In the center of the underground hall, thick with the stench of rotting flesh, Mr. A stood in a hooded robe, his delicate, handsome face alight with fervor and madness as he gazed at the altar before him.
Thump! Thump...
The attendants standing behind Mr. A fell one after another. Under the guidance of Flesh Magic, the flesh on their bodies flowed toward the altar like liquid, becoming one of its many sacrifices.
Only a few shriveled corpses remained on the ground, their bones wrapped in what looked like dried-out skin.
"Give your lives for the descent of our Lord!"
As he cried out fervently, layers of illusory weeping rang through the underground hall. Someone called for their mother; someone coughed violently; someone groaned in pain; someone cursed in despair...
Countless transparent Spirit Bodies, filled with pain and carrying resentment and regret, converged into a mighty, illusory river that surged out of the void.
The numbness, despair, pain, and hatred that had accumulated in Backlund over many years were stirred as well, joining that illusory river as it flowed toward the altar, becoming one of the indispensable sacrifices in the ritual.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunshots suddenly rang out behind Mr. A. Pale yellow, golden, and silver-white bullets shot out one after another, tearing through the air toward the altar.
The bullets struck the faint layer of light surrounding the altar, a barrier that somehow seemed impossible to shake. They slowly melted away and vanished.
The Beyonder bullets, which had effects such as Purification and dispelling magic, disappeared without leaving the slightest trace.
In a corner of the underground hall, Klein's pupils contracted as he held up his revolver.
He took a deep breath and steadied himself, then kept pulling the trigger, firing every remaining bullet in the revolver.
They disintegrated