Pope.
In Blasphemia’s reports, this position was only listed as a “theoretical existence.” It referred to the supreme commander revered by all sects united under one banner.
I had always thought that Blasphemia exaggerated this information merely to secure more funds from the Ten Towers.
A political show—exaggerating threats to justify a larger budget for dealing with these “powerful dangers.”
When Danao and I waged guerrilla warfare against Blasphemia, we infiltrated some of their branch databases several times.
But there wasn’t a single piece of concrete information about the coalition of sects ruled by the Pope.
The Pope was supposed to be the representative of all sects, so the election required participation from multiple sects.
However, in the current situation, most sects have gone underground due to Blasphemia’s persecution. Holding an election that requires gathering many sects seemed impossible.
“Was there really a Pope? And a coalition of sects?”
This sudden revelation left me stunned because the original story barely touched on any of this.
In the distant past, it was the Wizard King who drove the sects into decline, but according to the original narrative, his true adversaries were the Ten Towers. When Baegmun (the original Carisia) died, starting the second part of the story, extraplanar beings emerged as new enemies.
“The purpose of the sects of the gods that disappeared in the original story is….”
It felt like they were akin to mines extracting relics such as the artifact of Phobos I now possessed—like a bank where the Wizard King could withdraw tools he needed, saying things like, “Back in the day, I sealed away temples like this.”
Clearly, some aspects of the world setting from the original still hold true today.
But why are there differences?
“Is it because the year 2077 hasn’t come yet, when the Wizard King is supposed to resurrect? Perhaps between now and then, the coalition of sects collapses completely under Blasphemia?”
Still, the current Blasphemia is far weaker than its counterpart in the original story.
The reason lies in the internal conflict following the survivors of the Golden Desert Operation becoming Erosionists. Dealing with that drained their resources for external operations.
Who reduced Blasphemia’s strength by one or two levels by burying their top agents in another dimension?
Danao and me.
Haha, d*mn.
Did we bring this calamity upon ourselves?
A hollow laugh escaped me.
At first, Sikton saw the man before him merely as a sacrifice, but not anymore. This man, who had been granted the artifact of Phobos, possessed both faith and might worthy of divine favor.
His eyes, however, resembled those of a snake—an incongruity with the distant gaze expected of a servant of Phobos. Though his eyelids remained half-closed, almost as if hiding something, this contradiction created an unsettling pressure.
An old proverb came to mind: contradictions carry power.
The man holding the crystal artifact suddenly let out a derisive laugh, an ominous chill spreading through the air.
Instinctively, Sikton interpreted this laughter as mockery, implying, “Even though you know my identity, you still dare to resist?”
“Undoubtedly, the supremacy of the delusionary powers bestowed by Bacchus upon me surpasses the crystal artifact you possess from Phobos.”
Divine power is the ability granted by gods to their believers. In this world, where divine power has grown faint compared to ancient times, the absolute amount of divine power granted has inevitably diminished.
On the other hand, artifacts like these are relics from an age when gods directly communicated with their priests—a time of ancient mysteries. The divine power contained within these relics overwhelms modern priests in both quantity and quality.
“But listen. You, high priest of Phobos, the Theistic Order would call me a traitor, wouldn’t they? Yet wasn’t it they who betrayed the gods first?”
“High Priest, does that seem fitting to you?”
“Stop trying to deceive me. If you managed to escape Blasphemia’s pursuit while wielding such powerful artifacts, who else could possibly be the high priest of the Phobos Cult?”
“Actually, this artifact is unknown even to Blasphemia.”
I considered saying this but decided against it. Right now, extracting more information was more important.
“Betrayal.”
I tried to deduce what the bishop of the Bacchus Cult intended to do with the magic circle drawn here.
Think about the vision revealed by the artifact. The bishop sacrifices chimeras and other offerings to create something.
The bl**d condensed from these sacrifices. Considering this is the Bacchus Cult, could it be a kind of wine?
After drinking it, both his body and the space around him disintegrated.
Wine created by offering sacrifices to the gods. While destroying people alone might go unnoticed, destroying space and opening a rift to another dimension isn’t something ordinary wine can achieve.
“You sought to trespass into the divine domain. To ascend to the realm of demigods by drinking Bacchus’ wine, did you not?”
“Does the Theistic Order say that? The foresight granted by Phobos pierces through the veil of delusions but fails to perceive human malice.”
A word repeated often—the Theistic Order. It seemed to be the name of the coalition that elects the Pope.
“You cannot withstand divine power.”
“That is precisely what I desire!”
Suddenly, the bishop shouted, having previously acted as if on d*ath’s doorstep.
“The Theistic Order seeks to abandon the gods! They claim the gods abandoned us, so we should abandon them too! Do you think that makes sense? No! No!”
The bishop screamed fiercely but soon seemed exhausted, leaning heavily on his staff and panting.
“The Pope… surely you find it hard to believe he said such things. But it’s the truth. Use Phobos’ power to verify the truth of my words.”
“Assuming your words are true, how does ascending to the rank of a demigod relate to your loyalty to the gods?”
“Hahahaha,” a low chuckle echoed through the cave.
“Didn’t you say it yourself? That I cannot withstand divine power. I never intended to endure it. As my body imbued with Bacchus’ divinity is destroyed… I become a gateway connected to His palace.”
‘Is he insane?’
What the old man was saying was that after his d*ath, he intended to open a portal to another dimension, connecting the gods’ thrones directly to this world.
If you attack the dimensional barrier with overwhelming force, you can indeed break it.
But how can you guarantee what lies beyond the broken barrier? Will it lead to Bacchus’ vineyard, Phobos’ shooting range, or the maw of some nameless abomination?
Seemingly unaware of my shock, the old man babbled on, claiming to be the bishop of Bacchus.
“If the gods return to this world directly, the Pope will change his mind. Those detestable members of Blasphemia and the Ten Towers behind them will be wiped out! How wonderful would that be?”
This verged on grandiose delusion.
“Is there a method to coordinate a connection with another dimension? You’re chasing an empty dream.”
“There exists a secret sacred prayer passed down since ancient times. I stole it from the hidden archives of the Theistic Order. They’ve kept so much from us.”
Sacred Prayer. A holy invocation to invoke miracles through divine power. It could also be called divine magic, which is appropriate enough, though there are notable differences in the details.
“A sacred prayer to explore another dimension. I will use the divine essence of Bacchus residing within me to locate the coordinates of Heaven.”
*
Sikton laid bare all his plans and looked at Ortes. If this high priest of Phobos agreed with his plan, the chances of success would increase significantly.
Isn’t he a seer of the future? Wouldn’t identifying and improving the causes of failure in a failed future suffice?
“Only Sect Leaders attend the meetings of the Theistic Order. The head of the Phobos Sect didn’t resemble you. Learning that the leaders of the sects approved the plan to abandon the gods must shake his faith.”
And that wavering of faith falls squarely within the expertise of Bacchus’ priests. Isn’t intoxication, excitement, and euphoria the very essence of wine?
While the veil of illusion cannot obscure the seer’s sight, the aroma of wine can amplify the simmering anger in his heart and foster compassion towards oneself.
A subtle fragrance of grapes spread throughout the cave.
Sikton noticed Ortes tightening his grip on the sword.
“It’s done!”
“Ortes.”
The high priest of Phobos approached. Through the narrow slit of his eyelids, blue irises were visible.
How does he know my name? Did the Theistic Order tell him? No, perhaps it’s the unique power of seers.
‘Since he addressed me by name, our emotional distance must have shortened considerably. But it’s not enough. If he realizes I secretly used the sacred prayer, everything could unravel.’
“I have something to say to you.”
Sikton opened his arms wide and smiled at Ortes, a gesture of welcoming a comrade sharing the same righteous cause.
Clang.
In the next moment, his head flew through the air.
‘Why?’
In his fading life, Sikton heard Ortes’ final words:
“d*e alone if you must.”
