Chapter 384: Son of God |
The players gathered outside Room 12, each lost in their own thoughts.
That a player of Fu Jue's stature had fallen on the very first night felt like a preposterous, cruel joke. Yet, after carefully considering the mechanics of this instance, achieving such a result didn't seem so impossible after all.
Asakura Yuko adjusted her glasses, a dreadful suspicion blooming in her mind: the war outside the Final Instance had likely already begun. The Weird Game clearly supported the early retrieval of identity cards. It was Fu Jue today... so would she be next?
The representatives from the Weird Investigation Bureau mostly knew what had happened. They were the ones who had discovered the record of "heretics secretly gathering to conspire blasphemy," and they were the ones who had activated the skill to "report any room with two or more occupants and have them judged as heretics."
What they hadn't anticipated was how easily Fu Jue would die. Their original plan had been to merely test his defenses and force him to use up some of his life-saving items.
Thompson stepped forward first, pushing the door open with bated breath. The stench of blood washed over them, a shocking crimson that assaulted the eyes. Of course, for players accustomed to the sight of death, a scene like this was as unremarkable as flowers by the roadside.
The representatives filed in, eagerly searching for Fu Jue's body and the Fallen Savior card that was sure to have materialized. But as they took in the scene, they could only stare at each other in bewilderment.
The large bed in the center of the room was empty. The stone pillow was in its place, the bedding was neatly folded, and not a single strand of hair remained, as if no one had ever lain there.
And in the pool of blood on the floor at the foot of the bed lay a dark-skinned figure. An inverted cross was driven diagonally through his chest, pinning his pierced heart to the ground—it was Blaylen, the black man!
Fujiwara Shinno studied the body for a moment but couldn't make out anything significant. Disregarding the potential danger, he reached out and began to search the corpse, his hands expertly patting down every pocket. He found nothing.
One of the representatives grew impatient. "Where's Fu Jue? Did you see his body?"
The players scattered, their gazes sweeping every corner of the room before they exchanged confused glances. Only Blaylen was in Room 12; there was no trace of a second person.
"Could Fu Jue not have been in the room? Then where is he? I swear I saw him go in last night..."
"Given Fu Jue's strength and style, he probably went out to explore during the night. You don't think he's still outside the temple, do you?"
A buzz of discussion filled the room. The representatives also calmed down, realizing that Fu Jue was very likely still alive.
A man that brilliant couldn't have been unaware of their scheme. If he had walked willingly into their trap, he must have had a countermeasure prepared.
Fran from Crystal County sneered coldly. "If you ask me, there's something very wrong with Fu Jue. He shared a room with Blaylen. You're telling me he didn't know something happened? He refuses to come back now, just wandering around outside. Maybe he's a fugitive fleeing from his crime."
His words dripped with undisguised hostility toward Fu Jue, which only served to confirm Giles's conclusion that "Fran is a blockhead with more muscle than brain."
He sighed wearily. "I know it looks suspicious—two people in one room, one dead and one missing. But I don't think we should jump to conclusions. I was out exploring last night and didn't run into Fu Jue.
"We've all seen what Fu Jue has accomplished over the years. I can't believe he'd harm a companion. Perhaps we should just be patient and keep looking..."
As if to validate his words, the tall woman suddenly tilted her head back and stared intently at the ceiling. Her tone turned strange. "Everyone, I think I know where Fu Jue's body is."
At her words, the other players looked up in the same direction.
A crack had appeared in the center of the ceiling, and embedded within it was a pale marble statue with a skull-like face. Its sharp fangs were clamped around a pair of blood-stained, frameless glasses—unmistakably Fu Jue's.
Fu Jue was truly dead, and in the most gruesome way imaginable: devoured by a statue, without a sound, leaving not even a bone behind.
Even the representatives who had wished him dead couldn't help but feel a chilling sense of shared mortality.
They should have been celebrating, exulting in their victory. But at that moment, no one could manage a smile. They averted their eyes in unison, unable to look at those bloody glasses, as if they were a terrible omen or proof of their own guilt.
After a two-second silence, someone sent a silent message through their Teaming Ring. "The identity card? Has anyone seen the Fallen Savior card?"
The answer was no. The card had vanished along with Fu Jue, as quietly and naturally as a tropical forest swallowed by a downpour.
And then the players remembered. Since the appearance of the revelation stele, there hadn't been a single case confirming that an identity card would materialize upon its holder's death rather than be directly reclaimed by the Weird Game.
Now, they had their case. They had killed Fu Jue, and the identity card had died with him. The Weird Investigation Bureau had lost the Fallen Savior card, and they were the culprits.
The higher-ups wouldn't listen to their explanations, nor would they admit that the operation had been tacitly approved by certain influential figures. They would only see the result: due to a single miscalculation, the Weird Investigation Bureau had lost its seat corresponding to the Fallen Savior card.
They would be punished. The representatives' faces turned grim, like children who had made a terrible mistake and were now praying it was all just a bad dream.
They stood in silence as a paralyzing fear spread through the room, like an ancient, ignorant tribe that had mistakenly killed its shaman and now huddled around the body, waiting helplessly for the gods' judgment.
"The Final Instance is still a long way off. I don't think the Weird Game would be so impatient to reclaim an identity card. Otherwise, it wouldn't have bothered distributing them in the first place."
The tall woman's voice broke the silence. "I can understand everyone's desire for the Fallen Savior card. It's only human nature to hide and quietly bind it after obtaining it.
"But I hope we can get some confirmation. At the very least, let the others know that the Fallen Savior card is still under the Bureau's control."
Every player wearing a Teaming Ring heard her voice, and for a moment, it was as if they had been thrown a lifeline.
The outcome of "the card was claimed by one of the players" was far better than "the card was reclaimed by the game" or "Fu Jue only faked his death." They were inclined to believe the former.
Besides, they were all seasoned veterans—old foxes, every one of them—and knew each other's characters well enough. In an instant, suspicion began to replace their anxiety, spreading like a fog through their ranks.
Father Laki entered the room at that moment, his face a mask of sorrow and grief. "Last night, a heretic killed one of the Lord's believers. He was such a poor child. May the Lord protect him.
"I hope that through your discussion, you can find that cruel heretic and deliver the punishment he deserves."
The players had no objections. They returned in small groups to the hall with the long table, leaving Blaylen's body in its pool of blood, his unseeing eyes staring up at the ceiling.
Once everyone was seated again, Father Laki spread his arms and announced, "Before the voting begins, one of you must become the Son of God to preside over this judgment. Who among you is willing to be the Son of God?"
After Fu Jue's death, the representatives were no longer so keen on the position of Son of God. After all, who knew what kind of trap it might hide? After a long silence, William raised his hand with a wry smile. "If no one else is willing, then I'll do it."
A smile touched Father Laki's lips. A black cross pendant, identical to the symbol of a certain real-world religion, appeared in his hands. He held the cord with both hands in a solemn, dignified manner and slowly placed the pendant around William's neck.
The black cross hung against William's gray tank top, looking awkward and almost comically out of place.
Father Laki's gaze was filled with earnest expectation, its meaning unclear. "I am pleased you have the courage to take on this responsibility. You now have half an hour to discuss. Please determine the heretic's identity before time is up."
With that, he produced an hourglass from his robes and inverted it in the center of the long table.
As the fine sand began to trickle through the narrow opening, Father Laki vanished, leaving the distracted players behind.
They had little interest in the faction task of identifying the heretic. Not only had Fu Jue and Blaylen been killed by the representatives using the effect of a "record," but even if a real heretic was responsible, the clues from the body alone were insufficient to pinpoint a specific person. It would be nothing more than a wild guess.
Giles was the first to speak. "Let's consolidate the clues for the main quest. Last night, I triggered another ending..."
He briefly recounted the contents of Ending Two, including his own speculations—that the original Holy Lord had been supplanted by an evil god, and this new god was the source of all the strangeness in the instance.
As he spoke, the players' gazes toward Qi Si, who sat at the head of the table, grew warier, now tinged with a hint of probing curiosity.
The god-level NPC was undoubtedly the final boss of Ending Two, an unsolvable existence. Since they couldn't use weapon-type items or attack others, there had to be some bloodless way to clear the instance.
Thompson thought for a moment, then said, "I suspect there are other ways to achieve these two endings besides unlocking them with the kindling. If we could somehow prevent these endings from ever happening, wouldn't that also count as completing the main quest?"
That made sense. The main quest's narration had said: "The crisis of death is imminent. Only by uncovering the truth before the ending arrives can there be a glimmer of hope."
So if they could stop the crisis beforehand, the logic behind the quest would collapse, and the problem would naturally solve itself.
Fujiwara Shinno smiled. "Take Ending One, for example. We could simply tell the priests in advance that the believers might overthrow their rule, and let them kill those heretics early."
The last grain of sand fell through the hourglass, and Father Laki reappeared before the players with a gentle smile. Everyone held their breath, awaiting his next instruction.
Father Laki looked at William, his voice serene. "Child, can you tell me who the heretic is?"
His flawless smile seemed utterly eerie in the shifting light, like a lifelike statue—so similar to a human, yet completely devoid of life, enough to stir one's deepest fears of the supernatural.
William froze, his expression stiffening. "I'm not sure yet. Can we not choose right now?"
He had volunteered for the role of Son of God to fulfill his duty as a leader, but he had never intended to sentence an innocent person to death. If he chose wrong, he would never be able to forgive himself.
Father Laki looked at him with pity. "Child, you are the Son of God, watched over by the Lord. Follow your heart. You need only tell me, who do you most wish to judge?"
He was practically telling him to pick someone at random.
Silence enveloped the grand hall of the temple. Every player stared motionlessly at William, waiting for him to make the final judgment.
Father Laki's words took on a threatening edge. "Your time is running out. If you do not make a choice, I can only assume that you are the heretic."
The temperature in the temple began to drop at a palpable rate. The eyes of the gods in the murals on the vaulted ceiling opened in unison, their cold gazes fixed on the players below.
Thompson suddenly spoke up. "Forgive me, Father Laki, but we haven't had a chance to vote yet. Please allow us to follow the rules we established yesterday."
Father Laki smiled and nodded. "Given that this is your first time participating in a judgment, I can grant you another five minutes. Of course, this will be the only exception."
Thompson immediately pointed at the short-haired girl. "I vote for her," he declared decisively.
The moment he spoke, the short-haired girl's face went pale.
"I'm not a heretic!" she cried out, pulling a History Page from her robes and making a move to show it. "I can show you my identity card!"
She had been afraid of being targeted by heretics and hadn't dared to reveal her identity, but now, she had no other choice.
But a second later, she froze mid-motion, as if flash-frozen by a sudden arctic blast, unable to move another inch.
"No player may show their identity card to another."
The system notification echoed through the hall, audible to every player.
Unable to present her identity, she couldn't effectively prove her innocence, even if she truly was a believer. When you want to condemn someone, any excuse will do.
Most of them understood why Thompson had targeted the short-haired girl: she had obtained the record, "God says, thou shalt not forsake the assembling," and her skill was "to convene a new judgment outside of the scheduled sessions."
Judging by the current situation, the more blind judgments that were held, the more likely it was that an innocent person would be killed. To reduce the potential for unnecessary casualties, she had to be the one to die.
The voting proceeded methodically. Four abstained, five pointed at the short-haired girl, and she, in turn, pointed at Thompson.
Then, in the final second, Thompson abruptly switched his aim, pointing directly at Qi Si, who sat calmly at the head of the table.
Qi Si saw a faint, silvery-gray light flash in his eyes.