Chapter 232
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Chapter 232: Title
A sudden rain began to fall, quenching the flames.
This event came to be revered as divine miracles, and the accused bound to the pyre was ultimately cleared of demonic suspicions through this "heavenly intervention," thus finding salvation.
Xu Li exhaled in relief, aware he’d imposed on Merlinka this time. He offered gratitude, "My thanks."
"Think nothing of it."
Merlinka’s tone turned urgent, "But we mustn’t tarry further—greater matters await."
"Understood." Xu Li inclined his head, matching her stride as they withdrew.
Their presence went entirely unnoticed from arrival to departure, as though they moved through the world as phantoms.
The pair moved toward a count’s mansion at the city’s heart, two black-robed figures escorting an elf through bustling streets until their forms dissolved into the distance.
Both Merlinka’s elven features and Xu Li’s Eastern countenance stood starkly conspicuous in this realm. Without concealment, their mere passage would draw unwanted eyes.
What truly vexed Xu Li beyond measure was some imbecile’s revelation that transformed demons bore black hair and eyes—a disclosure ensuring near-certain capture should his face be glimpsed.
One harrowing experience had taught him better than to test fate again.
As Xu Li’s group reached the noble estate, parallel events unfolded elsewhere.
Within the Outlets World stood a holy court erected by devotees of the God of Light.
At this very hour beneath its vaulted arches, a golden-haired youth with oceanic eyes betrayed subtle unease, the world’s pope standing deferentially behind him.
"Your Highness Hill," the pontiff extended a parchment, "tidings regarding the Divine Emergence site."
Hill emerged from contemplation with a practiced smile. "Your diligence is appreciated."
"Merely fulfilling a task given by God," the pope demurred. "Yet Your Highness should heed your vigor—your pallor concerns me this day."
Hill’s gaze fell upon the inscribed report detailing their sacred investigation.
"Beyond the seas…" he murmured.
"Indeed. Though our scope remains broad, fervent updates shall soon arrive."
Hill—Son of Blue Star’s Vatican City Holy Light Church—had assimilated seamlessly into this world as God of Light’s chosen. His mastery of potent divine spells first marked him as priest, then god-touched, until the local church crowned him their Son.
The irony of dual sainthood amused him privately, yet he never lost sight of his purpose. As he spread luminous doctrines, demonic traces emerged unexpectedly.
This world’s demonlore existed only in fragmented myths. Upon becoming Son, Hill had scoured archives finding only fabricated records—save millennia-old carvings on primal tablets.
The truth proved simpler: he wasn’t sole dimensional traveler. Demon-worshipers had inevitably sown their dark seeds here. Paradoxically, their chaos proved useful—as light and shadow spread, both deities gained footholds, twisting the world’s natural order.
Yet nothing prepared Hill for the revelation that the demon faction’s leader was his twin brother Loral.
Since hell’s forces claimed Loral, profound changes had taken root… A bitter smile touched Hill’s lips. Had his brother truly changed, or had he never truly known him?
Fortunately, both he and Loral shared the same purpose in this world. Though perceived as opposing forces of light and darkness by outsiders, their objectives fundamentally aligned.
Their tacit understanding hadn’t diminished despite separation – the first holy war stood as perfect testament to this.
No method disrupted civilizations more efficiently than war.
Hill glanced at the pontiff. The deities worshipped here were illusions – only elemental forces of nature held true power. Light, darkness, earth, water, wind, fire, space… all natural energies. Even the holy court’s revered gods proved fictitious.
Theocratic rule bound this world. Nobles and peasants alike worshipped nonexistent deities from cradle to grave. Without divine intervention, exploitation simply wore new vestments while civilization stagnated.
Discovering this millennia-old society remained trapped in medieval magic stagnation, Hill resolved to shatter its foundations.
Blue Star’s invasion might paradoxically liberate the lower class.
At least future generations would neither starve nor face enslavement by petty nobles over unpaid taxes.
"Expedite the search," Hill finally instructed the pope.
"I shall personally oversee the efforts," came the earnest reply.
Months prior, this pontiff had dismissed deities as tools for manipulating fools – an inevitable skepticism for one attaining his position.
Yet witnessing the Son’s arrival shattered his doubts. Such transcendent power could only manifest through true deity’s chosen vessel, bearing divine blessings.
The prophetic dream about expelling heretical invaders months earlier now found meaning – those spreading demonic beliefs perfectly fit the vision. Divine logic unfolded: first the prophecy, then the Son’s arrival to salvage their world against demonic forces.
(When World War approaches, world consciousness alerts powerful entities through visions.)
Hill recognized the pope’s dream as such warning, though misinterpreted. With Blue Star already experiencing similar phenomena, no explanation proved necessary.
"Ill trouble you no further, Your Highness." The pope bowed. "Matters demand my attention."
"May the God of Light’s gaze ever illuminate your path."
"And yours, Your Holiness." Hill inclined his head with a smile.
Departing, the pope glimpsed the Son amidst luminous blossoms – sacred and inviolable, divine salvation incarnate for their crisis.
Moments later, black mist coalesced among pale petals, solidifying into obsidian-clad youth. The figure’s left ear bore a peculiar snake-bite earring, his luxurious black robe shimmering with hidden constellations.
"Loral’s message." The youth tossed a sealed parchment. "I’ve no leisure for courier duties, mind you."
Unperturbed by the projectile, Hill retrieved it gracefully. "My gratitude, Lords of the Dead."
This was Battleground spectator-turned-unwilling Outlets world visitor – Satan himself.
The Lord of the Dead snorted. "Spare me future errands to your brother. Though…" His tone softened. "Those pastries last time… any remaining?"
Hill recalled entrusting snacks for his sibling, inadvertently sharing some with the underworld monarch.
"Should Your Majesty desire more, I’ll prepare provisions for your journey."
"Acceptable." Satan reclined midair. "I’ll endure this waiting period, then."
Unfolding the letter, Hill marveled at fate’s irony – never envisioning correspondence with death’s sovereign. Their initial encounter had startled him profoundly.
Later revelations explained everything: Loral, encountering the displaced Lord of the Dead in this realm, had forged unlikely friendship and enlisted his messenger services.
The taskers from Blue Star in the Outlets world found themselves divided between two factions: the Light and the Dark. Survival itself became precarious for those unaligned with either camp, let alone accomplishing their missions.
When Blue Star’s extraordinary individuals first discovered this reality, they treaded cautiously. Death in their homeworld meant either descending to hell or the realm of the dead – at worst, after drinking the oblivion soup, they could reincarnate as new heroes in eighteen years.
But this foreign realm held terrifying uncertainty – where would their souls wander if they perished here? The prospect of becoming eternal exiles in another world chilled them.
Clarity came with Satan’s arrival. Though this incarnation possessed less than a tenth of his True Form’s power, as Blue Star’s deity, the world’s natural order dictated that deceased extraordinary souls would manifest before the death-governing deity before dissolution.
The first soul’s sudden appearance left Satan utterly bewildered.
Of all things – even in another world, soul-collection duties pursued him? On Blue Star, such trivialities were handled by the realm of the dead’s God of Death.
Though rare for wandering souls to reach him, neglect meant their essence dispersing into the foreign cosmos. These were Blue Star’s children – he couldn’t let another world claim them. With resigned annoyance, he gathered the verified soul despite his scowl.
Hill finished reading the letter, made swift edits, and presented it to the deity.
"Might I trouble the Lords of the Dead for another errand?" His spring-breeze smile radiated courtesy. "Though before your departure, would you honor me with afternoon tea?"
Snatching the parchment, Satan snorted. "This lord permits your request."
Deep within a desert underground palace far removed from the holy court…
"Progress falters today." Loral murmured from his central throne, fingers idly tracing Hein’s ebony fur. The black cat remained motionless under his touch. "Hill’s doing, undoubtedly…"
Hein’s voice trembled slightly. "The first holy war concluded recently. Isn’t initiating the second too hasty?"
"Hasty?" The black-haired youth’s lips curved dangerously. "Three months we’ve lingered here. This game wearies me, Hein."
His nail grazed the feline’s spine, eliciting shivers. "So long as the finale satisfies, the interim matters not."
Hein’s fur stood electrified. Each holy war claimed hundreds of thousands, including thirty percent of this world’s magic-wielders. The first conflict already strained reality’s fabric – another so soon might shatter it entirely.
"Why so silent, Hein?" The youth’s melodic voice carried spectral menace.
"I…I was contemplating your inevitable victory over the Son of the Holy Light."
"Naturally." Loral’s fingers tightened possessively. "Between my brother and I, victory was decided when you chose me." The unspoken threat hung like execution steel. "Was it not?"
