Chapter 166

Chapter 166

Ghrr!

A mouth filled with razor-sharp fangs loomed before his eyes, ready to sink into his neck. Marcron abruptly jolted awake from his nightmare.

Ha, ha...

He was still alive?

Marlon absently touched his neck, discovering it swathed in thick bandages and plaster. He seemed to be lying in a room resembling a hospital ward, surrounded by machines monitoring his vital signs.

A voice came from outside the room as someone pushed the door open, "You're awake?"

"Where... am I?"

"You're in New Port, beneath the church. Father Austin brought you back here," the nurse said gently. "Do you feel any discomfort elsewhere?"

Marlon felt his pocket, indeed finding no phone. This meant that he had indeed been attacked by the dog, and his memory was still frozen at that moment. The mere thought of the dog's sharp teeth caused the pain in his neck to resurface.

Wait, Austin brought him back. What about that phone and the recording on it...!

Eager to get out of bed, he was promptly stopped by the nurse. "Your wounds haven't fully healed yet."

"Austin, where's Austin?!"

"Lord Austin is in a meeting with the other elders. They said they can't wait indefinitely since you've been unconscious for too long," the nurse explained.

As soon as she finished speaking, Malon impatiently waved her away, bolting out of the room through the door. "Tell me where the meeting room is?!"

Malon burst in just as God Amongst Men was concluding his report on their investigation in Arkham.

"Oh, Malon," God Amongst Men's eyes lit up with delight as he stepped forward, arms open wide. "It's wonderful to see you awake."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted the meeting," Malon said, regretful after his impulsive entrance. Looking at the assembly of cult leaders in the conference room, he suddenly felt uneasy and turned to God Amongst Men. "Did I miss something?"

"No, you've come at the perfect time," God Amongst Men smiled, guiding the nervous Malon to the front. "Ladies and gentlemen, let's give a round of applause to this brave warrior. Thanks to Mr. Malon's fearlessness, we were able to gather such valuable information!"

Indeed, some people exuded confidence and grace with every move they made. The high-ranking officials seated around the conference table began applauding spontaneously.

The new cardinal, the supreme leader of the Secret Order, and the heads of numerous smaller organizations...

These figures, whom he could only look up to in the past, were now applauding him.

This applause swelled into a surging tide of emotion within Malon, leaving his eyes moist with gratitude. He felt that all the fright and risks he had encountered on this mission were amply rewarded.

He stole a glance at God Among Men beside him, who was also clapping. Their gaze met, filled with approval.

He hadn't seized all the credit while Malon was unconscious; instead, he had put him in the spotlight, acknowledging his contributions.

Malon's heart, which had been suspended high since he awoke, finally eased, and he expressed his gratitude to the divine presence: "Thank you."

The Divine on Earth smiled at him before turning back to the assembly of cult leaders. "Now that the other key figure in this mission has arrived, let's go through the previous report once more. You may add anything you think is necessary."

Malon replied, "No problem."

"Our task was to go to Arkham City and uncover Miskatonic University's secrets. However, shortly after landing, we encountered an eerie event," the Divine on Earth recounted the bizarre mist and their hotel encounter. As he mentioned the loss of two team members, his expression was one of deep sorrow. "We suspect that we've entered a mystical realm. Under the shroud of the fog, everything became askew. On reflection, even our emotions began to exhibit abnormalities, making us highly excitable."

"A mystical realm? Are you certain?" the Cardinal in red asked, surprised.

Both Malon, that minor wizard, and the short man knew of the two ways to create a Secret Realm. The cardinal, naturally, was aware as well. Considering that there had never been any rumors about mists in Arkham before, there was only one possibility left.

"Let's be clear," God on Earth said, "at the very least, this mist wasn't formed naturally. Under its cover, we've clearly been separated from reality, and creatures that don't belong in this world have appeared within."

"Arkham is the territory of the Secret Church," someone at the table said then. "I remember gathering intel on that city. In the past few months, it's been abnormally lively with several major incidents, including the whole city falling into a coma, monsters appearing, and even rumors of a god showing up. Of course, the government later explained all these as gas leaks."

He made an exaggerated gesture and shrugged. "Isn't that a cliché explanation?"

The people in the conference room chuckled, but the leader of the Secret Order didn't. "So, a Secret Realm has indeed appeared in Arkham, and it's likely the work of a god?"

"I personally believe the probability is high," God on Earth said. "We all know what happened in Orland recently. An angel even appeared in the city center, not to mention the battle between angels and Satan. That can't be explained away by a gas leak."

"Obviously, these successive occurrences in the real world have almost pushed the mysterious side into the public's sight. This hasn't happened in centuries. Something unknown must have changed somewhere in the world. And the truth is…" God on Earth swept his gaze across the high-ranking officials of the various cults. "We've also received the will of the gods we serve recently, haven't we? So many evil gods wanting to descend—it's unprecedented. The world is changing."

The people present fell silent. They had considered this as well. It was unusual to have so many rituals happening at once.

"The cardinal," God on Earth continued after a pause, "you've already tacitly approved of my speculation."

"Alright, after leaving the hotel, we entered the mist. We were still discussing how to find Miskatonic University and gather intel when we were attacked by monsters. Then, we were saved, and the one who saved us happened to be a Miskatonic student."

"Wait, you were rescued by students from Michigan University?" someone asked, "What a coincidence, right?"

Divinity on Earth continued, "I don't believe it was a coincidence. From their conversation, they've been rescuing ordinary people who accidentally wander into the mystic realm and bring them to Michigan University. Then, they let them leave once the mist dissipates."

"And this time, I learned a crucial piece of information—our inability to locate Michigan University in reality is due to their use of a special spell that conceals its traces in the real world. The university only opens its gates and becomes visible to the public when the mist appears."

"Are you sure about this?"

Divinity on Earth exchanged a glance with Malcolm and nodded. "We're certain."

"This truly is crucial information."

Whispers filled the conference room.

"If we can only find Michigan University when the mist appears, combined with those monsters in the mystic realm, attacking the university will become incredibly challenging."

"Yes, and it would also make it difficult for us to establish a presence in that city."

"Divinity doesn't appear for no reason. It seems that the secretive church is likely the representative of that divine entity."

No divine intervention was needed to spark discussion among the cult leaders in the conference room, who had already deduced a wealth of information on their own. The deity smiled at their industriousness.

"It's not entirely inaccurate," someone ventured.

"But why would the big guy share this intel with them?" another wondered.

"On one hand, it's to plug the loophole of Miskatonic University being untraceable in reality. On the other, it's likely to discourage them from launching a desperate attack on Miskatonic or even contemplating establishing a cult base in Arkham," someone explained.

"Ah, I see."

Through the deity's account, the New Port attendees began to grasp the dynamics in Arkham. The mysterious Miskatonic and the secretive cult seemed to be engaged in a bipolar struggle, with Miskatonic at a disadvantage, otherwise they wouldn't go through the trouble of concealing their headquarters.

Once the room had digested the information, the deity announced, "Alright, let's now witness the fruits of our mission firsthand."

He took out a memory card from his phone and started projecting the footage.

Images appeared on the whiteboard, starting from when Malon left Miskatonic's infirmary. A school shrouded in fog came into view.

"Unfortunately, due to the monster attacks in the mist, my two companions fell unconscious, leaving us to continue the exploration alone," the deity said regretfully. However, no one in the conference room, not even the group that had dispatched the alluring woman, paid attention to this detail. Instead, they craned their necks, intently watching the school that had outwitted the various factions of New Port.

There was little to comment on regarding the school's buildings and surroundings, as the thick fog obscured clear views. Soon, as Malon's camera panned into a classroom, an angry shout echoed from the conference room.

"Damn it, they're actually students!"

Malon looked over to see a priest from the Church of the Deep Sea, one of the hardest-hit churches. The Miskatonic group had not only foiled their summoning of an evil deity but also exposed their tax evasion, leading to the freezing of their church's finances. They were now struggling to put food on the table!

The Church of the Deep Sea loathed these so-called students more than anyone. This incident also served as a warning to other churches, as tax inspectors were now treated with high esteem by the new bishop and frequently borrowed to conduct emergency audits in other churches. These inspectors provided valuable intelligence that supported the players' operations, working behind the scenes.

"Silence, Holt," the cardinal spoke up, his aged face grave as he too watched the footage intently. "You have yet to identify the crux of the issue."

The priest of the Church of the Deep Sea took a deep breath and glanced around, noticing the solemn expressions of those present.

"They have proper training, a systematic knowledge transfer, and profound mystic foundations," the High Priest of the Secret Order explained, addressing Holt's confusion. "That is what makes them terrifying. It's why we previously refused to acknowledge their connection to a school. A school means a continuous stream of individuals knowledgeable about the mysterious world will graduate and become forces against us."

"What's so surprising about that?" asked Holt, puzzled. "Isn't it the same with the Audit Bureau?"

"Oh? Can the Audit Bureau prevent almost all divine descent rituals across the city? Can they cause chaos in the New Port? And that mysterious door – we still have no idea what it is, only that it's somehow connected to Miskatonic students," the cardinal responded. "Most importantly, consider this: as long as this school exists, Miskatonic students will continue to emerge."

Holt's vision darkened. "Alright, enough... please stop."

I'll have nightmares tonight! Haunted by visions of those people!

The confirmation that the University of Michigan was indeed a repository of knowledge was solidified, and the scene that unfolded in the library left every cultist present with widened eyes.

"What a joke! Tens of thousands of years of ancient history?!"

"The Book of the Undead, I always assumed the original copies were long lost."

"Goodness gracious, what does this book say? Someone actually ventured into the Dream Realm and encountered such an existence?!"

If the scene in the classroom had merely weighed heavily on the devotees, what they witnessed in the library was nothing short of explosive to them.

Merely flipping through a few books that Malon and the God on Earth casually perused revealed the profound depth of Magnus's heritage. Such historical secrets were openly displayed on the shelves. And what did they behold? The Book of the Dead, the ultimate goal of all wizards?

There were indeed wizards among the cultists present, and every one of them was familiar with the legend of the Book of the Dead. It was rumored to be the origin of all dark magic and forbidden arts, containing knowledge that humanity had frenziedly sought after.

Naturally, any wizard would be driven mad with desire for this book. Even if a fortunate few managed to find fragments, they were merely copies that had passed through countless hands, translated in peculiar ways.

It was said that the Book of the Dead had several original versions, translated into different languages like Latin, Greek, and Duriak. After the originals were destroyed, these ancient editions were the closest to the source. However, due to the passage of time, these versions had long vanished, leading everyone to believe that they were lost to history.

Yet, to everyone's surprise, the University of Michigan actually possessed a Latin version.

The knowledgeable ones present could feel their breaths growing heavy as they fixated their eyes on the book in the image, wishing they could step into the frame and lay their eyes on this ultimate tome.

"Malone, you've seen this book, haven't you?" a priest asked in a hoarse voice. "Have you verified the contents? Are they genuine?"

"They are," Malone replied without hesitation. "I had the fortune of seeing a fragment, and its contents matched precisely with what is recorded here. Moreover, after digesting too much information, I began losing my sanity, which aligns with the characteristics of the Book of the Dead as rumored."

A wave of awe swept through the crowd, and many enviously gazed at this fortunate individual. They had initially thought this was a suicide mission, but now it seemed more like an extraordinary opportunity! The knowledge contained within the Book of the Dead — even a mere glimpse of a fragment was incredibly beneficial.