Chapter 91: The Prophet of the Seventh Night (1)

"Uncle!" He tried to chase after him, but a wall of black water hit him head-on and sent him tumbling across the ground a long way.

"Shit!" Zaid tried to stop himself, but suddenly he wasn’t rolling across the ground anymore—he was flying through the air. He looked up. Valia was running away with all the determination in the world.

"Valia, let go of me!"

Valia turned to look at him. Her eyes were ablaze, just like her wings. She was giving it her all in flight.

"Do you want to die? Break the contract! Let me return to my world unbound, and I’ll let you die as you wish!"

Zaid froze in that instant, and his body shuddered. He had forgotten that there was someone who depended on his well-being...

"Alice, too..." Zaid felt the blood rush to his throat.

If he died, Valia would die... Alice wouldn’t have a chance to return. Martin, Khan, Finn, and the rest would die... they wouldn’t even have anyone to take revenge on.

They’d managed to escape in the first place thanks to Martin’s intervention during Cardinal Marcellus’s attack...

And now, under the protection of a powerful beast... Uncle Elijah—was there any better way to escape?

"Even though I don’t understand, why did he act that way?"

More than a thousand unanswered questions filled his mind, making him feel frustrated.

Suddenly, while he was walking down the hallway, he felt a small pebble fall on his head, so he looked up at the ceiling.

Then another one fell on him...

"Huh?"

All along the long, seemingly endless hallway, pebbles were falling.

"Is... Is it shaking?" he asked in a whisper so faint it was almost inaudible, but Valia heard it loud and clear.

He looked at Valia immediately. "T-tell me, Valia..."

Valia didn’t take her eyes off what was in front of her, but her eyes, ablaze with fire, wavered for a moment.

"W-what did Uncle Elijah say about when we felt a tremor?" His voice trembled, just like the floor, the walls, and the entire room.

Valia didn’t answer.

"Tell me, Valia! Answer me! That’s an order!" Zaid roared...

Valia still stared straight ahead, but some of the fire in her wings began to die down. Her speed slowed...

She, too, had mixed feelings. Maybe not like Zaid, but...

"A-Alice, is she... dead? Are they all... dead?"

Zaid clearly remembered his uncle mentioning that if there were an earthquake... there would be no salvation for them.

He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it.

And suddenly, what was falling from the ceiling wasn’t small pebbles, but whole chunks of concrete.

Valia had to maneuver as best she could to dodge them. The endless hallway gave her headaches as she tried to push away her pessimistic thoughts.

Suddenly, she spotted a black opening in the distance that seemed to have a staircase.

She saw salvation.

She sped up as much as she could, even channeling some of the fire from her eyes into her wings to fly faster. She was running out of spiritual energy, but she wasn’t going to give up.

BOOM!

The ceiling collapsed, blocking the passage, but she appeared right on the other side, emerging from the rubble and miraculously managing to prevent Zaid from being buried inside.

Their bodies tumbled across the floor just as a final chunk of concrete fell mere millimeters from where they were... finally coming to rest on the stairs.

--

A short while ago.

Sacred Temple of the Seventh Night.

All the prisoners were taken to the Sacred Hall.

When Khan, Martin, Finn, and the others entered the hall, they saw, very close to the center, a woman kneeling with her hands tied above her knees in a fetal position. She was bound much more tightly than the rest.

They recognized her at a glance: it was Alice.

Martin frowned. ’Damn bastards...’ He felt anger rising in his throat.

At the same time, he noticed that there were a lot of other people kneeling and bound just like them, with special chains that glowed red and neutralized any attempt to launch an attack.

They were arranged neatly, side by side, facing the center, where Alice lay bound and unconscious.

The room was no ordinary room; it was a place of sacrifice. It had a large altar in the center, adorned with precious stones such as sapphires and rubies. It was round and had four pillars that rose up to touch the ceiling.

On the ceiling were various designs through which a red and black liquid flowed, much like blood. These designs formed beasts, but with their heads pointing downward and twisted at impossible angles.

There was a phoenix whose head was bent several times until it reached the center. Red and black blood ran down its wings.

On the other side, a dragon with its head cut in half; in that inscription, the dragon and the phoenix were dead. Its head was also pointing toward the center.

On the other side was a human being with a spear stuck in his chest. This being’s head was covered by a red cloak engulfed in flames... or so it seemed. Blood was flowing from his left hand; he was the only one whose blood was entirely red. However, he was dead.

These three dead things up there all pointed to the same spot: the center. And in the center, there was nothing if you just looked at the ceiling.

But right in the center of the altar was something curious: a figure of a woman draped in black robes, holding a moon in one hand and an hourglass in the other. No one could see her face because the carving was specifically designed to hide her features, but no one could deny that she was beautiful.

"Did you manage to catch the special guest?" asked one of the cardinals after observing the new arrivals and not finding him.

Cardinal Marcellus shook his head. "Several archbishops ran after him; he threw himself down the slope."

"Down the slope? What a mess... The prophet will be very angry this time."

Marcellus nodded and looked toward the center. "But we have her. Ancestral Blood, right?"

"A sorceress—and a rather powerful one at that. She has special talents that blend very well with her ancestral blood; it’s the first time I’ve seen anything like it."

"We do have a fat one. Whose daughter is she?"

"Who knows? Let’s hope she doesn’t belong to any ancient clan—those guys are a real headache."

"Well, no one will know she died here."

"I hope so."

While the Cardinals chatted among themselves, some prisoners tried to escape, but ended up being whipped with flaming whips after their clothes were stripped off.

They writhed all over the room, but they didn’t die.

After a few uncounted minutes, the room fell into a deathly silence... No one understood why, but if a pin had dropped, everyone would have heard it.

Cardinal Marcellus frowned when he saw that his men hadn’t arrived with the special guest... and the ceremony was about to begin.

"Marcellus, tell me, what weighs on your heart today?" Suddenly, a somewhat effeminate yet masculine voice echoed through the room like the whisper of a demon who charms men.