The Worst Batch of Newcomers

When Chains Father came to his senses again, the two heretics who had entered the Consciousness Space with them had already vanished!

The surroundings had also changed from a luxurious hall into a narrow corridor. At the end of the corridor, a middle-aged man was limping toward them with an axe in hand.

"Chains, something isn't right!"

Thorn glanced around. She had learned knowledge related to the Consciousness Space from the cult's scriptures. There should have been nothing here, only space shrouded in emptiness.

Yet now, not only had an entire building appeared within the Consciousness Space, there were also so many humans here.

The presence of the two heretics did not surprise Thorn, because they might have been the "keys" Mother had mentioned. But when Thorn looked at the middle-aged man at the end of the corridor... an indescribable terror quietly spread through her heart.

"Use the power the Lord bestowed upon us to destroy everything in the Consciousness Space. Isn't that what we came here to do?" Chains Father drew his wand and aimed it at the middle-aged man. "If this is a 'guard' within the Consciousness Space, it's rather laughable."

The man at the end of the corridor truly did not suit the title of "guard." He could not even be called a warrior. He was obese and vacant-eyed; even with an axe in hand, he might not have been a match for a lumberjack.

At least a lumberjack's hands had muscles. That middle-aged man could only be described as "fat."

Chains Father had once killed the strongest orc on the Frost Plains. That orc could have torn this man to pieces with his bare arms alone.

Just as Chains Father began chanting a spell, preparing to tear apart this frail "guard," he realized that his arm