The man's heart finally began to settle down.

He had escaped the building corrupted by the shadow of the Warp, fled those terrifying mirrors and burning flames, and arrived at the assembly hall watched over and blessed by the Holy Master. Now, trustworthy comrades surrounded him, the flickering lights conveyed reassuring power, and the encouragement and care of like-minded people were gradually dispelling all the panic and tension.

It seemed nothing terrible would happen.

So, the man in the thick black coat took a long breath, then picked up the glass of water Duncan offered him, preparing to moisten his throat, which was a little dry from running all the way.

But as soon as he picked up the glass and saw the rippling water inside, he felt a little uncomfortable, and a vague unease rose from the bottom of his heart. So, he put the glass back where it was.

Obviously, this was a "sequel" to the previous terrifying experience. He felt that he had better not touch any drinks in a glass for at least a few hours—if he really had to, he'd find a straw later.

"So what exactly happened?" the sallow-haired, gloomy-faced cultist who had just handed him the water asked with concern. "What kind of trouble did you run into?"

Around the round table, the other Annihilation cultists also turned their gazes over, all with curious and solemn expressions on their faces.

"That dream... the dream of the Nameless One mentioned by the End Propagator, it has intricate structures and is protected by a layer of barriers," the man in the black coat sighed, still shaken. "The entrance didn't 'naturally appear'. I don't know how the other comrades who tried to enter are doing, but I was blocked, even those solar remnants were kept out. But that's not the worst part, the worst part is..."

The man suddenly stopped, looked at the "comrade" sitting next to him with some doubt, and frowned slightly: "Duncan, are you okay? You look terrible..."

"Me? I feel fine," the sallow-haired "Annihilation cultist" laughed, his laughter sounding a little hoarse. "You're too nervous."

"You are indeed too nervous. Duncan's face has always been sickly like that," another person at the round table shook his head. "Continue, what's the worst part—it would take more than an ordinary situation to make you react like this."

"...Duncan Abnomal, the cursed wraith returned from the Warp," the man in black said with lingering fear. "He intervened in that 'Nameless One's Dream'."

The assembly hall fell silent instantly, as if an invisible freezing wind had swept through, making the air in the basement suddenly feel thick and stagnant.

In this sudden, unbearable silence, the man in black felt a heavy pressure, but he quickly adjusted his emotions and continued: "I first encountered a very troublesome psychiatrist. That psychiatrist broke through the 'psychological chamber' I had specially set up. Then, in the open area of the Nameless One's Dream, I encountered that even more troublesome 'Sea Witch'—things weren't too bad at this point, those solar remnants held back the witch's actions, but suddenly, Duncan Abnomal appeared...

"That wraith messed everything up. Those solar remnants and their 'blood relatives' were simply not worth mentioning. The external intelligence was wrong. Duncan Abnomal and the 'Sea Witch' are not enemies at all—they communicated in front of me, and their relationship was much more harmonious than the outside world guessed.

"Remember the news from Han Shuang? I even suspect... the Lost Fleet was never disbanded at all. The Radiant Star and the Sea Mist have been secretly carrying out that wraith's orders from beginning to end, and this time... I happened to stumble upon their secret. That wraith and his pair of children must also be paying attention to the 'Nameless One's Dream'..."

The man in black spoke quickly, his mind more active than ever before. The previous horrifying experiences were now being reorganized and connected in his mind, supplemented by various intelligence reports that had been secretly circulating through various channels recently, finally forming a very convincing chain of logic, at least enough to convince himself. In this statement, he felt that he had finally straightened out his messy thoughts—and understood everything.

However, a gaze from across the round table, as substantial as it was, suddenly fell on him, interrupting the man in black's statement.

"Wait," the owner of that gaze spoke. He was a dignified old man with white hair, piercing eyes, and a voice that was low and yet carried a hint of the leader's seriousness. "Are you saying that you encountered that Warp shadow in the Nameless One's Dream, and that you've been targeted by Him?"

"Yes... yes," the man in black felt a burst of tension. Under the "Envoy's" gaze, he instinctively felt a little fear, but he still braced himself and replied, "He tracked me to the real world and tried to invade my hiding place through the mirrors, but I found the pattern of his invasion into the real world and blocked those 'channels'..."

He said this quickly, and finally gradually felt the coldness in the "Envoy's" gaze. His slow and numb mind reacted accordingly, and he finally noticed—the noise that had been lingering in his mind, and the invisible things that were jumping and wriggling at the edge of his vision.

He slowly stood up, his muscles trembling slightly. He accidentally bumped into the "comrade" sitting closest to him—the latter looked up at him and gave him a friendly smile, but hidden deep within that smile was an indescribable flavor.

The man in black felt inexplicably tense, and hesitantly and nervously said: "Duncan, why... why is your face even worse than before..."

The sallow-haired, morbidly gloomy "Annihilation cultist" sighed and shook his head with some regret.

"Annihilation cultists—from a certain point of view, your peculiar 'symbiotic ecology' actually has a natural resistance to me, because the abyssal demons are very sensitive to perception and don't have enough intelligence to weigh the pros and cons, so it only takes a short time for these demons to collapse. Then, the 'carriers' transformed from you as materials will be damaged. In the best-case scenario, they can only last for a dozen minutes..."

The "Annihilation cultist" called "Duncan" said unhurriedly, and as he spoke, a slight crackling sound came from all over his body. A dark shadow, vaguely bound by chains, seemed to struggle and dissipate behind him, and his body quickly became covered with black cracks, gradually collapsing and falling apart.

Duncan slowly opened his hands. The abyssal demon that had coexisted with this body had died, and the body gradually turned to ashes.

"But the good news is, even for such a short time, I still heard a lot of useful things."

That body completely turned to ashes, and countless black ashes silently scattered in the flickering dim light.

The man in black watched this scene in horror. In those brief seconds, he couldn't even say whether fear, regret, or anger surged into his heart first. Then, he suddenly reacted, looked up at the "Envoy" sitting across the round table, and cried: "I am guilty—"

"You are guilty."

The white-haired "Envoy" said expressionlessly, raised his hand and pointed forward. In the darkness, silent and invisible shadows suddenly appeared, then silently disappeared into the assembly hall. In just this short moment, the "guilty" man in black had already lowered his head, his body slumped on the chair.

After a few more seconds, the body quickly burst into flames. Black flames instantly devoured his flesh and blood, emitting a sickening smell.

The cultists in the assembly hall silently watched all of this, not a single person making a sound, until the burning black ashes had completely collapsed. A tall figure hesitated and broke the silence: "Envoy, we..."

The person called "Envoy" did not speak. The white-haired cult leader simply glanced at everyone in the room, then expressionlessly got up, went to close the entrance to the assembly hall, and locked the secret door used for emergency evacuation. Then, he whispered a prayer in front of these two doors—black thorns grew rapidly during his prayer, and sealed the door in the blink of an eye.

The small, thin cultist who had been responsible for leading the visitors immediately stood up when he saw this: "Envoy! What are you doing..."

"Duncan was one of the earliest members of our group," the cult leader said calmly. His gaze swept over the two piles of black ashes beside the round table. "When do you think he was 'transformed'?"

The Annihilation cultists in the room looked at each other, and finally reacted one after another, their faces showing a horrified expression after realization.

"He is among us," the Envoy returned to the round table, looked at the believers gathered here, and slowly said, "At any moment, any person, any face—He has entered."

"What should we do?" someone at the round table asked.

"From now on, do not discuss the secrets of our Lord, do not exchange information about the Order—With mortal bodies, we are powerless to resist the shadow of the Warp, but the Lord will still witness our courage and perseverance. We will no longer reveal any information to that wraith, no matter what kind of intimidation and bewitchment He wants to exert here..."

The "Envoy" said slowly, then he opened his hands, and solemnly continued as if preaching—

"I will find a way to pass on the information about that Warp wraith, including his methods of invasion and bewitching power. At the same time, I will stay here with you. As you can see, I have sealed all the passages here.

"Believers, the moment to prove your loyalty to the Lord has arrived. Let us pray—in the kingdom deep in the abyss, the Lord's blessing will grant our souls eternal life. All the suffering today will be compensated in that eternal kingdom.

"Now, let the prayers begin."

Chapter 13 End