You Know Nothing of Divine Power, Thousand Blades: Star-Splitting Slash

Borol stared at the strange, pitch-black blade piercing his chest and felt pain tear through his body.

Disbelief filled his face.

With effort, he turned toward Robson, whose face had twisted into a vicious grin. His voice was weak and bitter. "Robson, why did you..."

Squelch!

Before he could finish, Robson pulled out the black blade. Scarlet blood gushed from Borol's heart.

Borol's face turned deathly pale. He could not even manage a counterattack before he crumpled like a heap of rags, a lifeless corpse.

Thud!

"A mortal who thought he could control a god. Borol, your arrogance sealed your fate as a pawn abandoned by the divine. A discarded pawn should know his place, shouldn't he?"

Robson looked down at the mortal's corpse, his gaze ice-cold.

He calmly took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the blood from his fingertips, and dropped it over Borol's face. Then he turned and walked toward the hidden door behind the bookcase.

From there, he descended the spiral stone stairs toward the altar.

Tap. Tap.

His measured footsteps echoed through the passage, lending the place an almost indescribable sense of sanctity.

Yet beneath that strange echo, faint wails could be heard.

They sounded like the dying cries of living creatures. In the lamplight, Robson's shadow stretched across the wall, bristling with countless black tentacles like the creation of a true Evil God.

The entire space took on an uncanny air.

Boom. Boom.

Robson reached the altar hall at the bottom of the stairs.

The altar, once made to look sacred by the apostle's disguise, now revealed its true form. The elite mages of the Kascga Family who had helped conceal it lay piled upon it, their bodies twisted into unnatural shapes.

Black-glinting blood writhed across the altar as though alive, forming eerie runes