"My deepest apologies. Transporting the beast to the circle is fraught with instability… But we've ensured no local supplies were requisitioned. There will surely be carts and horses available. At the latest, we will perform the ritual by dawn tomorrow. Please wait a little longer…"
[Ah, my beloved Nicholas. How could I not wait for you? But beware—I am a fickle goddess. You must not delay too long.]
Nicholas gazed at the blood quill with dazed eyes. The artifact floated in the air, exuding a sinister red glow. Behind it, the fleeting figure of a beautiful woman would occasionally appear and vanish.
"Yes, O Goddess of Blood… Your humble servant Nicholas begs for your grace," he murmured, his trembling voice brimming with longing.
The dimly lit ballroom where they resided, shrouded in thick darkness, resonated with the Goddess's eerie laughter—a sound like countless ghosts laughing in unison.
As he awaited the Goddess's blessing, Nicholas grasped the blood quill with trembling hands.
[Nicholas, my loyal servant,] the Goddess's voice resounded from within the quill.
[I know of your devotion. Now, offer me your blood and bring me joy. My joy shall become yours.]
Shaking, Nicholas lifted the quill, already soaked in blood, and plunged it into his body. As his blood flowed into the artifact, its red glow intensified, and it floated higher into the air.
The ballroom's atmosphere grew heavier and more oppressive.
"Receive my blood, O Goddess, and grant me your power," Nicholas prayed, his voice unwavering even in the throes of agony.
Simultaneously, the priests engaged in their debauchery began stabbing and slashing the women in their grasp.
The women screamed and resisted until their last moments, but their efforts were futile. Amid the chaos of cries and splattered blood, the blood quill greedily absorbed every drop of blood that approached it. The scene was nothing short of a vision of hell.
Orpheus, who had been despairing at the sight of the cage and its horrifying contents, suddenly noticed the teleportation circle glowing. Someone was coming.
Should he hide? There was nowhere to conceal himself. In the end, he chose to stand before the cage, adopting a solemn stance. After all, the only people who could arrive here were either the Priest Leonardo or Elder Priest Nicholas. With either of them, he figured he could talk his way out of trouble.
Moments later, the figures who emerged from the teleportation circle were priests loyal to Nicholas and servants of the Outsider. Orpheus sighed in relief. If it had been Leonardo, it would have meant that something had gone terribly wrong with the holy knights' plans.
The priests seemed startled to see Orpheus.
"Oh! Sub-Priest! What brings you here? Did you come early after hearing about Elder Priest Nicholas's orders?"
Thankfully, the foolish priests gave him an opening. Orpheus quickly composed himself, determined not to let his real intentions slip.
"That's correct. Ahem. I've heard the basics, but what do you plan to do next?"
"Of course, we'll transport it and offer it in tomorrow's ritual. Surely you understand, Sub-Priest."
Though this was news to him, Orpheus nodded, feigning agreement. He suspected that Nicholas and Leonardo had orchestrated this madness together. It was a plausible assumption, given the fanatics' obsession with the Outsider.
Orpheus deliberated. If this "sacrifice" was successfully offered, it would spell disaster. Somehow, he had to stop these lunatics. For now, there was no better option than to follow them and look for an opportunity.
The priests soon procured a few emaciated horses and a cart from the village. Loading the cage onto the cart, they set off at a brisk pace, with Orpheus trailing behind. As they traveled, he silently prayed, hoping that Xenon and the holy knights might be nearby.
Perhaps the Radiance answered his prayer. Midway through their journey, Orpheus sensed the presence of holy knights within a one-kilometer radius. He stopped briefly, scanning the surroundings, while the heretical priests remained preoccupied with their path ahead.
He needed to contact the knights immediately. They could deal with these cultists and the horrifying cage.
Looking for an opening, Orpheus positioned himself at the back of the cart, seated away from the priests. He quietly slipped off the cart and crouched low, moving stealthily toward the direction of the holy knights. His heart pounded furiously in his chest.
Once he was a safe distance away, he broke into a sprint.
The Mandragora Expedition was in shock. Holy knights were flying—literally flying—through the air.
At the center of the commotion stood a towering man cloaked in black robes. Each time he lashed out with shadowy whips that resembled vines, knights were sent soaring into the air as if gravity had abandoned them.
The man didn't move from his spot, effortlessly parrying and countering the knights' attacks with a calm elegance that resembled a choreographed dance. The Mandragora Expedition couldn't tear their eyes away from the surreal battle.
Although the knights numbered close to fifty, their attempts to attack en masse were thwarted by the undead surrounding the robed man. It was clear that the location had been chosen with meticulous intent—it severely limited the number of knights who could attack at once.
Strangely, it seemed as though the man wasn't being protected by the undead; rather, he was the one protecting them.
The shadowy whips split into multiple tendrils, moving like living creatures as they hurled knights away from the undead. When one knight tried to approach from the side, the man ensnared him with the whips, lifting him from the ground. The knight screamed in agony before being flung into the air.
Another knight attempted to sneak up from behind, but the man reacted instantly, spinning around and striking the knight's chest with his bare hand. Despite the mismatch of flesh against armor, the knight was sent flying backward, his weapon slipping from his grasp.
The robed man was unquestionably in control of the battle. He toyed with the knights, dismantling their formations one by one while the shadowy whips encircled them like a living nightmare.
In the end, every knight fell.