Chapter 87: The Sacrificed

Chapter 87: The Sacrificed

The figure that Mr. Door had formed from collapsed spheres of light froze in place, as though trapped in a fierce inner struggle.

The layers upon layers of doors within Him were only a hair’s breadth away from fully overlapping.

Amid the illusory rush of water, the crimson tide that could still barely squeeze through the cracks of the Door of Flesh surged with increasing ferocity. The blood-colored robe fell heavily once more, seeking again to envelop Bethel Abraham.

Yet as it descended, the brass-colored eyes around Him that had sprouted wings, the young man in flaming armor, the hazy veil of light with its chilling facial features, the earth that had opened its eyes and closed its mouth, and the shadowy woman all vanished at the same time—silently, soundlessly erased from this world.

In that instant, a blazing, dazzling sun appeared above the forest. Day replaced night, forcing all shadows to rapidly retreat.

The blood-colored robe was forced to rise again, scattering even more crimson moonlight and returning the incoming interferences one after another into the embrace of the Mother.

Seizing this opportunity, the light-and-shadow form of Mr. Door closed His slightly illusory eyes and lowered His head.

“All right…” He said with difficulty and pain, uttering His first words after returning to reality.

His figure solidified completely. Then He raised His right hand and brought it to His face.

The next second, Mr. Door lifted His head. Over His right eye was a monocle ground from crystal.

A flash of light erupted from that monocle, illuminating the entire world.

At that moment, every error that had caused seals to fail was corrected; every seemingly normal action developed errors; and every clock skipped forward by several seconds.

The Sequence 0 ritual of the Marauder pathway, Error, was:

To replace someone else during their apotheosis ritual!

And Mr. Door’s return seemed to have directly triggered His apotheosis ritual.

The light immediately receded. Mr. Door had become Amon, wearing a pointed soft hat and a classical black robe.

In the Blasphemer’s hand was a key forged from pure starlight, ancient in style.

Above Him, the blood-colored robe descended, intent on embracing Him within it. Behind Him, the crimson tide furiously squeezed through the remains of the Door of Flesh, trying to fully force its way into this world.

In that brief instant, blood-red moonlight flared, blocking the sun, the night, the earth, the hazy clear light, and the strange white tower outside.

Facing the corruption from an Outer Deity, the corners of Amon’s lips curved up slightly. He extended His right hand and drew from somewhere a mottled, exceedingly ancient stone slate.

The first Blasphemy Slate!

Then He plugged that slate, born from the Chaos Sea, into the remaining gap of the Door of Flesh. He used it as a substitute to receive the falling blood-colored robe.

The first Blasphemy Slate instantly turned illusory, as though connecting to a boundless sea that contained all colors and all possibilities.

That sea surged, swallowing the blood-colored robe and holding back the crimson tide from the cosmos.

The already-collapsed Door of Flesh withered rapidly and soon vanished. A furious, terrifying roar came through and echoed without end.

The next second, the red moon reappeared high in the sky and swiftly lost its color, turning bright and pure. Yet above that bright moon, there seemed to be a vast, twisted crimson figure.

Amon, in His pointed soft hat and classical black robe, adjusted the monocle over His right eye. He waved toward the crimson figure and the bright moon watching Him, then, still smiling, gave a slight bow to His surroundings.

…

Inside the Cathedral of Bones, where a giant cross stood erect and countless skulls watched with hollow “eyes,” Adam, dressed in a simple white robe, glanced at the lightning beyond the stained-glass windows, which showed no sign of stopping. He…