Chapter 376

Chapter 376: Entrenched

The sound of machinery echoed through the plant. Water thundered through the giant pipes, and a sharp, chemical stench hung in the air, strong enough to make one’s stomach churn.

Agatha stood by the safety railing and leaned forward to look down into the buffer pool. Filthy liquid churned and rolled in the huge reservoir. Bubbles rose from the surface now and then, along with strange, shifting colors of light, disgusting like the stomach acid of some great beast.

A manager in a light brown coat, his thinning hair plastered to his scalp, stood behind the young Gatekeeper. His face looked tense, and one hand tugged nervously at the button on his chest.

“The drainage from the north side of Oak Street and the area around Cemetery No. 4 all converges here,” the manager said. He watched the Gatekeeper’s expression as he reported, speaking very carefully. “After we received the order, we cut off all nearby pipe connections at once and checked the alarm devices on every buffer pool. We did not find any sign of blasphemous corruption…”

Agatha listened in silence for a while, then suddenly asked: “How is the sewage usually treated?”

“How is it treated?” The manager froze for a second, then hurried to answer. “First we use high-pressure steam to carry out purification on any possible corruption—you know how it is. The sewage has been in contact with humans and then flows through dark pipes. It is bound to become a carrier for certain things. After the steam purification comes settling and filtration. What you see now is the settling tank. Then we perform a second steam purification. After that purification, part of the water is sent back into the factories for recycling, and the rest… is discharged into the sea.”

Agatha gave a small nod and asked again: “Roughly how long does it take for sewage discharged from the north side of Oak Street to reach this place?”

“That depends on the exact route, but usually no more than two hours,” the manager answered.

“How long does the sewage stay here?”

“The water in the settling tanks is replaced every seventy-two hours.” The manager raised his hand. Under the Gatekeeper’s steady questions, he grew more and more nervous. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, but still answered with precision. “The purification and inspection procedures are strictly regulated. They never run shorter than that.”

Agatha nodded slightly and quickly worked through the timing in her mind. She compared the hour of the “replica incident” in that townhouse with the sewage treatment schedule. Then she said, half to herself: “So if that thing really escaped through the drainage system, it should still be here…”

“Gatekeeper,” the administrator blurted, wiping his shining forehead again. At last he could not hold back his curiosity. “What exactly… happened? Is there corruption spreading through the waste system?”

“…We cannot rule that out,” Agatha replied. She glanced at the administrator, then turned her gaze toward the nearby black-clad Guardians who were collecting samples and testing the equipment. “But according to everything we have checked so far, everything here is normal.”

“Yes,” the manager said, forcing a weak smile. “Every stage here has an alarm device, built to detect possible blasphemous corruption. The treatment center also has three resident priests. They test water samples every day…”

“Resident priests?” Agatha seemed to think of something and turned her head. “How many resident priests did you say are here?”

“Th… three,” the manager stammered at once, perhaps scared by the sudden edge in Agatha’s tone. “Is… is there a problem?”

“You can only have two priests here,” Agatha said coldly. “The number of resident priests in each municipal facility is strictly regulated. Where did the third one come from?”

The manager’s expression went blank. A new sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead, and fear rose in his eyes.

Seeing this, Agatha lifted her Gatekeeper’s cane and rested it on his shoulder. She crushed the “fear” in his mind by force. Her face grew stern as she said: “Listen. From this point on, you must remain calm. Go bring all the resident priests here. Tell them the Gatekeeper needs more information. Do not show any other emotion. Do you understand?”

The administrator’s mood settled quickly, though he still looked a little nervous. He nodded in a rush. “Yes, I… I understand… I’ll go right away.”

Agatha nodded and withdrew the Gatekeeper’s cane. As he was about to leave, something else occurred to her, and she spoke up at once: “Wait. Not just the resident priests—bring everyone.”

The manager turned back, stunned. “Everyone?”

“Everyone,” Agatha repeated in a low voice. Then, still uneasy, she asked, “Since yesterday, has anyone left this treatment center?”

“No!” the manager answered at once. “When we got the order, it was fifteen minutes before shift change. Everyone working here stayed.”

“Good. Bring them all here. Tell them it is a necessary inspection. Keep your manner relaxed. Do not arouse suspicion. Go.”

The balding administrator turned and hurried away, trying to steady his emotions as he went. Agatha stood motionless by the buffer pool. Only when she saw him vanish through a nearby door did she raise her hand and signal to the Guardians who had already noticed the commotion.

The black-clad Guardians nearby moved at once. On the open ground around the buffer pool they laid out hidden runes. At crossroads and between pipes they sprinkled essential oils and powdered incense, then took up their positions, still looking as if they were merely inspecting the equipment.

While the Guardians worked, Agatha lifted the Gatekeeper’s cane and slowly traced a triangle on the floor around herself, each side about two meters long. Then she stood at the center of the triangle, resting both hands on the cane, and waited calmly.

It was not long before footsteps sounded from the main door. The administrator returned to the hall with a large crowd behind him.

Among them walked three clergy in the Death Church’s guildmaster robes, each wearing a Holy Emblem.

A dozen treatment center workers, led by the administrator, came up to Agatha and formed a loose line. Nervous, they greeted the Gatekeeper. The three resident priests stepped out from the side of the group and saluted her according to the Death Church’s internal etiquette.

Agatha ordered the three priests to spread out. Then her gaze slowly swept over every face.

She felt something wrong.

She saw no suspicious expression or movement. Her senses picked up no unusual aura. Yet Bartok’s blessing had already told her that something was off—hidden in these people’s breathing, hidden in their heartbeats, hidden even in the Shadows they cast upon the floor.

Agatha blinked and checked again. Everything she saw still looked normal. That only made her more certain.

There was indeed cognitive interference here—and even with a Gatekeeper present in person, that cognitive interference still held.

Was it simply because they had great courage? Or because they did not understand a Gatekeeper’s power? Or… was this cognitive interference not under anyone’s control at all?

Agatha slowly turned her head, fixing her eyes on the three priests.

She could leave the dozen workers aside for the moment. Among these three priests, at least one was false—but which one?

“Recite Bartok’s name,” Agatha said slowly. “Let the Death Sovereign’s gaze fall upon us and let us tell illusion from truth in this world of dust.”

“In the name of the Death Sovereign Bartok,” one priest began at once, “may His gaze fall upon us…”

Then the second and the third priest opened their mouths in turn.

“In the name of the Death Sovereign Bartok…”

Three voices sounded one after another, like echoes.

Agatha frowned.

They could speak the god’s name. That meant none of them was a mud-born replica, and none was a cultist loyal to a heretical faith. In such a case, the violent clash of belief would have torn their minds apart.

But how could that be? Were all three priests genuine?

Thoughts flashed through Agatha’s mind, but her face stayed calm. She nodded to the three. “Next, I need to perform some necessary tests. Please understand.”

As she spoke, she reached for her left eye. At once, a living eyeball popped from her socket and landed neatly in her hand.

Agatha raised the eyeball and “looked” at the three priests before her.

The first priest appeared in her sight. He was a thin, elderly man in a linen robe. Black, ink-dark chains extended from beneath his ribs. At the end of the chains, a hound of the Abyssal Deep lifted its head. Blasphemous, filthy power was gathering and taking shape in its jaws.

Heretic.

He dared to stand here in plain sight.

Agatha’s face changed slightly, but she had prepared for this. As the Abyssal Hound opened its huge mouth, she slipped aside. Her right hand lifted the Gatekeeper’s cane, and pale flames burst into life at its tip.

But before she could burn the heretic, another low, obscure spell-chant suddenly rose beside her.

The eyeball in Agatha’s left hand snapped around. In the next second she saw a young man with straw-yellow hair and a high nose raising both hands toward her. Behind him floated a grey-black Smokewisp Jellyfish, as if formed from condensed mist.

That was the second “priest.”

A wave of dizziness swept over Agatha. As she tried to steady herself, she heard a third spell being chanted.

At the edge of her vision, a pale woman lifted her hand. A cat formed of bones and mist crouched at her side.

That was the third priest.

All the priests were false.

Roars and the sounds of combat rose from all sides.

The moment the three cultists of annihilation, disguised as Death Church priests, made their move, the Guardians around them reacted and tried to rush to Agatha’s aid. But they found their own enemies waiting.

The dozen “workers” the administrator had brought and the nearby black-clad Guardians clashed in a sudden frenzy.

Out of the corner of her eye, Agatha saw those “workers” crack open when they were struck. Thick, muddy filth oozed out of their splitting bodies.

Only the balding administrator broke away and ran toward a nearby pipe, screaming in helpless terror.

The entire sewage treatment center… had only one human.