CHAPTER 304: 304

Behind him, Rhys parried a blade from one of the choir’s fanatics and kicked the man into the water. The choir was losing ground. Their voices were choked by screams, drowned by the brutal chants of the War God’s people. One priest tried to raise his voice, but a spear came flying and pierced his thigh. He felt shrieking.

"They’re falling apart!" one of the guards shouted.

"Don’t give them time to sing!" Rhys ordered.

Kael was already ahead. He sprinted through the chaos like a mad dog, his face twisted in excitement. Blood splattered across his face.

He grabbed another masked priest by the neck and slammed him to the ground.

"You bastard think you can whisper your way to power?" he growled. "Try that in hell."

Suddenly, a high-pitched chant began again. Two choir priests stood at the far end, holding hands, their voices merging into a strange rhythm that felt like it pierced the skull. One of the guards staggered, dropping his weapon.

Another froze.Kael felt the headache too.

"Tch..Annoying fucks!" he muttered and dashed straight toward them.

As he approached, one of the priests drew a curved dagger and slashed at him. Kael ducked, slid on the wet stone, and tackled the man by the waist, sending them both crashing into a pile of bones and broken wood. The other tried to escape, but Rhys was already there, slamming the priest’s head with the hilt of his sword.

"We’re cutting off their breath, one by one," Rhys panted.

The battlefield was madness. Water splashed everywhere. Some of the guards had tied cloth around their heads to muffle the voices. Others kept close to the berserkers, knowing that they were immune to the effects.

Another War God priest had gone down, ribs shattered, but he laughed as he bled. "My blood is proof of devotion!"

Kael rolled to the side and punched another masked priest in the throat.

"Shut up," he said again, like a commandment.

Then he turned to see Rhys being surrounded by three choir members. He jumped over a fallen guard, picked up a fallen spear, and hurled it. It impaled one of the robed figures in the leg. Rhys took the chance and knocked down the other two with a spin.

"You’re late," Rhys muttered.

Kael shrugged. "You looked like you were about to start singing with them."

"I’d rather stab my ears," Rhys replied, breathing hard.

More guards were arriving. The sound of steel clashing and war cries echoed in the underground like thunder.

Kael looked around the half-flooded basin. Most of the choir was retreating now, some dragging wounded away, others falling as they tried to chant. The War God priests, despite being bloodied and battered, stood tall like statues of fury.

It was a mess, but the battle was turning.

Kael spat to the side. "Fucking weirdos."

Rhys nodded. "Let’s finish it. And find who sent them down here."

Kael’s eyes darkened. "Yeah. There’s a nest somewhere. And I want to tear it apart."

Moments later, the rest of the group was easily overpowered. Despite looking like a bunch of lunatics, the Priests of the God of War were surprisingly efficient. They beat down their enemies with raw strength and even managed to capture a few, though most of them were left with broken bones. Baldur, leading the group, gave a short nod to Rhys, then turned his sharp gaze toward Kael.

Kael felt a strange pressure. Baldur’s eyes lingered too long on him. He knew this man had probably seen him sneaking around the cellar during his search. Rhys stepped up and spoke casually, "He’s Lord Kael. Son of the Great Duke of Veydrin."

Baldur raised an eyebrow. "Oh... You look a bit soft, but there’s some potential in you. You should stop worrying about looks and work on your muscles."

Kael blinked, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted. He gave a small nod and replied, "Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind."

Baldur grunted, waved his huge hand, and turned toward the strange man whose face had peeled back. The man was now exposed—his lips were gone, and what remained was a twisted grin that sent chills through the air. Everyone felt it. A sharp unease that crept into their bones.

"You... What are Crimson Choir rats doing here?" Baldur’s voice was firm and heavy. "Do you not know whose land you’re standing on?"

"You dare mock the Almighty of Supreme Strength?" the man snapped, voice ragged and shaking with emotion. "He is the true form of strength. The one and only God of War."

Then the man laughed—a chilling, high-pitched laugh that sounded like something scraping metal.

"Kekeke... Kekehehe..." He tilted his head in a jerky way. "Your god is strong? Hah! But can he match the Crimson Lord?"

"Why fight pain?" he asked, eyes gleaming with madness. "Why struggle when you can sing? Embrace the Crimson Lord and drown in his holiness. All your pain, gone."

Baldur’s temper flared. He slammed his foot into the ground, cracking the stone under him. "You dare insult the God of War!?"

But the madman only laughed louder. "Kill me, go ahead! I’m ready to join the Crimson Feast!" His laughter screeched like nails across glass.

"Enough!" Baldur snapped and grabbed the man’s face with his giant hand, squeezing hard.

"You say your Crimson Lord is stronger? Then where is he?" Baldur’s tone turned mocking. "If he’s so powerful, why hasn’t he shown up? Is it because he’s just a coward? Just a fucking pussy?"

The man’s eyes widened. Blood rushed into them, turning them deep red. He screamed like a wild beast, "You dare?! You lowly insect! You can’t understand the greatness of our Lord!"

His voice cracked with hatred. "I curse you! You’ll die worse than anyone ever has! The Crimson Lord will make sure of that!" he shouted, shaking in rage.

Following his screams, his body twitched and spasmed. Blood began to sparkle and seep through his skin, as if something inside him had been triggered. The air turned heavy again. Something unnatural was happening.

The man’s body suddenly started to twitch. His back arched unnaturally as veins bulged across his skin like dark, crawling roots. Blood began to bubble out from his nose and ears, splattering the ground beneath him. His fingers bent the wrong way as if snapping under pressure from inside.