Within the labyrinthine and complex underground space, the air was so cold it nearly made one shiver.
A few dim lights flickered weakly, like fireflies ready to extinguish at any moment in this pitch-black environment. Every few minutes, they emitted an unsettling, crisp clicking sound.
This place was originally a massive underground facility.
After the crisis five years ago that nearly destroyed Caesania, it had become a ruin filled with rubble, wood chips, scraps of metal, and fragmented corpses—
It was only after the fall of the Truth’s Hand that the Caesania authorities realized that the most dangerous and infamous Blasphemer organization was right beneath their feet.
Under the city council’s directive, monks from the Holy Church, the Knight Order, and the city guard were assembled to cleanse this underground facility.
At that time, everyone was prepared to sacrifice themselves because the Blasphemers’ lair was bound to be filled with blasphemous items—raw, untamed power leaking from the Sea of Souls, enough to corrode the souls of ordinary people the moment they stepped inside.
At best, death was immediate; at worst, it would create a breach between reality and the Sea of Souls, serving as a gateway for monsters and demons under the command of the Great Lords to invade.
Yet here, only pure silence remained—for those with some strength, venturing deeper felt like breathing in a vacuum.
This shouldn’t have been a bad thing.
However, the Holy Church’s monks collectively began convulsing, foaming at the mouth, and collapsing into unconsciousness, leaving the cleansing team composed mostly of knights and city guards who felt only mild discomfort.
It took them months to clear a small area suitable for walking and residing. Many collapsed sections were even repaired and reinforced, and purification arrays were arranged everywhere visible to the naked eye to cleanse corruption.
But upon reaching the place where blasphemous rituals had been performed, the leading city council member immediately ordered the facility to be sealed and contacted the Holy City. A branch of the Tribunal was established directly above the entrance to guard and suppress it indefinitely.
…
But humanity’s greatest talent is to discard reverence and break its own rules.
“The Witch.”
Solis looked toward the woman crawling on the ritual site, using specialized equipment to copy twisted letters and symbols.
Beneath her was a whole conical piece of obsidian, fixed in the air by massive, specially forged adamantine chains extending from eight directions.
Below the obsidian was a deep pool for sacrifices, now completely buried under collapsed bricks and stones, invisible to sight.
The Witch Reiss gave no response.
She was enjoying the pleasure of absorbing forbidden knowledge.
This was knowledge that would never be allowed, never to appear in any book—exactly what she needed.
Though these symbols and words no longer held any power, every time she copied a fragment, the pleasure rising from the depths of her soul made her body tremble uncontrollably.
Abandoning the soul-filtering techniques she had once learned, shedding all defenses—like standing naked in the sea, arms spread wide, welcoming waves taller than herself.
In her ears echoed the faint words of some great existence, while countless visions of possible futures flashed before her eyes.
“This is the gift of destiny, Witch.”
Yes, this is the meaning of my birth.
My sole destiny.
I am not a fool… nor merely a witch who can only learn boring knowledge!
I have seen… the future.
“The Witch.”
Solis waited a moment, then called out coldly again when Reiss suddenly remained motionless.
Only then did she stir slightly.
“Huff…”
As if someone had dragged her head out of water, she suddenly raised her head, breathing heavily. Her chest heaved so exaggeratedly it was frightening to think her lungs might burst.
Solis didn’t move closer to check her condition.
He was long accustomed to this.
After all, this was the side effect of Blasphemers connecting with the Sea of Souls.
She was slowly accepting her true nature and soul.
“…You sure picked an inconvenient time to interrupt, Solis.”
Only after her breathing steadied did Reiss spit to the side and turn to look at the military-uniformed man standing with his hands behind his back.
“I was receiving a revelation from the Lord of Destiny, and you broke it.”
“…I acknowledge your talent, Witch. But I don’t believe you deserve the favor of the Lord of Destiny.”
Solis narrowed his eyes.
“Hah… I thought you Blasphemers were different, but it seems you still care about seniority?”
Reiss sneered.
Knowing that the Great Lord of Destiny’s gaze had already fallen upon her, she was filled with confidence and began calculating how to manipulate her “partners” into a whirlpool of confusion.
Though not a specific future, just knowing some directions allowed her to prepare in advance, tilting fate in her desired direction—
At this moment, she was the one at the gambling table with the privilege to cheat.
“Do your duty.”
Solis snorted through his nose.
As a veteran Blasphemer, he could sense the subtle changes in Reiss and the confidence radiating from within her—the certainty of “I know what will happen next.”
He had felt this aura once before from another favored by the gods—
The former chief of the Truth’s Hand.
With such foresight far beyond petty “divination” spells, the Truth’s Hand grew into a terrifying organization that left both the Holy Church and the Empire powerless.
But he had forgotten one thing.
Fate itself is capricious.
Even Great Lords can only observe and manipulate destiny; they cannot create fate out of thin air—and the threads of fate sometimes bear black spots that can poison everything.
Soulless ones.
The traitor Loki.
Therefore, it was precisely because of such confidence that the Truth’s Hand met their downfall… otherwise, the Great Lords’ domain would have already descended here, and he would have long shed his troublesome mortal flesh.
“How much longer to finish copying these?”
“Almost done. This ritual is far more complicated than I expected… Let alone understanding its meaning, just finding people who can withstand its power is no easy task, not to mention preparing a large number of gifted sacrifices.”
Reiss shook the paper in her hand.
Without studying it, one would not know—Blasphemers’ formal rituals aren’t something you can perform by grabbing a couple of random people off the street. The Great Lords care deeply about the quality of souls; offering unqualified sacrifices has a 90% or even 100% chance of punishment.
“How did you prepare all this?”
“Because we have the technology to artificially produce high-quality sacrifices, Witch. You should know, this world has plenty of mortals no one would care about even if they disappeared.”