed a temporary alliance.
Emerging from the narrow pathway, Bai Mu looked up and scanned the courtyard.
Dense raindrops battered the grass and dirt. The rainwater converged into rushing streams, washing down the slopes into the lower grounds.
The structures of the asylum stood tall amidst the hazy mist of the storm. Behind the clustered buildings loomed desolate mountains. Lightning suddenly tore across the sky, branching out like jagged veins against the dark, heavy clouds.
That shifting black mist flickered in and out of sight amidst the driving rain and lightning. The Walrider had enveloped this entire place. Based on the confession they extracted from Father Martin, the Walrider did not stop outsiders from entering, but it absolutely forbade anyone inside from leaving.
Directly ahead of Bai Mu stood a Church. The area was far from empty; a large group of asylum inmates stood guard right at the entrance of the building.
These individuals were noticeably different from the inmates in the Administration Building. If those inside the Administration Building resembled withered, dying crops, then this group radiated the undeniable aura of hardened, dangerous criminals.
They clutched vicious weapons in their hands—kitchen cleavers, heavy shovels, and baseball bats driven through with rusty nails. Each of them possessed a ferocious glare, their bodies littered with gruesome scars from countless brawls, and a few even sported gang tattoos etched deeply into their skin.
Compared to the maimed victims missing arms and legs, the inmates gathered here all had their limbs intact. Although some were missing eyes, noses, or ears, they were fully capable of moving normally and ruthlessly swinging their lethal weapons.
They stood firmly at the doors of the Church, holding blazing torches high into the stormy night, as if waiting for something.
"Do not be afraid," Father Martin said. "They are all faithful followers."
The trio was still some distance away from the Church, and the mass of asylum inmates had yet to spot them. Stephen grabbed hold of the priest and asked nervously, "Are we really going over there, Bai? What if this old charlatan suddenly turns on us?"
Although Stephen placed his absolute trust in Bai Mu, he completely distrusted the priest—and understandably so. After all, he had nearly been killed by Father Martin and Chris Wolf. Who in their right mind would willingly trust the very person who had just tried to orchestrate their brutal murder?
Bai Mu replied, "There is an old saying in my homeland: doubt not whom you use, use not whom you doubt."
"That's a rather complicated Eastern proverb," Stephen muttered, scratching his head.
"You are overthinking things, Stephen," Bai Mu assured him. "Don't worry. I believe Father Martin will deliver on his promise. Let him go."
Stephen was clearly reluctant, but after hesitating for a few seconds, he finally loosened his grip.
"Alright, Bai, I trust your judgment."
"It will be fine, Stephen. You don't need to worry about these people."
There was truly no need to fret. Even if the priest actually decided to betray them, it would simply be a matter of spending a few more bullets.
By this point, Bai Mu had already figured out a portion of the Walrider's underlying rules.
The Walrider simply did not care about the violent struggles occurring within the walls of the asylum. Chris Wolf had been allowed to slaughter inmates at his leisure without ever provoking an attack from the terrifying entity.
Its primary targets were the armed soldiers and researchers who had originally controlled Mount Massive Asylum, purely because the Walrider's Adapter had once suffered unspeakable torment at their hands.
In order to engineer an Adapter capable of resonating with the Walrider, Murkoff had subjected countless patients to horrific torture. They had even pumped them full of experimental drugs to heighten their senses, solely to manufacture a profound, terrifying dread that supposedly "transcended death."
The Walrider was slaughtering the soldiers and scientists entirely out of revenge. Neither the inmates nor Bai Mu held its initial aggro or hatred, so they would not randomly provoke its deadly wrath.
As long as he did not actively try to escape the asylum boundaries, Bai Mu was completely free to fire his weapons and use his active skills whenever he pleased.
However, since he still needed to complete Stephen's side quest, he had to exercise a bit of restraint. Regardless, his trusty handgun was more than enough to handle this disorganized mob. Glancing at their numbers, he counted no more than twenty of them. Even if the priest decided to go back on his word, treating each fanatic to a hot lead bullet would easily leave them all lying dead on the cold ground.
Bai Mu was entirely confident—not because he possessed unwavering faith in Father Martin, but because this rabble simply didn't constitute a real threat. They were nothing more than a bunch of mortal street thugs.
If another ordinary Player were in his shoes, these inmates might actually prove quite troublesome. But in Bai Mu's eyes, they were practically indistinguishable from the mindless Zombies he was so thoroughly accustomed to dealing with.
The two Reporters followed the priest straight up to the Church's entrance. The heavily armed inmates immediately cast suspicious glares at the strangers tailing their leader.
"Father Martin... who are these two?" A pair of imposing twin brothers, both gripping massive kitchen cleavers, stepped forward to block their path.
"They are emissaries," the priest declared.
Father Martin's expression was grave and dignified, completely masking the pathetic sight he had made just moments ago, shivering violently in the freezing wind while wearing nothing but a thin vest. The man's acting skills were genuinely worthy of a shiny golden trophy at any global film festival.
"Pay them no mind. Come, we must proceed with the ceremony."
"Understood, Father." The twin brothers withdrew their intense gazes. Father Martin gestured with his hands, and the gathered inmates immediately flooded into the main sanctuary of the Church.
It seemed this bloody battle was entirely avoidable after all. By simply persuading the priest, they had completely bypassed the need to slaughter this mob of fanatics.
Naturally, a Player specializing in pure combat could have easily just bulldozed their way through. On their journey to the Church, Bai Mu had already gathered plenty of old documents regarding the Walrider. Even if he hadn't managed to catch the priest, spending a bit more time scouring the area for lore would have eventually revealed the true nature of that swirling black mist.
Bai Mu and Stephen followed closely behind the procession, stepping into the dim interior of the Church. Right in the center of the room stood a towering wooden cross, roughly the height of a grown man. It was cobbled together with crude nails and splintered planks, its incredibly rough craftsmanship making it painfully obvious that it had been hastily constructed from whatever scrap materials they could scrounge up.
A massive pile of kindling and dry firewood sat at the base of the cross. At first glance, Bai Mu genuinely didn't understand what they were planning to do, but the bleak setup bore an eerie resemblance to a medieval witch-burning execution.
Father Martin walked gracefully toward the pulpit. From beneath his robes, he produced a heavy iron key and handed it directly to Bai Mu. The priest then silently pointed toward an elevator situated at the very back of the room. It was bizarre to see such a hyper-modern steel elevator sitting awkwardly in the middle of a Church that radiated such distinct Renaissance-era architecture.
[You have obtained the item: "Key to the Underground Laboratory".]
"Go," Father Martin commanded softly. "Billy is waiting for you down there. God... is waiting down there."
Billy was the true name of the Adapter—a mere nineteen-year-old male inmate.
Having delivered his message, the priest turned around and willingly marched up to the wooden cross. The devoted inmates immediately surged forward, using thick ropes to bind his limbs securely to the timber.
"Today, we shall finally obtain true freedom!" Father Martin roared with religious fervor, squeezing his eyes shut.
Without a moment's hesitation, the asylum inmates tossed their blazing torches onto the pile of dry firewood. They immediately dropped to their knees, burying their heads in deep reverence toward the priest as the fire rapidly flared to life, spreading hungrily over the wood.
"Damn it! What the hell are you doing?!" Stephen screamed, completely stunned by the horrific display.
But absolutely no one paid him any mind. It was as if these fanatics had completely lost their own consciousness. Every single one of them remained firmly planted on their knees, continuously kowtowing to the burning man.
The flames roared and scorched the air. A pained groan escaped someone's lips, yet not a single person moved an inch from their spot.
"Ignore them, Stephen!" Bai Mu barked. He had already pried open the heavy doors of the elevator. "They're completely insane. Don't forget who we are! We need to focus on what we came here to do!"
The raging firelight cast dancing shadows across Bai Mu's stoic face. He remained entirely unfazed. No matter how horrific the scene, this was a path they had chosen for themselves. If this mob was dead set on completing their grotesque ceremony, and as long as they didn't stand in his way, Bai Mu saw absolutely no reason to intervene.
It certainly wasn't the first time he had witnessed something so macabre.
Suicide was a grim reality in apocalyptic scenarios. Life and death were ultimately personal choices, and sometimes, embracing death was simply the easier route.
In reality, choosing death sometimes required far more courage than choosing to stubbornly survive. To certain individuals, the phrase "live on" sounded like a malicious curse. Rather than forcing these mentally broken souls to endure a lifetime of excruciating torment, allowing them to finally find peace in death was far more merciful.