Chapter 607

Chapter 607: Dark Allies and the Dream-Skull

A sudden wave of heat swept across the hall, as if a beam of strong sunlight had pierced the roof and was moving over the crowd. Yet as this invisible heat appeared, all the gas lamps and candelabras in the hall seemed to suffer some unknown interference and suppression. Instead, they dimmed quickly, as if sinking into shadows.

However, the Annihilators in the hall did not react much to this heat. After a slight stir, they all raised their heads to look at the dome above the hall.

Richard also raised his head. His gaze swept past the gorgeous drapes, chandeliers, and painted ceiling above the hall. They seemed to be lit by invisible sunlight. Patches of light and shadow moved slowly across the surface of the dome. Then that “sunlight” gradually gathered at the center of the dome and finally showed its source there—

It was a sphere. It looked like a blazing Sun, its surface rippling with flames and shedding dazzling light and heat. At the same time, it looked unreal and transparent, as if it were only a projection. Then this small Sun projection slowly lowered in height, all the way down to the front of the high platform in the center of the hall, to stand before the Saint.

Richard heard low voices of talk and muttering nearby. Some cultists quietly voiced their displeasure—the Outer Gods’ envoy had become more and more arrogant, even skipping the usual announcement when coming to this holy gathering place. Some cultists said that the hall should never have been opened to the Outer Gods’ envoys at all. Their mere appearance meant a stain on this holy place.

But the Saint’s voice suddenly rang out in every mind and ear, cutting off the low buzzing in the hall: “Ah, our ‘ally’ has arrived.”

As his words fell, the small Sun projection that had dropped in front of the platform slowly shed its outer shell of light and heat. That shell, like one cast from light, faded and turned transparent, and what lay within was revealed to every eye.

It was a sphere made from twisted lumps of flesh and countless coiled tentacles piled together. Between the tentacles on its surface were set innumerable eye-like structures—the Sun’s Spawn.

The projection slowly stretched its tentacles in the air. One eye after another rolled and turned toward every side. Almost at the same time, another phantom-like figure appeared beneath this Sun Spawn.

It was a human, wearing a black robe with gold trim that marked the priest class among the Suntists. On the face was a Golden Sun Mask shaped after sunlight. This Sun priest’s projection fell onto the high platform in the center of the hall, standing before the Saint like a spokesman.

The Sun Spawn in midair let out a deep, muffled vibration. That sound seemed mixed with layers of whispers and noise beyond human understanding. Listening to it made one dizzy.

The figure with the golden Sun mask who stood before the Saint spoke at once, relaying the meaning carried inside those muddled tremors: “I can feel that you do not welcome me.”

The Saint raised his eyestalks high. “I hope you can understand. This is the Holy Lord’s gathering place. For a long time, we have not allowed the believers or envoys of the Outer Gods to step into such a holy place. But rest assured, our sincerity toward cooperation will not be affected by this.”

“It does not matter. I do not care,” the Sun Spawn’s projection slowly stretched its body in the air and kept making those deep, vague tremors. The Sun priest who appeared with it began translating at once. “We can leave our differences in faith to the next era. dusk is drawing near. We, the races abandoned by the Deep Sea era, must first learn to live together.”

“Yes, learn to coexist. When all things are remade, the world will be wide enough to hold our differences,” the Saint said in a deep voice. “Is that why you came here, to stress this to me?”

“No, ally. I came to talk with you about the losses we suffered in our last operation,” said the masked Sun priest. “I wanted to come to you in the daytime, but that hateful False Sun stayed high in the sky. Now that it has gone down, I have come.

“We lost many of our people, precious people, in that great forest woven by the ‘Nameless One’s dream’. They were burned by the flames of the Flame Usurper bearer. Even their souls did not return to the sheltering place—I must speak with you about this.”

“We also feel deep sympathy and unease over the misfortune of those Sun Remnant Folk,” the Saint said. His bone spurs clacked, as if showing some dissatisfaction. “But you were not the only ones whose actions suffered setbacks… No one expected ‘His’ power to appear there. After all, not long ago that ship was still in the far north. No one thought ‘He’ would intervene in this matter. His followers had already begun to move. For you to come and accuse us over this is unreasonable and rash, and rude.”

“…We do not seek to lay blame on an ally.” The Sun Spawn in midair stayed silent for a few seconds. The light around it seemed to draw back a little. It murmured in a muffled way, and the priest on the platform translated at once. “But we must state our position. We are willing to cooperate with your actions in the Nameless One’s dream. Yet if you turn this ‘cooperation’ into one-sided exploitation, then our partnership will end.”

“I understand you, envoy,” the Saint said in a deep voice. “Do not worry. We will not turn a blind eye to this incident. Just now, we already decided to strike back at the followers of the Flame Usurper bearer. One of our next goals is to find the heretic who attacked the Sun Remnant Folk and our brethren, and to seize her and her demons. She is strong and insidious, but we are ready to take some risk to avenge those fallen Remnant Folk.”

“We do not care whether you truly act to avenge them, nor what methods you plan to use against those strong and strange ‘followers of the Flame Usurper’,” the priest wearing the Golden Sun Mask on the platform relayed the Sun Spawn’s words. “Do not forget our first and most basic goal. In the Nameless One’s dream there are things we each need. Work together honestly and cooperate fully. We care only about this. Nothing else matters.”

The Saint stayed silent for a moment. Then his bone spurs clicked, showing a friendly attitude. “Yes, we will each take what we need… We only want that tree.”

The Sun Spawn slowly lowered its height. The countless eyes set between its tentacles fixed their gaze quietly on the brain wrapped inside the bone cage on the platform. “We only want that Sun.”

The unreal-seeming “heat” that covered the assembly hall began to fade. The Sun Spawn floating in midair and the Sun priest standing on the platform both started to dim and dissolve. In just a few seconds, these two uninvited guests left the holy hall.

The hall stayed quiet for a while. Then the gathered Annihilators all let out their breaths. Richard also felt his pounding heart slowly calm down. Perhaps his heart had sped up without him noticing just now, because he even felt a faint ache in his chest.

He was still shaken.

Even though what had come here was only a projection, it was still a projection of the Sun Spawn—that monster split directly from the essence of the “true Sun god”, like a demigod. Its very existence was a deadly source of corruption for mortals. The brethren in this hall… in the end, they still had not stepped beyond the mortal realm.

Perhaps only the “Saint” present here could stand against that so-called “Sun Spawn”.

“We should never have opened this place to the envoys of the Outer Gods,” someone in the crowd said, not in a very low voice. “Once their ‘sunlight’ shines in here, they become even more brazen.”

“That ‘Spawn’ felt very bad to me,” another voice reached Richard’s ears. “We cannot understand its mind or its true intent. Every time we need a masked priest to act as a translator. No one knows how much more disturbing information is still hidden behind those translations. When its eyes look at us… it is nothing like the gaze of one thinking creature toward other thinking creatures.”

“Those ‘Sun Remnant Folk’ give me the same feeling. I cannot sense any reason or emotion from them at all… In the end, they are monsters abandoned in the last era… long since degenerated in the dark…”

The low discussions began to spread through the hall. The feelings that had been held down started to echo with each other quickly. Yet just then, the Saint’s voice suddenly sounded in every head, cutting off the Annihilators’ talk at once: “Silence.”

The hall fell silent at once.

“…I know what you worry about,” the Saint’s voice went on, carrying a soothing power. “But we need their strength.”

“Saint,” a nearby Annihilator closest to the platform called out, gathering his courage, “that Sun Spawn and those ‘Remnant Folk’… do you think they will really keep their promises?”

The Saint stayed silent for a few seconds.

“I have never believed those aberrations’ ‘promises’, because they were born in broken oaths from the very start. But at least before they get what they want, they have no reason to break the pact,” he said slowly. “Just as we need them, they also need us. In the time and space woven by the Nameless One’s dream, those aberrations can only ally with us.”

The questioning voices vanished.

Then the chimes that marked the hour rang at just the right moment.

Clang—clang—clang—

The mechanical clock hanging on the tall wall at the far end of the hall rang out with a long, clear tone.

“…Let us end these topics. The time is near. The Nameless One’s dream is about to link to the Mortal Realm,” the Saint’s voice quickly drew everyone’s attention. “Prepare for Dreamwalking. Those who will Dreamwalk tonight, step out and come forward. Get ready to touch the Dream-Skull.”

Richard, standing among a group of black-robed people, reacted at once. He raised his head and saw several other brethren already walking toward the platform, including Dumont, who had come to find him during the day.

He hurried forward as well.

At the same time, several low-ranking cultists in gray robes came into the hall. They pushed a cart cast from a special, heavy alloy, its sides covered with many runes. A black cloth stained with blood lay over the cart, and something seemed to be hidden under the cloth.

“Push the Dream-Skull to the front of the platform,” the Saint ordered.

The low-ranking cultists pushed the cart to the platform in the center of the hall. Two of them took hold of the black cloth on the cart, ready to lift it.

Richard swallowed without thinking. Even though this was not his first time touching the “Dream-Skull”, he still could not help feeling a bit nervous.

That eerie thing made one feel a fear that seeped into the soul every time it was touched, and no matter how many times he went through it, that fear never seemed to become easier to bear.

His firm belief and devout faith could only help him make up his mind to touch that thing. They could not erase the impression left by the fear itself or the instinctive tension he felt now.

Then the two low-ranking cultists lifted the black cloth.

The “Dream-Skull” on the cart also entered Richard’s sight—

It was a black object that looked as if it had been carved from wood… a Goathead.