"Merciful Holy Father, bless us..."
Julia murmured, unable to hide her terror and not caring whether anyone heard her.
The thick fog formed by the foul, filthy poisonous gas still hung around the altar covered by a glass dome. She could barely make out the buildings below and the mutated corpses gradually emerging from the darkness.
She had never realized that the religion her father had joined was so fallen and terrifying.
Not long after her sister Esmeralda gave the order to enter the altar, the core cultists also began seeking cover, clearly having received the same instructions.
Only the low-ranking cultists and ordinary people had received no such message.
They had even been lured out by false information, dying in agony within "the Merciful Father's embrace."
Julia could not bear to look at the horrific scene. Clumps of gelatinous flesh clogged the sewers, half-human corpses protruded from within, their faces entirely melted away and their rotting bodies torn apart.
There were even thousands of people fused into reeking heaps of corpses, black, viscous sludge flowing through the gutters.
Those nauseating monsters crawled out from such pits of flesh and slaughtered every living thing they saw.
Beyond the human district, death had also swallowed vast stretches of Ork shanties. The once bustling slums now contained only blackened, broken wooden stakes, like countless charred skeletal arms thrusting out of a graveyard.
The land was steeped in decay, and the air was filled with the foul stench emanating from this ocean of corruption.
"Report."
A voice rang out. A gray-robed acolyte ran up the altar steps, followed by two others.
This altar had been built atop a church. The entire church had been completely sealed off, and its ventilation system had received special blessings, temporarily preventing those inside from being "embraced"—Julia's father