Chapter 1 Shadows in the Spirit Realm Fade

The shadow clusters in the Spirit Realm faded, and the noisy clamor and滔天malice (tāo tiān malice, overwhelming malice) that permeated the entire space quickly dissipated along with them.

Agatha raised her left hand, quietly "watching" the emaciated heretic who had fallen at the edge of the triangular area. The latter was writhing on the ground in pain, the black chains extending from his body already shattered. Smoke and dust rose from the broken chains, and they were weathering into sand and dust, piece by piece.

With the death of the symbiotic abyssal demon, this heretic's life would soon reach its end—but at least for now, he could still answer some questions.

Although Agatha didn't have much hope that this stubborn heretic would truly cooperate with her, she slowly walked over and stopped at the edge of the triangle, looking down at the dying cultist.

"You were actually able to completely erode and replace an infrastructure facility right under the Church's nose, even replacing all the priests... I'm quite surprised," she said slowly, her voice seemingly mixed with the low echoes from a tomb. This dizzying sound could weaken most people's defenses of will. "How did you do it?"

The dying heretic struggled to raise his head, but only revealed a mocking smile. There was no fear on his emaciated face. "You guess?"

Agatha was unmoved. "Your lair is in Frost City, isn't it?"

"Heh..." The cultist's head trembled. He used all his strength to prop himself up, lying on his back on the pale ground, to face Agatha's gaze. "Don't waste your effort. What if it's in Frost? You won't find it... The day you find the sanctuary is the day we succeed, you foolish clergy..."

Agatha was expressionless, simply raising her staff and touching the tip to the cultist's chest. "What exactly do you want to do? Use the so-called 'Prime Element' to pollute the city-state? Or are you fantasizing about using those 'counterfeits' that can't even maintain themselves to replace the living people in the city-state? What connection do you have with the forces in the Deep Sea? Are you related to the Submersion Project?"

A cluster of pale flames ignited at the end of the staff, burning flesh and soul. The immense pain caused the cultist to twitch and convulse, but this heretic, already deep in fanatical belief, simply gritted his teeth, glaring at the gatekeeper before him. All that could be squeezed from between his chattering teeth was a horrifying, eerie laugh: "Heh... heh... that promised... is about to descend... no one... no one can escape..."

Agatha finally frowned. She slowly raised her arm, and the cultist was lifted into the air by her staff, the pale flames burning his body, which had been twisted by long-term symbiosis with the abyssal demon, making him look like a tattered cloth fluttering in the fire.

Her voice was cold, like the flow of a tomb: "One last question. You heretics... why can you speak the name of the God of Death?"

In the pale flames, a smile slowly bloomed on the cultist's emaciated face. He seemed particularly pleased, and when he saw the Church's gatekeeper confused by this question, even the pain brought by the "cremation" was halved.

"The Abyssal Holy Master brought revelation... the directions of all faiths in the world are no different... Those of us who have received revelation have already crossed the so-called boundaries... Gatekeeper, do you think there's really any difference between your god and the Holy Master?"

Agatha's expression instantly changed. The cultist before her was actually comparing the Abyssal Holy Master to the God of Death. Such blasphemous words filled her with anger. However, the cultist revealed a final smile of relief in the burning flames, not giving her a chance to continue questioning him. He swallowed his last breath, leaving only a few remains that quickly turned to ashes.

"... Madman's words, twisted and confused."

Agatha's face was gloomy as she slowly lowered her staff. The anger in her heart remained, but these emotions did not interfere with her normal judgment. After controlling her emotional fluctuations, she immediately began to think.

Aside from his last remark comparing the Abyssal Holy Master to the God of Death, this cultist, who had been stubborn to the end, had actually revealed quite a bit of information that could be inferred.

They did indeed have a "lair" in Frost City, and they called this lair a "sanctuary," which meant that it was indeed a place for holding rituals. This matched the currently known information. That sanctuary was "hidden" using a special method, making it extremely difficult to find. And he mentioned earlier that when the sanctuary was found, it would be when they succeeded... So, the method of hiding that place was likely related to the progress of their "ritual." The closer the ritual was to completion, the more obvious its hiding would be...

Was it because holding the ritual would inevitably leak some aura? Or was exposing the sanctuary an essential part of completing the ritual?

The cultist also mentioned a sentence, "the promised is about to descend," which perhaps corresponded to the ultimate "prophecy" in their belief system: the power of the Abyssal Holy Master would subvert the real world, and the abyssal deep sea, originally located in the depths of the world, would become the new "reality." Those crazy Annihilation Cultists had always regarded the abyssal deep sea as their promised land. There should be no doubt about this.

But how would this process be achieved? Just by constantly releasing "Prime Element" into the city-state? This was obviously not enough... Those "counterfeits" could hardly maintain their own stability for long, so how could they pollute the entire city-state?

Unless... those Annihilation Cultists had a way to stabilize the "counterfeits" for a long time. They could create such an environment, or... transform Frost into such an environment...

Agatha frowned, quickly ended her thoughts, and looked around.

She was still in the Spirit Realm, and the things around her were illuminated by the pale light pouring in from the cracks in the ceiling, appearing shadowy and indistinct. Faint noises came from all directions, and the never-satisfied shadows of the Spirit Realm were stirring again—a feast couldn't keep them quiet for too long.

The young gatekeeper shook her head, raised her left hand, and put her eyeball back into its socket.

The faint noises around her instantly disappeared, and the shadowy lights and the black, white, and gray space instantly regained color. The aura of the real world rushed towards her.

Agatha gently breathed a sigh of relief and took out eye drops from her clothes, but suddenly, her movements stopped.

It was completely quiet all around, and there was no one there.

Agatha raised her head and looked around. She couldn't see the black-clothed guards she had brought, nor the sewage treatment center manager who had run away earlier, nor the ashes and remains left by the three cultists and those dozen "counterfeits"—

In theory, she had eliminated those cultists and "counterfeits" in the Spirit Realm, and in the real world, there should simultaneously be remains of them after they were eliminated.

The silence around her was too eerie. She couldn't even sense the presence of any living people nearby.

Agatha frowned tightly. She rotated her eyes, easing the dryness of her eyeballs while cautiously observing the environment. Then, she slowly walked towards the door not far away.

The slightly rusty metal door had a crack in it, as if someone hadn't closed it tightly when leaving in a hurry.

With a creaking noise, the metal door was slowly pushed open.

Behind the door was a long corridor. The gas lamps in the corridor were burning calmly, bright, but without any sense of warmth or security from the light.

"Tap... tap... tap..."

The sound of her staff and heels landing echoed crisply and hollowly in the corridor. Agatha slowly walked forward along the corridor.

The entire sewage treatment center was empty.

But there were no enemies to be seen.

She walked straight through the factory area and arrived at the open space outside the factory.

The sky was dim and heavy, and chaotic, thick clouds covered the city-state. Only some weak light permeated between the clouds, barely allowing one to see that it was daytime. The buildings in sight were shrouded in this dim light, surrounded by a cold, deathly, and strange atmosphere.

Agatha clearly remembered that when she arrived at the sewage treatment center, the weather outside was still clear and sunny—the sun was high in the sky, and there were no clouds for thousands of miles above the city-state.

The sun?

A trace of doubt suddenly arose in Agatha's heart, and then these doubts expanded into a clear sense of tearing in her cognition. She suddenly realized something and raised her head again to carefully observe the sky.

The sky only had chaotic light of unknown origin. There was no celestial body that could be called the "sun."

Agatha tried to recall what the "sun" looked like, recall the concept of the "sun."

She couldn't remember. It was as if a thick curtain covered her reason, preventing her from remembering what that "sun" in her memory looked like. But one thing was very clear—in this world, there should exist something called the "sun," something that naturally hung high in the sky, something that could emit light and heat and illuminate all things!

"... Cognitive interference, can affect the gatekeeper... astonishing strength, and covers the entire environment..." Agatha muttered to herself. After a brief moment of surprise, she quickly calmed down and observed her surroundings again.

"It's an otherworld."