Chapter 429: Ritual in Chaos

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The sacred ritual was catastrophically disrupted. Multiple disastrous events converged, breaking apart the ceremony beyond repair. The Queen’s Guard, caught in a fifty-year cycle, had their rhythm disrupted, sending shockwaves through the holy proceedings. Trespassers breached the “Gate of Ascension,” a crucial landmark within the ceremonial chamber. Unknown entities invaded the sacred grounds, adding to the chaos. Most shockingly, the chosen sacrifice willingly offered herself to the emerald flames in the heart of the elemental pool. These events threw the highly revered final rites into inescapable chaos.

Sanctity was breached as heretics rampaged through the sanctuary, brutally massacring the followers of the Nether Lord and reducing years of devout service to ruin.

“What devastation have you wrought?!”

In the center of the deep pool, the cult leader, a young man with golden locks, bellowed in anger. His body began to expand rapidly, supported by the black, viscous substance around him, contorting into a monstrous, oversized beast. His arm shot out towards Agatha, and from the pool, a barrage of sharp thorns and bony spikes sprang forth, aimed at the gatekeeper standing resolute amid the burning flames.

However, all aggressive attempts disintegrated into ashes before they could touch Agatha, burnt to oblivion by the spectral green flames. In a counterattack, these otherworldly flames followed the ashes’ trail, steadily devouring the sacrificial symbols and blasphemous artifacts bordering the pool, eventually invading the pool itself.

Enshrouded in an emerald green aura, Agatha became a beacon for the spectral fire, which blazed out from her with intense passion. Each of her wounds transformed into channels for the foreign energy. The torment of being engulfed by the flames subsided, and she laughed defiantly in the heart of the conflagration, staring back at the enraged yet powerless heretic, whispering to herself, “Ah… I understand now…”

In the blink of an eye, her eyes were overtaken by the ghost fire, with flames spouting from the empty sockets. Utilizing these scorched-out “eyes”, she surveyed her surroundings, observing the cultists, who were entangled in a chaotic dance around the dark pool.

As her gaze passed over them, every cultist was set aflame. The demons intertwined with them ignited as well, the blasphemous artifacts in the chamber provided fuel to the flames, and even the hall itself appeared to be a blazing inferno.

Gifted with power by the Flame Usurper, Agatha used her pyrokinetic strength to obliterate the sacrilegious actions taking place. This revelation dawned upon her the moment her eyes were consumed by the fire.

The heretical figure engulfed in the sludge was of no consequence. He was merely a grotesque being who had undergone a self-destructive metamorphosis. The true substance of this place was the circle of grotesque, deformed heretics who were screaming in high, shrieking tones around the muddied pool.

“Stop! Desist immediately! You’re oblivious to the ramifications of your actions! A ceremony run amok spells disaster for everyone! It has already morphed into…”

The cult leader, now transformed into a bloated monstrosity, cried out in desperation, erecting barriers in a vain effort to stem the rampant flames consuming the hall. But amid his plea, a gunshot reverberated from the side, silencing his outcry.

“Bang!”

A young soldier, dressed in an old-fashioned uniform and clutching an antique rifle, charged into the hall, his weapon targeted at the distorted, inflated behemoth in the core of the murky pool.

Swiftly, the brave fighter was swallowed by the whirling black sludge, but a new wave of soldiers burst into the hall.

At this point, the timeline had crossed the “counterattack” phase attributed to the Queen’s Guard. These ghostly soldiers were expected to dissolve into nonexistence, yet it was clear that this cycle had been distorted due to the destruction of the thorn gate. The Queen’s Guard, which should have disappeared at the next pivotal point, now deviated from their cycle and launched their offensive on the final sanctuary.

The regiment led by Lawrence found themselves entwined in battles with nearby cultists and enigmatic demons. Their ammo had run out, yet they wielded sharp sabers and swords, their bodies momentarily unmarked by death. Even when confronted with dark priests and demonic beings possessing a myriad of dangerous powers, they stood their ground like indomitable supernatural beings.

With a loud “clang,” Lawrence’s shortsword split a bone spike hurtling towards him. He skillfully evaded a fireball on the verge of explosion. Advancing amid the flames, he severed the chain attached to a cultist’s neck, watching as the body of this dark priest rapidly crumbled into ashes. He then raised his eyes, fixating on the long-haired woman standing sentinel in front of the mud pool, alight like a flaming beacon.

“Miss! We’re here to support you!” The battle-hardened captain roared. “We’re all under ‘Captain’s’ command, aren’t we? Which ship are you serving on?”

He recognized without a doubt that the young woman enwrapped in flames was ignited by the same spectral green fire as him, confirming unmistakably that she was one of their own. However, the flames enveloping her were darker and noticeably more expansive, indicating she was not just any “one of them.”

Relying on his abundant experience as an adventurer and captain, Captain Lawrence quickly took stock of the situation, deciding it was in his best interest to address amiably a high-ranking comrade destined to accompany them on their future voyage.

Agatha turned, surprised, to the robust old man who bore a striking resemblance to a sea captain, shouting at her from a distance.

“What did you say?!” After a moment of confusion, she found herself unable to suppress the urge to respond, shouting back, “There’s too much commotion here, I can’t make out your words!”

Taken aback, Lawrence pivoted towards his comrades, raising a query, “She answered, didn’t she?”

“I’m not sure!” Anomaly 077, who happened to be the closest, was currently bellowing. His voice was fraught with panic and terror as he zigzagged around the rapidly expanding flames, artfully evading bullets, fireballs, bone spikes, and even dismembered limbs flying through the air. His dual blades had already suffered nicks. “I’m a sailor! Why am I embroiled in a battle against a horde of cultists in a sewer now? This is a task suited for ground forces!”

“You didn’t complain when we disembarked,” Lawrence retorted with a booming voice. “You were ebullient, like a pirate on the verge of pillaging a city-state.”

“Consider yourself an infantryman, then.”

“You son of a—”

“What was that?”

“You… damned…”

In a daze, Agatha observed the amusing quarrel between the burly, rugged sailors and their captain. She looked around at the chaos unfolding, perplexed by the spectacle.

Who were these people? Where had they come from? What was their objective?

She noticed unfamiliar faces, all enshrouded in the same emerald fire that engulfed her, engaged in a fierce battle with the heretics in the hall. At the same time, a squad of soldiers, spectral remnants from a past era, stormed into the chaos, their rifles spewing bullets indiscriminately. Among their battle cries, the name of the Frost Queen occasionally resounded. The whole situation was inexplicable, as though… following her decision to sacrifice herself, the entire narrative of the world had undergone a bizarre twist.

However, her rampant thoughts were suddenly halted by the escalating roar of the wind resonating in her ears.

The bloated, grotesque giant leaned in her direction.

“All of you… unforgivable…”

It growled, its form spraying a chaotic gush of filth-laden, inky sludge. The formerly handsome, blonde young man had been completely replaced by a monstrous being maintaining a vague human form.

A ghastly array of interlacing mouths covered its body, the friction and whispers between the sharp teeth eliciting an intense dread. As Agatha watched, its skull slowly cracked open to reveal menacing eyes. The primordial substance had entirely devoured and substituted this monster’s previous human form. It had become one with the mud pool, even… integrated with a larger, more chaotic entity.

The inflated abomination peered at Agatha through its multitude of eyes. The spreading sludge around it ignited, the flames even lapping at its form. However, the monster seemed immune to the pain, simply chanting in a monotonous tone: “Unstoppable… Unstoppable… Error, error…”

“Your plot has already crumbled,” Agatha rebutted, her gaze unflinchingly fixed on the monstrous entity before her. The flames leaking from her hollowed-out eye sockets caused the air around her to waver. “Surely, you must sense that the supposed ‘channel’ has been disrupted — the counter-phase process between the mirror and reality has come to a halt.”

“Stopped?” For a fleeting moment, the monster appeared momentarily lucid at Agatha’s assertion. A flicker of human-like resentment emerged within the multitude of its deformed eyes. “Innocent… Do you believe your self-sacrifice… leaves us bereft of alternatives?!”

A spark of confusion briefly passed through Agatha.

In the next instant, she witnessed the giant abruptly lift its hands — the extremities began a dramatic metamorphosis, expanding and splitting into what looked like dried, fissured branches, which then transformed into vast clusters of thorn-like formations. They pierced through the ceiling of the grand hall and all surrounding pipes. Within this thorny proliferation, elusive sparks of light flitted about, reminiscent of a swarm of fireflies.

From the heart of this “thorn bush”, ecstatic exclamations reverberated —

“Ah, I see it! I comprehend! I have grasped it!

“What a magnificent scheme! What an expansive blueprint! Oh, the most powerful and sacred master… I discern your intention, I have understood… to reconfigure this world, indeed, to reshape… All of us, and everything in this world, will be reborn from the divine flesh and blood — disciples, it’s time for the sacrifice!”

“Sacrifice!”

Under the horrified gaze of Agatha and the ground combat unit led by Lawrence, the remaining Annihilators in the grand hall began to cheer ecstatically. It was as if they had been graced with some divine epiphany. With this rising chorus of cheer, they started diving headlong, one after another, into the central mud pool of the grand hall!

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