Chapter 177

Chapter 177

The cults in the new port once again gathered for a meeting.

This was not an uncommon sight in recent times, which was quite unusual. In the past, these cults didn't have hostile relations, but they weren't exactly close either. Their beliefs were different, and they were competing for territory and followers in the new port. As such, they generally avoided gathering together to prevent any conflicts that might arise from their rituals.

However, things had changed. It was as if a storm had descended upon the new port, bringing with it irresistible changes. These local powerhouses had no choice but to seek each other's warmth, holding numerous meetings within just three short weeks. They even established a multi-cult university, a rare occurrence.

Now, they entered the conference room once more. The high-ranking members of each cult took their customary seats, waiting patiently for the host, God on Earth, to speak, as per tradition.

Upon noticing that the cardinal wasn't sitting in his usual place but stood solemnly at the position where God on Earth usually presided, they suddenly realized that this meeting was unlike the usual school affairs.

"The recent news must have reached you all by now. That man has returned," the cardinal began the meeting with those words.

The attendees, especially the elders who had lived through the Days of Chaos, grew restless and uneasy. They broke out in cold sweat and secretly regretted attending this meeting.

Disappointment flickered in the cardinal's eyes as he observed their cowardice. He gave them no time to recover, stating bluntly, "I'll cut to the chase. You've likely received news from your young believers that a new history professor has joined Bletchley University. Coincidentally, this person is someone we're familiar with. I'm sure you've heard the name Amos. I can assure you that he didn't apply for the professorship with pure intentions."

"Amos," murmured a middle-aged priest in his forties. His denomination lacked veteran followers, making it a relatively new one, and thus, his memory of the name was limited to some records from fifty years ago. "Is he the same devil's child from those records? He's still alive?"

"Regardless of how your churches describe that calamity fifty years ago," the cardinal said coldly, "it would be wise for you to discard any illusions. He's back, and many have seen him with their own eyes. That damned devil is now among the young talents in our carefully prepared university, teaching them how to enter the Rift of Dreams!"

This news stirred up the smaller denominations who had initially planned to bury their heads in the sand. The matter of the Rift of Dreams wasn't exactly a secret within their churches; after all, quite a number of their higher-ups possessed supernatural abilities. However, they hadn't promoted this method widely within their churches.

There were several reasons for this. For instance, not everyone was qualified, and their followers were prone to going mad, making it a fruitless endeavor. Most importantly, there was an unspoken rule passed down by the survivors of fifty years ago.

Don't enter dreams, don't gain powers, or the devil will come for you.

All church elders had heard this saying, but they hadn't fully understood its meaning. Now, they finally grasped its significance...

The situation became tense as those present realized they hadn't received the news promptly. These denominations were usually scattered around New Port or the city outskirts, and the students didn't always make the long journey back to report.

"What should we do? Revoke his teaching credentials? We could simply fire him."

"Then wait for him to come knocking on your door to reason with you? I think that's a great idea! Why don't you take the lead?"

"Call the students back. Without them, he can't teach thin air."

"No way, how can the school function like this?"

"What are we afraid of, really? He's just one person. With all our churches united, do we still fear him alone?"

"..."

God stood aside rather unusually, observing the meeting with leisure, as it was an uncommon occurrence for Him not to preside over such gatherings.

Of course, the devotees were unaware that many more eyes were on them than those present in the room.

"I've figured it out now, they're really scared of Amos."

"Amos' prestige, huh. Speaking of which, what has he even done to warrant this kind of reaction? It's like they're facing a tidal wave or a fierce beast."

"It's understandable, guys. Think back to that second Main Quest Exorcism Day."

"Well, here we go again, getting riled up."

"I'm just genuinely curious about that chaotic Day of Discord from 50 years ago. Hasn't anyone tried to find out more about it?"

"Not at all. The NPCs are as tight-lipped as oysters. It's near impossible to pry any information from them."

"I'm merely curious about what agreement Amos and our Master have reached. Are they plotting something again?"

"It's practically confirmed. But as long as it involves dealing with cultists, I'm all for it, with both hands and feet!"

"Silence!" The cardinal rubbed his temples in exasperation. His intervention finally silenced the bickering in the conference room.

"Let's take things one step at a time, everyone. I called you here today to address this matter."

"Firstly, revoking his teaching credentials... Unfortunately, that's virtually impossible. Despite our ignorance of his intentions, is that man the type to abide by rules? Even if we expel him, he wouldn't give a damn about any so-called teaching qualifications."

"As for recalling the students or temporarily closing the university..." At this point, the Cardinal's eyes twitched slightly, honestly feeling a twinge of heartache. This was a crucial time for the steady growth of the university; suspending academic activities now would render all previous efforts futile. Moreover, it remained to be seen whether these people would even send the students back when the time came.

One could say that at this moment, the cardinal had selfish intentions. The prospect of fame had been within his grasp, and now he was being asked to let it slip away - no less than a wolf's meal snatched from its jaws. Though closing the school was a temporary solution, what if Amos dug his heels in and refused to leave the university? Would they still proceed with their promotional efforts? The maintenance of the facilities, the cost of equipment, and staff salaries were all considerable expenses.

"We'll revisit that point later. Gentlemen, consider the finances. If the universities can't function, I believe most of our churches would be in peril."

Saying this, the cardinal couldn't help casting a glance at the compliant God on Earth standing obediently in the corner. Originally, their plan for the initial investment wasn't supposed to be that substantial. However, they couldn't resist the tempting promises of Ultra Mega.

God's innocent smile graced the mortal realm.

"That leaves us with only one option left, then..." someone murmured softly.

The Supreme Pontiff suddenly interjected, "I don't believe it has come to that. Why not send someone to speak with him first? After 50 years, why has he resurfaced?"

The cardinal turned to him. "I don't think there's any point in talking. You don't understand him; he's just a plain madman..."

"Yes, you do understand. You just want to drag us all into his madness."

The atmosphere in the meeting room grew tense. Eventually, the cardinal relented, "I see. I'll speak with him."

And so, the meeting came to an end. It was uncertain if it was a satisfactory resolution, but the cardinal now had no choice but to confront Amos.

The conversation took place after Amos finished his class. The cardinal, accompanied by others, intercepted him. Of course, God Amongst Men was also part of the group, as players' curiosity knew no bounds.

The cardinal's face was quite recognizable around campus. Many were aware that he was the university's first-ever chancellor. Seeing him standing stiffly in front of the new history professor, people sensed something significant was about to unfold. Alert students quickly packed their things and left the classroom, leaving it deserted in no time.

"I didn't expect you to return," the cardinal said with a rigid expression.

"I didn't expect it either," Amos smiled. "You still dare to show your face before me."

The tone was far from amiable, and the cardinal's face grew stiffer. He seemed to see through Amos's mature visage the young boy he once was, but this time, the boy bore no scars of whipping, no shackles, no constraints imposed by others.

He had grown into a more formidable and terrifying presence, one who cared not for rules. The cardinal couldn't fathom why Amos would return, for revenge? But he had already exacted his fiercest vengeance upon the city fifty years ago. All those who had once bound or harmed him had been executed by his own hand, leaving wounds in the city that had yet to fully heal.

"What... What do you want?" The cardinal couldn't help asking. "You've already avenged yourself on this place. That church is long gone. Everything now is so different from fifty years ago."

Amos appeared taken aback by the directness of the question. After a moment's contemplation, he chuckled. "If I said it's for pleasure, how would you react?"

Pleasure...

The cardinal's breath caught. Staring into Amos's eyes, he saw no hint of jest. Instantly, he felt as if he'd been plunged into an ice chamber.

Yes, how could he forget? This man defied conventional judgment. Fifty years ago, for his notion of 'pleasure,' he'd thrown that vast church into chaos, leaving the New Port in a state of self-preservation.

"There's nothing left to discuss," the cardinal sighed deeply, as if the act could expel the fear swelling within him. Yes, it wasn't fifty years ago. Though no religion had regained the scale of that former church, various smaller ones had emerged, each offering their faith to different malevolent deities and learning their spells.

Counting his cards, the cardinal found some solace. Indeed, they couldn't lose their footing again as they did fifty years ago. He believed this university would be a new beginning for their sect, and they mustn't let the ghosts of the past ruin it all.

With this thought in mind, the cardinal gave Amos a profound glance before turning to leave.

Amos merely smiled, watching his retreating figure with a deep gaze. Indeed, resistance was the way. The limits of fear from constant evasion were finite. By raising their hopes only to crush them again, he would plunge them into a nightmare.

To facilitate their ambush, Amos had deliberately stayed within the school grounds for days. Finally, on the third day, he noticed that all the students had vanished.

The entire day, the campus was eerily deserted, an unfamiliar sensation. However, Amos remained unperturbed, even feeling blissful.

At this moment, a pure white camellia adorned his chest, functioning similarly to the one Carmen wore previously – it served as Lane's eyes and ears. Due to the uniqueness of this mission, Lane's main body was waiting nearby, while his senses resided within the flower.

As Amos accidentally brushed against the petals for the third time, Lane commented casually, "If you can't control your hands, perhaps you should cut them off and use them as fertilizer."

"I'm just worried about adjusting the angle poorly, which might hinder your view," Amos immediately ceased his fidgeting. His fingers mattered less than avoiding Lane's displeasure. Changing the subject, he added, "They'll likely strike tonight. It's so boring now."

Lane ignored him, and Amos wasn't bothered by boredom. He sat quietly under the shade of a tree on the playground, engrossed in a book.

Night soon fell.

Opening his eyes, Amos smiled and stood up. "They're here."

Surrounded by the cultists in black robes and players, the playground turned into a tense arena. Ignoring the cultists' thoughts, the players were visibly excited.

Bloodthirsty: Haven't been on a cult mission in ages, heh heh.

Bald but Not Bald: Ambrose, can I give him a kick while we're at it?

Milk Tea or Not: Bro, be bold, go for his head!

As the players grew restless, the Cardinal spoke with a deep voice, "Ambrose, one last chance. Leave New Port!"

Ambrose replied, surprised, "When did you gain the audacity to speak to me like that?"

The Cardinal took a deep breath, "Attack."

Instantly, the playground transformed into a battlefield.

The first to charge at Ambrose were the low-ranking foot soldiers, unaware of the events from fifty years ago. They only knew that Ambrose was a high-ranking target marked for death by the Church. To them, victory was a foregone conclusion with their numbers. Their main goal was to impress the higher-ups, each vying to be more courageous than the next in their charge forward.

Compared to their bravado in the player chat, those who had just threatened Ambrose were now cowering. Their words were fierce, but in reality, they hovered on the sidelines, observing the situation before deciding whether to engage in combat.

This time, they made the correct assessment as well.

Amos didn't move much at all. The cannon fodder who rushed forward were instantly sliced apart by invisible blades. By the time they realized what had happened, they were already divided—either at the head or the waist.

The cardinal's expression remained unchanged. This was merely a probing attack, purely to exhaust Amos's energy. What surprised him, however, was that Amos hadn't used any spells or shown any signs of an impending attack throughout the entire process. This mystery and composure only heightened his foreboding.

But there was no turning back now. He gritted his teeth and said, "Continue! Ranged attacks!"

Amos casually took his hand out of his pocket. For tonight, he had specifically worn a white suit, like a noble attending a ball. His hair was neatly combed back, leaving a cluster at his temple, showcasing his prominent brow and straight nose. With his arms folded across his chest, a large bouquet of flowers suddenly appeared in his embrace out of thin air.

Azaleas, roses, sunflowers, camellias, daisies...

These were all treasures Amos had acquired with great effort over the years.

The cardinal viewed this opportunity as a chance to eliminate Amos. Similarly, how could Amos not seize this mission to showcase himself fully before Lane?

"Lord Lane, I hope you're watching this."

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang—

A barrage of gunfire echoed within the playground, as the cult that had seized New Harbor didn't lack firepower. Orange bullets continuously pierced through Amos's body, yet he stood his ground without dodging or blocking. He was like a worn-out sandbag, knocked backward by the recoil until he fell to the ground. His white suit was swiftly stained with blood, but strangely, the blood didn't spill like typical flowers would.

When everyone reloaded, Amos, who should've been reduced to minced meat, slowly rose to his feet. He looked down at his clothes and grinned. "Thank you all. A beautiful crimson red, just the effect I was aiming for."

Miraculously, the tattered suit began repairing itself as he spoke. Simultaneously, one of the flowers on the ground vanished without a trace.

The spectators watching from behind were mesmerized. Even gods on earth could be cool, and they didn't need to read the chat to know what people were saying.

He was pretentious, but also incredibly charismatic.

In this day and age, as long as the villain wasn't cheesy and had a charming face, they'd gain a huge fan base!

Especially Amos's current state of madness mixed with elegance, which struck a chord with a certain group of players.

"Let's be honest, I admit I'm a bit twisted, but hehe, new husband material hehe"

"I still prefer the jester, but the big bad guy is just too appealing, oh nooo"

"So handsome! He's a psycho, but seriously, so damn handsome!"

And Amos's subsequent performance didn't disappoint his fans in the slightest.

After realizing that ranged attacks were ineffective, the cardinal didn't flinch as he began another round of attempts. Be it melee or gunshots, all were merely delaying tactics to create an opening for casting spells!

However, Amos didn't give them that chance this time. Almost instantly, another rose shattered, and Amos appeared behind the cultists guarding the mages. With a swift swing of his blade, few of the spellcasting wizards managed to escape unscathed.

"Aaaah!"

The moment screams echoed from behind, the cardinal knew that their rear had been breached. The cards they had prepared beforehand proved to be mostly ineffective.

In turn, Amos found himself right in the heart of the enemy's swarming tactic!

"Hurry up! Surround him!"

A cultist bellowed, snapping the players back to reality. They charged at Amos with their weapons raised. The first player who got within a meter of Amos had his heart pierced by the latter's hand.

Amos gently withdrew his hand, pulling out the still-beating heart. Smiling, he placed it in the player's palm. The player's strength, speed, and reflexes were inhuman. Before the system notification could even ring in his ears, he watched, stunned, as his health bar drained to zero. The heart in his hand twitched twice before losing its vitality.

"Woah, I died so quickly," the player remarked, collapsing into the death linger mode, continuing to spectate the battle.

Next, the players experienced various methods of death. Upon approaching Amos, some burst into flames, others were corroded, and there were those who turned on their own teammates without warning.

"Kill, ahhhh!"

"Darn it, the enemy's behind you!"

For a moment, even the cardinal's most reliable tactic of overwhelming numbers was rendered powerless as the opponent displayed the might of being on the sixth level of Dream's Gap. Unless he wished otherwise, no one present could even touch the corner of Amos's cloak.

More and more cultists fell to the ground in pools of blood. Amos killed with the ease of plucking a wildflower from the roadside, treading on a carpet of blood as if attending a feast.

The demon drew closer and closer to the cardinal.

The cardinal's lips trembled, and he finally revealed his last trump card: "Come out, feast as you please!"

A low growl echoed first, followed by the appearance of a massive, distorted creature before everyone. Even among the cultists, few had witnessed a Shoggoth's form, and many were caught off guard and killed before they could react. The cardinal, however, couldn't afford to be concerned about that now. Gasping for air, he fixated his gaze on the Shoggoth lunging towards Amos, hoping that this monster would deter the other.

His wish came true. Amos did stop, standing still and looking up with a slight smile as the Shoggoth approached: "Long time no see, Father. How have you been?"

Father...?

The deity hesitated for a moment on earth, and a flood of question marks filled the live stream chat.

As Xorgus was about to touch Amos, its grotesque form froze, like a mouse before a cat or a frog before a snake. Its massive, tar-like body was covered in countless eyes, which now reflected Amos's face. A soul shrieked from the depths of its shattered consciousness!

"Tekeli—Li! Tekeli—Li!"

It let out a bizarre cry, fleeing the playground without looking back, even resisting the cardinal's control.

With this, the cardinal's last resort was exhausted. He could only watch in despair as Amos slaughtered his followers. Now, instead of approaching him, Amos started attacking those trying to escape.

Unnoticed by all, Amos had refrained from excessive killing after the initial few. He merely ripped off limbs or left his victims on the brink of death. Amidst the chaos, no one paid attention to the breathless bodies lying on the ground. Their minds were consumed by the demonic figure in red.

Fear and despair, once inflicted upon others by the cultists, now consumed them. Each one frantically tried to escape the devil, with no concern for the cardinal or the hierarchy. The new members only wanted to flee, while the elders, in this blood-soaked scene, were transported back to their nightmare.

"Lord, Lord," a Mithraic priest murmured the inner prayer of their cult on his deathbed, desperately hoping for a miracle more than ever.

The overwhelming bloodshed and terror had, to some extent, fulfilled additional summoning conditions. However, Amos and Lane were oblivious to this. He had completed the preparatory task and was now ready to cast the final, crucial spell.

Now was the time for the Dreaming Hour.