"I actually have a suggestion for improving the current situation, gentlemen."
Chelori waited until he was certain he had drawn the attention of every listener.
Manson began to appreciate the man. He had chosen an exceptionally precise moment to voice his opinion, which was undoubtedly crucial in this game.
Then Chelori spoke in that quiet, gentle voice of his, as captivating as that of an orator.
"The Prince of the Ball."
For an instant, Manson felt as though he had been shoved back into his chair.
The Prince of the Ball, the Masked Dancer, the Dancer of Pleasure.
He was a man with many aliases. Rumor had it that he came from the Benedict Empire and had even once been connected to the Shadow Prince. Yet he had left the Benedict Empire for the New California Republic, where he established a vast and frenzied cult in an extremely short time, named—
Apocalypse Carnival.
It worshipped a dark deity known as the Lady of Pleasure.
Normally, such newly emerged cults would not attract the Blood-Worship Cult's attention. With apocalyptic doctrines becoming increasingly popular, there were simply too many cults like it to be worth mentioning.
Yet this cult possessed certain qualities that could not be ignored. Its frenzied doctrines were considered excessively heretical even by the Blood-Worship Cult, which was itself known for madness. They were so twisted that many bishops felt instinctive revulsion toward them.
But doctrine was clearly not the only thing sustaining a cult.
Apocalypse Carnival possessed a large number of dangerous, deranged swordsman assassins. Their swordsmanship was not only exceptionally skilled, but also impossible to predict, and the Blood-Worship Cult had suffered greatly during a series of probing encounters.
The Masked Dancer himself had once slaughtered everyone in a Kaimon church housing numerous Inquisitors and holy knights