Chapter 393: The Orator |
"I'm curious who you'll vote for tomorrow morning." In Room 0, Qi Si leaned back on the bed, a slight smile on his face as he watched Fu Jue, who sat on the edge.
With three puppets, a teammate who had become completely obedient after being threatened, and Fu Jue himself, the Puppet Master's faction numbered five in total. In theory, they could pool their votes to decide anyone's fate.
It was known that none of the Weird Investigation Bureau's representatives were heretics. Thompson, however, was the Son of God, who was required to vote for a heretic—a wrong choice would mean his death. If a heretic were chosen from among the four representatives, Fu Jue's side would lose two members, a definite disadvantage for him.
As for choosing a real heretic...
With the record "Let the dead bury their dead" in play, Qi Si himself couldn't be an option. The choice was limited to Asakura Yuko and Vader. And Asakura Yuko, as the holder of the Taboo Scholar identity card, needed to survive a while longer.
By that calculation, it seemed there was only one option left.
But all of this was predicated on the absence of the record "The Son of God is nailed to the cross." Fu Jue had never publicly disclosed what effect that record had.
"'The Son of God is nailed to the cross' is a prophecy," Fu Jue replied, his tone flat and unruffled, clearly understanding Qi Si's probing. "And all prophecies must come to pass. The fate of the Son of God identity is already sealed, which is the theoretical basis for my plan against the Ancestral God. After tomorrow, that identity slot must be vacated, and the choice of a new candidate must be left completely uncertain. In this land that once fanatically worshipped a god, I will annihilate the very god they believe in, as the grand unveiling of an age without gods."
Qi Si's eyes lit up in understanding, and he chuckled. "A great sacrifice. Even I can't help but feel a sliver of admiration for you."
Nothing that happened in the Holy City escaped the Ancestral God's sight, including their current plotting. They laid out their plans, a mix of truths and falsehoods, right in the open. With all sides of the game now possessing equal information, the next move depended on whether the omniscient, omnipotent Ancestral God was willing to risk entering the game.
This was an open conspiracy, a gamble in which all men and gods would take part.
...
In the cemetery of the Holy City, Flor's corpse crawled out from a pile of bodies under the cover of night and staggered toward the East District.
He blended into the shambling horde of corpses, slowly making his way to the side of the street. He raised a stiff hand and began knocking on the windows of the houses, one by one.
"Knock, knock, knock..."
The sharp raps were impossible to ignore in the silent night. Terrified screams and trembling prayers emanated from within the houses. The residents clearly mistook him for one of the temptations and dangers of the night, terrified of falling into a trap of depravity.
Flor didn't care. Or rather, as a corpse that had been dead for some time, dragged back to the mortal realm from hell by an evil god's power, he had already lost his soul. The emotion of "caring" was an impossibility.
He finished knocking on one door and moved to the next, continuing his methodical rapping. Soon, the entire Holy City echoed with the "knock, knock, knock" of his summons.
Some of the curious cautiously drew back their curtains, peering through the slits at the scene outside. The sight of roaming corpses sent them into shrieks of terror.
But then they realized something. They had not "fallen" as the priests had warned. They were still human, still alive, and they had not turned into heretics.
More and more people witnessed the scene unfolding in the city, discovering discrepancies that contradicted the priests' sermons. A few bold individuals pushed open their doors and stepped out, standing on the chaotic streets to survey their surroundings.
They beheld a sight that would be seared into their memories forever: a massive, pulsating tumor of flesh, glowing with a faint golden light, hung suspended above the grand temple. Gnarled, twisted blood vessels writhed across its surface, spreading out like the roots of a colossal tree to every corner of the Holy City.
The glass jars filled with flesh and blood had been placed on the streets. The corpses formed long lines, one after another leaping into the jars to become part of the gory contents, in a grotesque parody of the donations the believers had made during the day.
The tumor's blood vessels plunged into the glass jars, sucking and pulsing as they drew sustenance from the flesh within. Its surface began to glow with a brilliant golden light, the very same divine radiance described in legends.
The believers realized in unison that their donations had all been offered to this horrifying entity. This... thing was the so-called danger of the Holy City's nights, the secret the priests had desperately tried to keep from them.
They refused to believe that this foul thing was their god. So, a more palatable explanation began to spread: the priests had fallen. They had exploited their faith in the Holy City to pledge allegiance to an evil god. The nights of the Holy City had been seized by this malevolent being, and their own god was now locked in a desperate struggle against it.
"No wonder the more we donated, the longer the nights became! Those priests deceived us!"
"Heavens! What have we done? If it weren't for Flor, we would still be in the dark..."
"Oh, Holy Lord! Please, tell us how we can help you!"
Flor stood in the center of the crowd and showed everyone the healed gash on his neck—a miracle akin to resurrection. This further convinced the people that he carried a message from the true god: a true god loved the world and would never let them suffer so.
He drew a parchment scroll from his robes. Like the prophet Moses in a religious painting, he raised his right hand high and let the fierce night wind unfurl the scroll.
The characters written on it were not large, but everyone, near or far, could see them with perfect clarity, as if they were brands seared upon their very souls:
"The Lord of Gods, exiled beyond the world's rules."
"The Soul Master, wielder of the authority of contracts and transactions."
"A great being, older than history itself."
...
Long before the finale began, Qi Si had already replaced every mention of the Ancestral God's name in the Holy City with his own.
When the faith of all believers was directed at him, then from the perspective of the city created by the Ancestral God, everyone had become a heretic.
Heretics were not protected by the rules of the Holy City and could be killed by anyone. The initial restriction, "No one may attack another within the Holy City," which had been imposed on everyone, naturally vanished into thin air.
The silver-white eye embedded in the night sky continued to watch over the city, as calm and detached as the ancient moon and stars that had revolved through countless days and nights, unmoved by the actions of mortals.
Asakura Yuko suddenly felt a sharp pain in her chest. She looked up at the sky, her gaze passing through the ceiling and across the vast distance to meet that eye. She had a gut feeling she had seen eyes like that before, a long, long time ago...
"Yuko, what are you looking at?" Vader asked.
"An eye. It might belong to a god," Asakura Yuko answered truthfully, then asked, "You can't see it?"
Vader looked up at the ceiling, craning his neck this way and that. He stood up and paced around the room before shaking his head. "Don't scare me. I don't see anything."
"Right, there's nothing there. I was just kidding," Asakura Yuko said casually, suddenly realizing she had told another lie.
Since entering this instance, most of her actions had involved deception, not only toward NPCs but also toward other players. And yet, to the person she was six years ago, deceit and concealment were the most despicable of all sins...
Threads of blood began to seep into the eye in the heavens, its brilliance dimming with the passage of time. Asakura Yuko felt as if she had been jolted awake from a nightmare. The world before her sharpened, as if a filter had been removed.
A memory, once hidden by some external force, suddenly emerged from the fog and grew vivid in the dark recesses of her mind.
It was a mobilization rally held by the Balance Church. She and Zou Yan were in the crowd, and the one presiding was White Crow.
She couldn't recall the specific content of the speech, but she remembered with perfect clarity that the spectral image of the Visionary Orator identity card had materialized behind White Crow.
On the card's face, a figure in white robes faced the crowd, arms outstretched as if calling them to action.
Countless white doves flew from the figure's wide sleeves. Starting from their tails and wingtips, their feathers turned black, and they settled on the shoulder of every person in the audience, finally transforming into black crows.
Asakura Yuko subconsciously raised a hand to her right shoulder. When she lowered it, her palm held a cluster of black crow feathers.
["Visionary Orator" hidden effect: "There Is But One God"...]
[Note: You are the one true sun. Your light illuminates all, and your thoughts are the thoughts of all...] The scenes of the past resurfaced before her eyes—every killing and sacrifice, every time she pushed an innocent person to their death, all while believing she was on the righteous path. Every member of the Balance Church had become an extension of White Crow's will...
A bone-deep chill instantly spread through Asakura Yuko's heart.
"Yuko, what's wrong?" Vader stared at her, his eyes full of suspicion. "Did you trigger some kind of mechanism? You don't look so good. You're not about to die, are you?"
Asakura Yuko said nothing. She walked straight out of the room as if she hadn't heard Vader's question.
The moment she stepped over the threshold and turned to close the door, a dispassionate announcement echoed above her head:
[You are a believer of the night. Please go out and select a target.]
[If you have decided who to kill, knock on their door three times.]
Her steps faltered slightly, and she glanced at the door behind her.
Vader had noticed her strange behavior. Given his personality, he would surely find an opportunity to kill her to eliminate any future threat—unless she struck first.
She was a heretic, with one kill still available to her. Should she really use it here?
Asakura Yuko remained silent for a long time. Finally, she made a decision. She pulled a yellowed History Page from her pocket, picked up a pen, and began to write furiously.
...
In the room, Vader watched Asakura Yuko's back disappear behind the door, the casual expression vanishing from his face.
He might be a combat-focused player, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell that barely a word out of Asakura Yuko's mouth was true and that she was hiding a great deal from him.
Before, their interests hadn't clashed. On the contrary, cooperating had made exploration easier, so he had been happy to play the fool, letting her take the lead while he kept a few trump cards to himself.
But now, as more and more inconsistencies came to light, the veneer of peace could no longer be maintained. Vader knew it was time to make a decision.
As the youngest son of a federal council director, he was destined to be kept far from politics, but he still enjoyed privileges that allowed him to act with impunity, as long as he didn't go too far.
When it came to not placing much value on human life, he was second to none. No matter how dazzling a player's reputation was, to him, it was just a name.
Besides, this Asakura Yuko woman wasn't even famous. If she weren't an identity card holder, no one would even know she existed.
Vader sneered and opened the History Page in his hand. Written on it was a single record: [Offer the soul and flesh of the sacrifice to the god].
He had acquired this record the previous night while exploring the temple's courtyard. Its effect was to kill any one player or NPC in the instance. He had already written Asakura Yuko's number on the back of the page. All he had to do was tear it.
As the sound of tearing paper filled the room, a heavy "thud" echoed from outside the door.
Vader thought to himself, *Just as I expected.* Asakura Yuko hadn't left at all. She was likely just outside the door, plotting how to kill him. If he hadn't acted faster, he would be the one dead right now.
A flicker of fear passed through him, but it was quickly overshadowed by a thrill that danced on the edge of life and death. He had been on the verge of being backstabbed by a teammate, but he had managed to backstab her first. The drama was exhilarating.
Humming a little tune, Vader got up and opened the door. He looked down at Asakura Yuko's pale corpse, his eyes falling on the Heretic identity card crystallizing above her body, and felt another jolt of how close he had come.
After all, the ability of a heretic to kill was written into the instance's mechanics. It was likely a much simpler process than his own.
A few sheets of paper were scattered near the body's hand, covered in dense ink—clues, it seemed.
Vader bent down and picked up the topmost page. As he scanned its contents, his eyes narrowed.
Written on it in neat script were the words:
[Vader, there are some things that will decide your life or death that I didn't tell you before. I will explain them to you now:
You need to understand that tomorrow's vote will not be in your favor. At least four people belong to the same faction and can pool their votes to decide anyone's fate. After I am dead, you will be their only target.
But you don't have to just wait to die. Bind with the Taboo Scholar identity card immediately. Find Fu Jue. As a cardholder, you can negotiate with him as an equal and form a partnership. Ending this instance before the vote begins is your only way out.
Leaving the instance doesn't mean you'll be safe. Every current identity card holder has a guild backing them. As a freelance player, you will become a target for everyone. I trust you're not stupid enough to misunderstand the logic behind this.
I belong to both the Listening Wind Guild and the Balance Church. By inheriting my identity card, you have cost both factions their chance to compete in the Final Instance. They will not let you go.
Go to the Listening Wind Guild's station in the Sunset Ruins and find President Yu. He will protect you. Of course, you could also go straight into the Babylon Tower, if you're not afraid of dying.]
Vader laughed coldly and tore the page in his hand to shreds. The white and yellow scraps of paper fluttered down like dead leaves.
He grinned, revealing a row of stark white teeth. "This woman knew I was going to kill her. So she wrote all this nonsense, thinking she could scare me?"
The dead tell no tales. On Asakura Yuko's corpse, a new card solidified: a black-robed figure holding a book, with countless black tentacles writhing beneath its sleeves, merging into a darkness so thick it seemed tangible...
It was the Taboo Scholar identity card.
Vader pinched the card between two fingers. Black, web-like patterns spread up his veins, and a torrent of knowledge crashed against his skull, bringing with it a phantom pain.
The card's effect appeared in the top left of his vision: [When upright, you can wield the pen to rewrite the historical trajectory of this world...]
Asakura Yuko's past words echoed in his ears:
"There's no point. Even if I told you the truth, you wouldn't necessarily believe me. So it's better not to say anything."
"I already told you my identity card's effect is to record history. I'm just as confused as you are about how things turned out this way."
Vader's expression turned strange. A muscle in his eye twitched, as if he found it amusing, or perhaps ironic. Finally, his face settled into a look of stunned bewilderment.
His lips trembled, and he managed to force out a single sentence. "Ha. So she wasn't lying after all..."
A black mist flowed slowly, tracing bizarre patterns in the air. The sound of footsteps, like a hallucination, appeared and then faded, putting his nerves on high alert.
A flat, cold male voice spoke from nearby. "It seems you've decided on the final survivor. We can now proceed to the next phase of the plan."
Vader spun around at the sound. A figure in a black suit had appeared abruptly at the end of the corridor. The eyes behind his glasses held no emotion. It was Fu Jue, who was supposed to be dead.
"So you really didn't die," Vader said, his voice cold. Asakura Yuko's earlier assessment surfaced in his mind unbidden.
Had she known all of this? Ha, of course she had. That's why she deliberately chose to die, to leave this mess for him...
Malice brewed in Vader's heart, making his tone even sharper. "It's not like I have any other choice. Let's hear your plan."
Fu Jue nodded slightly and began walking toward him. "Right now, I need you to bind with the Taboo Scholar identity card immediately."