A surge of heat swept through the hall, as if a ray of intense sunlight had pierced the roof and was moving above the crowd. With the appearance of this invisible heat, all the gas lamps and candlesticks in the hall seemed to be inexplicably disturbed and suppressed, becoming rapidly dim, as if sinking into shadow.

However, the Annihilation cultists in the hall did not react much to the heat. After a brief commotion, they looked up at the dome above.

Richard also looked up, his gaze sweeping across the beautiful draperies, chandeliers, and ceiling paintings above the assembly hall. He saw them illuminated as if by invisible sunlight, the alternating light and shadow moving slowly across the surface of the dome. Then, that "sunlight" finally converged at the center of the dome, where it manifested its presence—

It was a sphere, resembling a blazing sun, its surface flickering with flames, releasing scorching light and heat, while also exhibiting a surreal, transparent texture. It looked like just a projection. Then, this small solar projection slowly descended, coming to the platform in the center of the hall, before the Saint.

Richard heard hushed conversations and murmurs nearby. Some cultists were quietly expressing their dissatisfaction—the emissaries of the alien gods were becoming increasingly flamboyant and presumptuous, even foregoing the formality of notification when entering this sacred assembly site. Other cultists said that the assembly site should not be open to the alien god’s emissaries at all; their very presence was a desecration of this holy place.

But the Saint's voice suddenly rang out in everyone's mind and ears, interrupting the low hum in the hall: "Ah, our 'allies' have arrived."

As his words fell, the small solar projection that had descended to the platform gradually shed its glowing, hot shell. As the light-cast "shell" became dim and transparent, its true form appeared in everyone's sight.

A sphere composed of bizarre flesh and countless writhing tentacles, the surface of the sphere also embedded with countless eye-like structures—the Child of the Sun.

The projection slowly stretched its tentacles in the air, its eyeballs turning to look around. Almost at the same time, a phantom figure appeared below this Child of the Sun.

It was a human, wearing the gold-trimmed black robe that represented the priestly rank among the Sun cultists, his face covered by a golden mask in the shape of sunlight—this projection of a Sun priest landed on the high platform in the center of the hall, standing before the Saint, like an envoy.

The Child of the Sun in mid-air emitted a low, muffled tremor, a sound that seemed to be mixed with countless layers of whispers and noises that were difficult for the human mind to comprehend, a sound that made one's head spin.

The figure with the golden sun mask, standing before the Saint, immediately spoke, relaying the information conveyed in those muffled tremors: "I can feel that you do not welcome me."

The Saint raised his eye stalks high: "I hope you can understand that this is the assembly site of the Holy Lord. For a long time, we have not allowed the faithful or emissaries of alien gods to enter such a sacred place—but rest assured, our sincerity for cooperation will not be affected by this."

"It doesn't matter, I don't mind," the Child of the Sun's projection slowly stretched its body in the air, continuing to emit low, muffled tremors, and the Sun priest who had appeared with it immediately began to translate, "We can leave the differences in belief to the next era. Twilight is approaching, and we, the races abandoned by the Deep Sea Era, must first learn to coexist."

"Yes, learn to coexist—when all things are reshaped, there will be a world vast enough to accommodate our differences," the Saint said in a deep voice, "Is that what you have come to emphasize to me?"

"No, ally, I have come to discuss the losses we suffered in the last operation," the masked Sun priest said, "I wanted to find you during the day, but that detestable false sun remained high in the sky. Now that it has fallen, I have come.

"We lost many of our people, valuable members of our race. In the great forest woven by the 'Dream of the Nameless,' they were burned by the flames of the Usurper of Fire, and even their souls failed to return to the sanctuary—I must discuss this matter with you."

"We also feel deep sympathy and unease for the unfortunate encounters of those Sun remnants," the Saint said, his bony spikes rattling, as if expressing some dissatisfaction, "However, it was not just you who encountered setbacks in the operation… No one expected that 'His' power would appear there—after all, just recently, that ship was still far to the north, and no one thought that 'He' would interfere in this matter. And 'His' followers have already taken action. It is unreasonable and impudent for you to come to us to demand justice."

"...We do not demand justice from allies," the Child of the Sun in mid-air was silent for a few seconds, and the light surrounding it seemed to dim slightly. It murmured indistinctly, and the priest on the platform immediately began to translate, "But we must express our position—we are willing to cooperate with your actions in the Dream of the Nameless, but if you turn this 'cooperation' into unilateral exploitation, then our cooperation will end."

"I understand your meaning, emissary," the Saint said in a deep voice, "Rest assured, we will not turn a blind eye to this incident. Just now, we have decided to launch a counterattack against the followers of the Usurper of Fire. One of our next goals is to find that heretic who attacked the Sun remnants and our compatriots, and capture her and her demon—she is powerful and insidious, but we are willing to take some risks for this, to avenge those sacrificed 'remnants.'"

"We do not care whether you are truly launching an operation to avenge them, nor do we care what methods you plan to use to deal with those powerful and strange 'followers of the Usurper of Fire,'" on the high platform, the priest with the golden mask relayed the words of the Child of the Sun, "Do not forget our initial, and most fundamental goal—the Dream of the Nameless has what we each need. Honest cooperation, wholehearted coordination. We only care about this, nothing else matters."

The Saint was silent for a moment, then his bone spurs clicked, conveying a friendly attitude: "Yes, we each take what we need… We only want that tree."

The Child of the Sun slowly lowered its height, its countless eyes embedded between its tentacles quietly watching the brain encased in the bone cage on the high platform: "We only want that sun."

The surreal "heat" shrouding the assembly hall began to recede. The Child of the Sun floating in mid-air and the figure of the Sun priest on the high platform began to dim and dissipate. After a few short seconds, these two uninvited guests left the sacred assembly hall.

The hall was quiet for a while, and then the gathered Annihilation cultists breathed a sigh of relief. Richard also felt his pounding heart gradually calm down—perhaps his heartbeat had unconsciously become too fast earlier, and he even felt a slight throbbing in his chest.

He was still shaken.

Even if it was only a projection that had come here, it was still a projection of the Child of the Sun—the monster that had been directly separated from the essence of the "True Sun God" was like a demigod, and its very existence was a source of deadly pollution for mortals. And his comrades in this hall… in the end, they had not yet broken through the category of "mortals."

Perhaps only the "Saint" present could contend with that so-called "Child of the Sun."

"We shouldn't open this place to the emissaries of alien gods," someone said in the crowd, his voice not too low, "After their 'sunlight' shines in, they become more and more fearless."

"That 'Child' gives me a very bad feeling," another voice reached Richard's ears, "We cannot understand its mind and true intentions. Every time, we need a priest wearing a mask to act as a translator—no one knows how much more unsettling information is hidden behind those translations. When its eyes look at us… it doesn't look like a sentient being looking at other sentient beings at all."

"Those 'Sun remnants' give me the same feeling. I can't feel reason or emotion from them at all… In the end, they are monsters that were abandoned in the last era… They have already degenerated in the darkness…"

Low discussions began to spread in the hall, and emotions after suppression were rapidly resonating. However, at this moment, the Saint's voice suddenly rang out in everyone's mind, instantly interrupting the Annihilation cultists' conversation: "Silence."

The hall immediately fell silent.

"...I know your worries," the Saint's voice continued, with a power that comforted the heart, "But we need their power."

"Saint," an Annihilation cultist closest to the high platform said boldly, "That Child of the Sun, and those 'remnants'… do you think they will really keep their promises?"

The Saint was silent for a few seconds.

"I have never trusted the 'promises' of those alien beings, because they were born from the very beginning in broken oaths. But at least before they get what they want, they have no reason to break their word," he said slowly, "Just as they need us, we also need them—in the space-time woven by the Dream of the Nameless, those alien beings can only ally with us."

The questioning voices disappeared.

The chiming of the hour then rang out in a timely manner.

Clang—Clang—Clang—

The mechanical clock hanging on the high wall at the end of the assembly hall emitted a melodious chime.

"...End these topics. The time is near. The Dream of the Nameless is about to connect to the real dimension," the Saint's voice quickly attracted everyone's attention, "Prepare to enter the dream. Those who will enter the dream tonight, step forward, come up here, and prepare to touch the Skull of Dreams."

Standing in the middle of a group of black-robed figures, Richard quickly reacted. He looked up and saw that several other comrades were already walking towards the high platform, including Dumont, who had come to find him earlier in the day.

He hurried forward as well.

At the same time, several low-ranking cultists wearing gray robes entered the hall—they were pushing a cart made of special heavy alloy, engraved with many runes. The cart was covered with a blood-stained black cloth, and some kind of object seemed to be covered beneath the black cloth.

"Push the Skull of Dreams to the front of the high platform," the Saint ordered.

The low-ranking cultists pushed the cart to the platform in the center of the hall, and two of them grabbed the black cloth on the cart, preparing to lift it.

Richard swallowed unconsciously—although it was not the first time he had touched the "Skull of Dreams," he still couldn't help but feel a little nervous at this moment.

That eerie thing, every time you touched it, it would cause a soul-penetrating… terror, and no matter how many times you experienced it, it seemed that this terror could not be adapted to.

Steadfast faith and devout belief could only help him to make up his mind to touch that thing, but could not eliminate the impression left by the terror itself and the instinctive tension at this moment.

Then, two low-ranking cultists lifted the black cloth.

The "Skull of Dreams" on the cart also came into Richard's sight—

It was a black, wooden-carved… goat head.

(End of this chapter)