Chapter 263 Fall
The result was rejected.
Last night's night visit to the church had failed, and he was dragged to the church early this morning for morning prayers. Without the stimulation of coffee, the professor was extremely sleepy. He could only sullenly blend in with the group of white-robed priests and stare into the eyes of the blond young man in front of the altar.
His guess was correct. The other party was indeed the "Son of God" of this sect, so he naturally occupied the position on the pulpit, and the archbishop had to sit in the back in disgrace.
The other priests seemed very excited about the appearance of the Son of God. The professor even suspected that their scorching eyes were enough to burn a hole in their robes - but the archbishop should not be among them.
Excellent! He scanned their faces thoughtfully—they weren't on good terms. More precisely, the Saint Son wore the same smile he'd used to reject him the previous night. He couldn't make out much, only a strange sense of unease. But the Archbishop's expression was a rich tapestry of doubt, bewilderment, apprehension, and even fear...
The black-haired young man lowered his eyes expressionlessly.
If someone who knew him well saw him like this, they would know that he was about to plot against someone. But at this moment, he was well hidden among the people praying, and when the archbishop looked over, he immediately opened his mouth and pretended to be extremely docile and pious.
The believers loudly praised the God of Light and Glory, and the man beside him was particularly excited. The professor couldn't help but frown. This man was the first priest he had seen yesterday, the one he had named "Elian." But yesterday he had seemed normal, but now he was crying, his hands raised high, and shaking as if he had a seizure.
He calmly took a few steps back, moving further away from the crowd.
The priest seemed overly excited. Suddenly, his eyes rolled back, and he foamed at the mouth as he collapsed, his body arched to the extreme, his neck vertebrae cracking with a teeth-grinding sound. His face flushed horribly, and his blood vessels seemed to have burst, revealing hideous spider-web-like patterns.
The professor was startled by him. Was he having an epileptic seizure? But the chanting around them had stopped at some point, and the people standing next to the priest pushed each other in fear, leaving a gap and letting their "compatriot" fall to the ground, screaming and convulsing.
"Back off!" the Archbishop shouted, and the surrounding priests made way. Meanwhile, His Excellency the Son of God had already appeared in the central open space of the encirclement, crouching down to check on the other side.
The professor stared at the blond youth's back with some dissatisfaction. Whether intentionally or not, the young man had chosen to block his view, completely obscuring part of his vision and obscuring even the smallest details.
Just as he moved quietly and was about to go in another direction, the priest lying on the ground suddenly let out a shrill wail that was not like a human voice, but sounded like the howl of some wild beast.
There was no need to change the angle now, as everyone present saw that the priest suddenly sat up - to be precise, the man's neck drooped softly backwards, the back of his head almost touching his spine, but his chest was frighteningly high with countless strange bulges, almost bursting the skin, as if some monster was being bred inside.
The skin on the human's face began to peel off in large chunks, revealing the charred, rotten flesh beneath. With a ripping sound, a pair of large bat wings, soaked in a foul-smelling black and red mucus, suddenly burst from behind the priest, splashing a strange liquid that nearly hit the professor in the face.
The monster, which had lost its human form, roared, and its deformed and ugly bat wings were struggling wildly, fanning out a foul-smelling wind, and the dripping mucus directly corroded small holes in the stone bricks.
“Devil!” Amid the cries of many priests, the archbishop slammed his scepter and shouted in anger and grief: “The devil has taken the soul of another of our compatriots, causing him to degenerate into a filthy beast wandering in the abyss! I have long warned you that you must be more sincere, more—”
The professor's eyes trembled as he glanced at the demon-like Son of God who had appeared in the night. The seemingly unsturdy Son of God had grabbed the terrifying head and, without hesitation, slammed it to the ground. A chilling thud, accompanied by the sound of a skull shattering, choked the archbishop's next words.
The unfortunate individual whose soul had been taken by the devil had his head pressed directly into the stone bricks, which immediately shattered into countless pieces. His remaining limbs twitched slightly like a frog being dissected, then fell completely motionless. The executioner simply stood up with an expressionless face, blood dripping down his slender, white fingers.
Professor: Wow.
If this man is a devil, he is really cruel to his "fellow tribesmen".
This extremely harsh and bloody method of execution shocked everyone present, and even the eyes of the priests who could not help but look at the man with fascination turned into fear.
"I'm sorry, what were you about to say?" Seeing the archbishop frozen in place, the Son of God gracefully tilted his head slightly. His robes remained spotless, his expression gentle and calm, but the sight of the shattered corpse at his feet was even more chilling.
But the professor keenly noticed that the man did not seem to be in a good mood.
...Mysophobia?
"I..." The Archbishop's voice was a little stammering, as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. "I mean, only by praying to our God more devoutly can we avoid being seduced and corrupted by the devil..."
"Really?" The other party chuckled with an ambiguous tone. "Then please continue organizing the morning prayer."
So the morning prayers continued, right next to the devil's body.
The professor stared at the unrecognizable corpse, his brows furrowing. The priest had been incredibly pious during their meeting yesterday; the only thing that might be considered "unbecoming" was his decision to back down during the prayer.
Is this the reason for this person's "fall"?
...Or is it related to the "Son of God"?
"Are you interested in this corpse?" A laughing voice whispered in his ear, and the black-haired young man's muscles tensed instantly. The Son of God had appeared behind him at some point, and he could almost feel the warm breath of the Son brushing against the back of his neck.
The professor adjusted his expression, turned around slowly, and the silver dinner knife that had been hidden in his sleeve slid out a little.
"Yes, sir," he explained vaguely, "this is... the first time I've seen the whole thing with my own eyes."
"You're the new intern priest, right?" The man smiled, still with the same gentle and kind expression as last night, as if he wasn't going to delve into the matter further. "Do you need me to give you a private sermon?"
"My apologies, Your Excellency." He bowed slightly, appearing exceptionally respectful. "I was already incredibly rude last night because I didn't know who you were. How could I possibly trouble you further now?"
The black-haired young man's pupils suddenly shrank violently for a moment.
The blond Son of God reached out to him, stroked his cheek with his clean left hand, and slowly wiped away the blood that had been splashed on it at some point with his fingertips.
Seeing him frozen in place, the man straightened his collar as a matter of course, and said softly, in an unusually gentle but pointed tone, "You should be more careful, Father Elian."
The professor watched the other person's leaving figure and slowly frowned.
Is this... threatening him?
It was another day when everything around him kept reminding him to pray to the statue.
"Erian" completed the map of the entire Cathedral of Redemption, figured out all the secret passages, listened to various life stories of people who did not pray well and became devils, and all the coffee for three meals disappeared - when he lay exhausted in bed, he felt that the purpose of this world was so clear that it was almost boring.
——They used "rules" to pressure him, forcing him to pray to the statue of the God of Light and Glory, perhaps for the sake of "dedicating his soul."
It wasn't difficult for him to see through the group's purpose; the hard part was escaping from this haunted place. Perhaps that strange "Son of God" would be a breakthrough...
The black-haired young man gradually fell into a deep sleep. But as the night deepened, his body involuntarily curled up, his brows slowly furrowed, and a faint moan escaped his teeth. Even in his coma, a burning, roiling fire seemed to gradually gather deep in his lower abdomen, surging down along his tailbone. This strange burning heat unexpectedly woke him up.
He suddenly opened his eyes in the middle of the night, sleepy and irritable.
Something seemed to be poking him from behind. The professor instinctively reached out to grab it, but an unexpected, intense stimulation, like a fierce electric current, shot up his tailbone and straight to the top of his head. The black-haired young man let out an unmistakable groan and fell back onto the bed, trembling and curling up. The thing was flapping uncontrollably against the quilt, making a snapping sound.
It took him a long time to recover from the strange stimulation, and then he realized that his body seemed to have undergone some ominous changes. The black-haired young man stood up suddenly, stood in front of the mirror, lit the oil lamp, and turned his head with a gloomy face to look at -
It was a devil's tail.
In the dim light of the oil lamp, the pitch-black tail twitched restlessly, its sharp stinger at the end gleaming with a cold metallic gleam. At this moment, the tail, in its owner's panic, repeatedly slapped the floor, sending gravel flying and scratching deep grooves into the hard bricks.
The black-haired young man's lips were tightly pursed. He resisted the strange stimulation and carefully and gently grasped the organ that did not belong to a human. The tentacles were smooth and cold, with small and delicate scales neatly arranged like snakes. As the breathing rate slightly expanded and contracted, it emitted a faint smell of sulfur.
He gritted his teeth, groping carefully, bit by bit, inch by inch, until he gently pressed against the part that grew from his tailbone. Suddenly, an unprecedented surge of stimulation, like a heavy hammer hitting his nerve endings, made his feet give way, and he fell to his knees, his kneecaps bruised and painful. The figure in the mirror was a horrible mess, his hair disheveled, his chest heaving rapidly, his knuckles clenched against the floor, pale and blue. Cold sweat trickled down his pale neck into his collar, yet his face was flushed with the sickly flush of a high fever.
“Damn it…!”
The professor cursed out loud with all his heart.
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