The protest in Crown Square ultimately ended in tragedy.
According to the on-site investigation, fire and explosions appeared almost simultaneously in three different locations, but no actual burn marks were found; they had merely incited massive panic at the scene. Nearly ten thousand people fled from the square in terror, triggering a massive stampede that left over a hundred dead and hundreds injured. The city center was strewn with corpses, and the protest fizzled out into nothing.
The consequences were severe. Police from the Hall of Order occupied the scene immediately, special forces from the Four Major Churches took action as well, and various organizations—both in the open and in the shadows—quietly mobilized.
Hundreds of blue uniforms cordoned off the entire plaza, the face of every officer taut with tension, brewing a fierce storm. Those who remained in the square—whether merchants or passersby, injured or unharmed, dead or alive—were detained on the spot without exception. The dead were carted off to the Hall of the Departed, while the living were sent straight to the Hall of Order, where a lengthy interrogation and investigation awaited them, along with endless ensuing trouble.
None of this concerned Lynch anymore, however. Those menacing police officers squeezed out awkward smiles as a man in a black formal suit, allegedly the commissioner, personally led a team to respectfully escort him past the cordon. They did not leave until they had escorted him all the way into the Black Night Cathedral.
Of course, to be precise, they were escorting the old man he had crossed paths with; Lynch was merely “accompanying personnel.”
The old man had lied. He was not actually a bishop of the Church of the Black Night.
He was the head of the Rhine diocese for the Church of the Black Night—Archbishop Trinlais.
Blocked by the protest on his way from home to the cathedral, he had happened across Lynch, who was also heading for the Church of the Black Night, and brought him back along with him.
A scepter of dazzling, iridescent black—the holy emblem of the Goddess of the Night—hung high above the cathedral's entrance.
This was the sacred Black Night Cathedral.
The black dome, dotted with flecks of gold, symbolized the boundless night sky.
Beneath the dome, a divine statue held a scepter aloft, looking down upon all living beings. Its face was blurred and indistinct, signifying that mortals could never comprehend the meaning of a deity.
Knowing Lynch was not a believer of the Black Night, Trinlais did not take him to pay respects before the Goddess. Instead, he led him straight into a reception room, took the letter of introduction Lynch handed over, and began reading it.
By now, the old man had changed into a black priestly robe tied with a sash adorned with five golden stars, instantly transforming from an ordinary, leisurely old man into an elder steeped in religious gravity.
Lynch looked at him with curiosity. After all, he had never imagined that in this transcendent world, someone holding a high position in charge of an entire diocese would actually be an ordinary person.
Not only had the voice in his head confirmed it, but Trinlais himself had acknowledged that he was merely an ordinary old man who possessed nothing more than a bit of negligible martial skill.
“There's nothing surprising about it, child. Many churches have bishops like me. What the church values is a devout heart toward the Goddess and who can better serve Her and the church; combat is merely one way of serving. Just like what happened outside: the direct follow-up will naturally be handled by the Nightwalker Agency, but how to handle it depends on devotion to the Goddess.”
No, I bet it depends on experience and political maneuvering. It has nothing to do with devotion.
Still, that made some sense. Those who wielded martial might did not necessarily sit at the pinnacle of power; it all came down to checks and balances.
Lynch nodded and said gratefully, “I'm fortunate to have been with you. Otherwise, I imagine the police would have badgered me for days, and I wouldn't have been able to get anything done.”
“Heh, the Lord favors every child with kindness in their heart.” The old man looked up from the letter of introduction, winking playfully. “Especially a child who secretly shielded an old man from the pressing crowd the entire way; such a child deserves the Lord's favor all the more. Not to mention, this child also helped me retrieve a strange mystery relic.”
“About that relic... what actually happened on the square? For such a massive incident to break out so suddenly.”
“We don't know yet, but the fallout will certainly be severe. It's likely connected to the protest and the Bester Tunnel incident. The tunnel involves power struggles among multiple factions, child, so don't pry any further. For a living being about to step into the world of mystery, curiosity is your mortal enemy. Remember this: curiosity is the highway to the Netherworld, and traffic is never jammed. As for the investigation, don't worry—your screening concluded alongside mine, so it won't interfere with your business.”
As Trinlais explained, he folded the letter of introduction and handed it back to Lynch. In truth, this letter had not been addressed to someone of his rank at all—the gap was several tiers wide—but it was certainly better that he had been willing to read it.
“Praise the Serene Night. I understand your situation now. As fellow guardians of regional stability under the Goddess's guidance, we are willing to walk shoulder to shoulder with the Watchers. I believe all churches serving the deities share this sentiment.”
Does this mean he agreed? Lynch breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
Ever since receiving the letter of introduction, he had actually been feeling uneasy, though he preferred not to show it. In movies and TV shows, churches were always portrayed as stubborn, dogmatic fools, and Lynch had feared they would not honor the letter.
Only now did the weight finally lift from his chest.
“Child, do not think of us as overly pedantic. This is already the age of steam and technology. Even the most conservative church has plenty of secular people like me.”
Indeed, Lynch felt that aside from occasionally speaking in roundabout ways, the old man was no different from any other secular elder.
“Times have changed. To maintain regional stability and preserve the populace's faith, we do strictly guard forbidden knowledge and divine secrets; we won't leak forbidden knowledge and mysterious powers recklessly just to recruit members like those irresponsible secret societies. But after all, we don't live in the divine realm; we are mortal beings of this mortal world, so we must know how to adapt. It is not the rigid dogma you imagined.”
Lynch nodded with an awkward smile. “Then thank you very much.”
“You're welcome. In truth, we warmly welcome talented and principled young people like you joining the fight against mystery. People always harbor immense fear toward the world of Soul Severers, and even those with talent mostly choose to stay far away. Replenishing quality new blood is no easy feat, and warriors willing to spend their lives following divine guidance to battle mystery are rare nowadays.”
“Because of the threat of madness and losing control?” Lynch recalled what Natalie had said earlier.
“Yes, that is the primary reason. Abnormalities of both mind and flesh are what people dread most, and their concerns are justified. After all, this is a one-way ticket. Once you begin, you can never stop.”
“Hm? Why?”
“Because soul alienation is a very particular technique. Nowadays, we use it to fight the mystery and evil gods of the Dreamlands, but originally, this technique did not exist.”
The old man checked the time on the grandfather clock and leisurely explained:
“At the end of the Mythological Era of the First Age, the gods fell. Living beings lost divine protection and were utterly defenseless against the evil gods and mysteries of the Dreamlands.”
“Pardon the interruption, but what exactly are evil gods? I only know there are cultists who worship them.” Lynch could not help pressing on the biggest question in his mind.
The old man's expression soured, clearly disliking the topic, but he still explained, “Much like the deities of the mortal world, evil gods are high-level existences from the Dreamlands. However, unlike true gods, they do not possess perfected godhood or complete authorities, so their power falls far short of true gods. But after the gods fell, they took advantage of the vulnerable mortal realm to usurp a small portion of divine authority, posing a tremendous threat to the mortal world.”
“Are they very dangerous?”
“Dangerous indeed. Even a 'weak' evil god is still a high-level existence, the very embodiment of mystery. Their true name and visage alone can plunge a person into eternal madness. Their existence is simply not something the fragile mortal world can withstand. If their true body is guided into the mortal realm, it causes catastrophic destruction. In severe cases, it twists entire regions into aberrations, wiping out all life. In even worse cases... hehe. In short, they are exceptionally dangerous, which is why the cultists who serve them are among our greatest enemies.”
“During the Second and Third Ages following the fall of the gods, mortal beings were powerless to resist for tens of thousands of years. It wasn't until the Dawn Age of the Fourth Age, when the twelve true gods successively returned from their slumber, that they guided humanity onto the path of Soul Severers. Only then did mankind gain the power to combat mystery. Though we still lose far more than we win, at least there is hope.”
“Successively returned?” Lynch's heart stirred, as if realizing something. “Only these twelve gods have returned? What about the other deities—will they return one by one as well?”
“The other deities are fallen gods, still slumbering in the Dreamlands. At least for now, none have returned. As for the future...” The old man looked at Lynch, speaking gravely, “Child, mortals should never attempt to comprehend the will and nature of deities. Failing to comprehend is nothing to fear; what is truly terrifying is actually comprehending it. Deities are higher-order existences. The moment the thought to 'attempt comprehension' arises, you are only one step away from madness and losing control. If you are truly unfortunate enough to comprehend it, the forbidden knowledge will instantly and utterly shatter your sanity, whether you are a Soul Severer or not.”
Lynch's lips twitched. Remembering how he had felt when he first heard the voice in his head and tried to understand the nature of its existence, his suspicion regarding the identity of his Travel Companion grew firmer.
But there was no way he could reveal these thoughts to the old man. On the surface, Lynch asked impassively, “Alright, I roughly understand what evil gods are. But why is it that alienation cannot be stopped...?”
“According to the theory of evolution proposed by a folk scholar some years ago, after tens of thousands of years of battling mystery, the souls of ordinary people developed a faint resistance. That is why most ordinary people today remain untouched by mystery and might never encounter it throughout their entire lives—unless an accidental mystery contact shatters this resistance. But once a Soul Severer alienates their soul, that resistance vanishes automatically. From that point on, they are in deep, constant contact with mystery at all times. Resisting its erosion depends entirely on the strength of their soul; the longer it goes on, the more vulnerable the soul becomes to being twisted and assimilated by mystery. Therefore, to ensure their safety, a Soul Severer must advance as quickly as possible, undergoing the next alienation to strengthen their soul. But this presents a major dilemma.”
The old man drew several concentric circles on the coffee table:
“Each alienation entangles the soul deeper with mystery and intensifies the erosion, leaving no choice but to push on toward the next alienation. This creates a perilous cycle—a cycle that cannot be stopped.”
The phrase that immediately popped into Lynch's mind was: drinking poison to quench thirst.
“So, you should understand both the danger and the responsibility now, child.” The old man smiled faintly. “Even knowing all this, do you still wish to become a Soul Severer?”
“Pardon me for asking, sir, but why are you still an ordinary person?”
“The talent for soul alienation is not something everyone possesses. In this lifetime, I am destined to remain an ordinary man, but I hear that you have this talent.”
“Yes, I do. And I don't have the luxury of choice either.”
Lynch closed his eyes in contemplation for a moment, then nodded with a solemn expression. “Then what should I do?”
“First, you need to determine which deity aligns with your inner heart. Because what you are alienating is your own soul, if your soul and inner heart are in conflict after alienation, mystery won't even need to erode you—within days, you will suffer a complete mental breakdown. You understand this logic, yes?”
Lynch nodded. Like organ rejection—every transmigrator understands that.
“The method to confirm it is simple: which true god do you believe in?”
“Huh?” Lynch froze. “I must have faith?”
The old man was also taken aback. “You wish to follow in the footsteps of the deities and emulate divine authority; of course you need divine recognition. This can hardly even be called a condition—it is merely the fundamental requirement for a Soul Severer of the true gods to alienate their soul.”
“But I don't have any faith.” The veins on Lynch's forehead throbbed as he said with a rasp, “I've never believed in any deity.”
“Then that's a problem.” For a moment, the two stared at each other. The old man said in distress, “How could anyone in this world have no faith at all?”
Well, there are souls that don't belong to this world.
Lynch knew he had encountered the most insoluble crisis since his transmigration.
Rate on N.U.
