CHAPTER 72: STANDING UP OR SITTING DOWN, I AM THE ONE AND ONLY DEATH KNIGHT

Wayne quietly examined the pattern related to the evil god on the wall. It was described in the magical text that every one of the evil gods dwelling in hell harbored a desire to destroy the world. In comparison, Darkness and Death were merely at odds with Nature, Sun, and Moonlight in matters of faith; there was no record of the two goddesses wanting to do the same.

Such claims shouldn’t be taken at face value, of course. While there was no record of the goddesses seeking the destruction of the world, it didn’t mean that they wouldn’t. One embraced darkness, and the other welcomed death. That alone was enough to make people resist them.

Nature, Sun, and Moonlight were different. Wayne would willingly throw himself into their arms.

“Master, where are the councilors’ minds?”

When Wayne continued to stare at the drawing on the wall wordlessly, Bo realized that the situation was far from simple. The eight councilors hadn’t been kidnapping young women simply to exchange them for power.

His heart sank. The glimmer of hope that had rekindled instantly went out. He waited for his master to respond, hoping he was overthinking things.

Wayne said nothing, raising his hand to rub his bare skull. Then he turned to the dining table and backhanded one of the seated councilors, sending him flying.

The five-meter-diameter round table only had eight seats, so there was enough space for an armored undead knight to stand between the chairs. However, Wayne chose to make one of them yield their seat. Since someone had to take extra steps anyway, why shouldn’t it be the councilor?

Besides, the man didn’t object.

His gauntleted fingers touched the table. A circle of ink-black corruption spread, death’s corrosive power seeping into the wood and rendering it into ash at a visible speed. Once the table crumbled, a magic circle roughly three meters in diameter was exposed.

The complex pattern formed a pentagram drawn in blood, corresponding to the blood patterns on the wall—a perfect inverted pentagram.

The pentagram, as a symbol of protection and power, was often used by mages for spellcasting and was widely considered to represent good friendship, devotion, generosity, spirit, and chastity. But flip the pentagram upside down, and all the aforementioned traits would be reversed, signifying the loss of goodness.

The flip side of good was evil.

Inverted pentagrams were often associated with the evil gods in hell. Depending on which evil god they worshipped, followers would add different symbols to the inverted pentagrams.

The one before them was related to Blood Worship, meaning the eight councilors were connected to the belief, if not actual followers.

The evil gods from hell were jurisdiction of the Church of Heavenly Father. As a soon-to-be member of the Church of Nature and the wielder of Shadow Nightmare, Wayne wasn’t specialized in dealing with the matter. Since he was already here, though, there was no reason to pretend that he hadn’t seen anything.

Besides, how would a priest react if a skeleton like him sought out help at a church late at night? He’d be lucky if the priest didn’t try to physically exorcize him.

He memorized the pentagram circle and scattered corrosive death energy with a wave of his hand. The floor tiles cracked and crumbled, quickly turning to sand until they completely disintegrated. The resulting three-meter diameter opening looked into pitch darkness.

Bo hurried over to peer into the bottomless abyss below. His scalp tingled, and he quickly took two steps back to avoid tumbling in.

As a beginner who only knew basic magic theory, Wayne couldn’t decipher the complex magic circle and its effect. Meeting Bo’s inquisitive gaze, he snorted and said, “It connects to a portal. It only looks deep. The councilors’ consciousnesses are down there, feasting on blood for mental stimulation.”

Bo nodded without fully understanding it. This was far more terrible than prohibited substances.

“Can you close the portal, Master?”

How would I know? How about you wait while I call Master?

Wayne didn’t say anything. He’d never shown his true face to Bo, deliberately giving him the impression that his master wasn’t human. It started out amusing and had only become increasingly entertaining.

He had no intention of revealing his identity. In a grave tone, he said, “The abyss can be opened by triggering a mechanic. If I’m not mistaken, the gang has been kidnapping girls and bringing them here. The councilors throw them into the abyss. Then... It’s diabolical. Consider it a feast of blood.”

“The passage will soon disappear now that the magic circle is destroyed. It’s fine to leave it alone.”

I think.

Wayne had a solid foundation in basic magical theory. Based on the guiding principles he’d learned, he made an educated guess. While there was an element of luck, he had indeed grasped the key points of the magic.

Soon, a roar echoed from the abyss. Vaguely, both Bo and Wayne felt a disturbance to their minds, and a magnificent illusion appeared before their eyes:

In a deep sea of blood, a massive figure raised its arms and growled. It was as imposing as a mountain with green scales densely covering its body, coated in thick blood and gleaming with cruel light.

The giant’s head bore spiraling curved horns, and its furious eyes were red like lava. Its thunderous roar shook the entire blood sea, stirring crimson waves into cascading waterfalls. Looking closer, the sea contained more than just the beast. Around it floated broken ships like toys. Were the sea the giant’s bathtub, these vessels would be rubber duckies.

But clearly, it was the giant’s hunting ground, which it alone ruled supreme.

A Massive crocodile-like tail capsized the broken ships, the splintered planks slowly sinking as living beings bobbed on the surface, calling out for help as they reached toward the sky. The giant glared at Wayne, its growls resounding across the blood sea while it unleashed its power, declaring to Wayne an inescapable fate.

He had disrupted the ritual and was doomed to become its meal.

(▔皿▔)

What, you think you’re the only one who can make threats?!

Come up here if you can!

He projected his consciousness to the illusion. The armored skeleton knight strode across the crimson sea, his massive form casting infinite shadow as he stared down at the monster and slowly drew his sword to strike. The projection had no offensive power, but it expressed his refusal to back down in the face of provocation and threats.

That’s right. It’s me! Standing up or sitting down, I am the one and only Death Knight!

I come by the command of the Goddess of Death to eliminate evil and promote positive energy. If you have any complaint, take it up with the goddess.

With that, he cut the connection and dragged Bo’s consciousness out of the illusion. He didn’t know what was happening on the blood sea’s end—he only knew how exciting it was to run off after the taunt.

It was all thanks to the Death Knight skin. He figured the more he had, the better. After his outlandish wish to the goddess to grant him another Lord of the Void, he prayed for a second and third legendary disguises. He didn’t specify which goddess—he wasn’t picky.

Bo was still reeling from the illusion. These past few days had been eye-opening, so much so that his canthi might as well be torn. His worldview was under reconstruction.

Wayne looked down into the pit. With the magic circle destroyed, the portal leading to the space for Blood Worship dissolved on its own, revealing the actual well below. It was seven to eight meters deep and three meters wide. Its brick walls were embedded with neatly arranged wooden crosses. Some were empty, others had emaciated women nailed to them, and the majority held mummy-like corpses.

Blood trickled down the crosses to the bottom of the well, where there was a foul marsh of blood and mud. Eight black serpents swam about, rattling their heads and hissing like cats encountering catnip.

The snakes’ black scales reflected red light when illuminated. Sensing the light source, they quickly awakened and hissed in warning at the opening of the well with forked tongues. They each corresponded to the eight councilors—their minds dwelt in the snakes!

How sinister! How fricking sinister!

Wayne didn’t know much about evil gods, and it was his first time meeting one from hell. Since he didn’t understand, he didn’t think too much before scattering death energy at the serpents with a wave of his hand.

Grey mist morphed into eight vipers to pursue the black snakes one-on-one. At first, the black snakes attempted to resist, but then they realized that their bites didn’t work on the mist snakes at all, while the mist snakes’ every bite made their flesh decay and exposed their bones. They fled in agony.

The chase continued until all eight snakes were covered in wounds and writhing in the blood marsh in pain.

“Their minds are trapped in the snakes. The great pain prevents them from thinking clearly, so they can’t end the ritual and return to their bodies,” Wayne said slowly. “I need to maintain anonymity, so I’ll leave you to deal with the victims. Save those you can and send them to the hospital. The rest...”

“Handle them your way!”

With that, he turned and left the dining room.

Bo nodded and jumped down into the deep well, rescuing the victims pinned to the crosses and laying them flat on the carpeted floor of the room. Looking at this place of sin, he shook his head in dismay. With a name surfacing his mind, he hurried to the living room and first called the ambulance before grimly dialing another number.

“Boss, it’s me.”

“Beau? Is that you? Is that really you? Damn it, where the hell have you been? Everyone thought you got killed in action. Even I almost believed it myself!” The voice on the other end of the line cursed profusely, but the joy in his tone was unmistakable.

“Sorry, boss. I am dead. Perry trapped me in cement and threw me into the Thames,” Bo stated matter-of-factly.

He had called his superior, Officer Green. Perry was right about one thing: to climb the ladder, one needed a benefactor. Officer Green was that person for Bo, who had given Bo tremendous support.

By taking the blame for things, for example.

“What are you talking about, Beau? If you’re dead, who am I talking to?”

“I can’t say much about the specifics. Remember the case? I’m at Councilor Doreen Johni’s house right now. Bring your most trusted people here. The address is—”

“Damn it, explain to me! Why are you at the councilor’s house? Are you trying to make me take the fall?”

Ignoring Green’s shouting, Bo rattled off the address and calmly hung up. He searched around the living room, found a pack of cigarettes, and lit one, taking a seat on the sofa while he smoked.

The tip of the cigarette glowed and dimmed. His pale face looked visibly lost.

He didn’t want to entangle himself with his past, but he had no choice. To seek justice for the victims, he needed trustworthy people. Today, he contacted his superior. Then tomorrow, he might contact Timmy. Once a rule was broken, the bottom line would keep shifting.

Was this the right thing to do? When his master found out, would he be angry?

***

Half an hour later, over a dozen police cars surrounded Councilor Doreen’s mansion. Officer Green watched the departing ambulances with a terrifyingly grim look on his face. Stretcher after stretcher got carried out of the basement, covered in white cloth.

The eight councilors looked dazed with distorted faces and eyes rolling into their skulls, letting out heart-rending screams whenever they temporarily regained consciousness.

Green clutched the ledger to his chest for safekeeping, refusing to give it to anyone. He had mobilized officers to blockade all eight mansions in this row, every one of them armed with live ammunition and authorized to shoot freely if they spotted anyone suspicious approaching.

Green was in a foul mood. This case was beyond troublesome and involved corrupt officers in the police force. No matter how reluctant he was about taking responsibility, he had to. He cursed when he thought of the pressure he’d face.

He didn’t see Bo, but only wet footprints, a damp sofa, and an ashtray full of cigarette butts.

“Greetings, Officer Green.”

A black sedan stopped outside the police cordon. Several men in black suits got out, flashing their credentials before quickly approaching Officer Green.

“What took you so long?” Green huffed. “The altar and the strange drawings are in the basement. I know the rules. You’re professionals, and I won’t ask questions but this one.”

“Go on.” One of the suited men put on white gloves and sent his colleagues ahead.

“Six months ago, Senior Inspector Beau Philip, who was investigating this case, disappeared,” Green said, frustrated. “Tonight, I got a call from him. He’s dealt with everything, but he told me that he’s dead. Can a professional give me an explanation?”

The man in black said after a moment, “Generally speaking, death is irreversible. But there are exceptions. I’m afraid I can’t give you a reasonable explanation.”

“So? Inspector Philip died, but came back?”

“That... isn’t wrong...” The man in black interlaced his gloved hands. “Officer Green, we’ve known each other for a while. To say something you wouldn’t want to hear, Inspector Philip’s return is more troubling than the case we’re dealing with today.”

“What? Are you looking down on my man?”

“Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not questioning Inspector Philip’s competence. He was an excellent officer worthy of everyone’s respect... However, no one knows how he came back. We usually prepare for the worst. We can’t rule out the possibility that he’s become an evil spirit and fallen under the thrall of a terrible entity. If you ever encounter him, please keep your distance.”

Green waved him away irritably, thanking him for the warning. Yes, it was good advice, but really not something he would like to hear.

The man in black nodded and went down into the basement, while Green walked out to smoke on the street corner, back pressed against the wall.

“Boss!”

A voice came from the other side of the corner. Green’s hand trembled as he worked the lighter.

He didn’t shout. Staying calm, he lit the cigarette and exhaled a long stream of white smoke. “Beau, are you really dead?”

“A hundred percent. You can see for yourself if you turn around.”

“I’ll pass. You must look hideous right now.”

“A bit.”

“Want a cigarette?”

“Give me the whole pack.”

They leaned against the wall and smoked together without looking at each other. As they conversed quietly, they spoke without sorrow. Green even asked about the water temperature at the bottom of the Thames.

The atmosphere was unusually warm, as if they had returned to the past, until Green brought up the elephant in the room.

“What about Timmy? What will you do? Are you going to call her?”

“I don’t know... I really don’t...”