In an instant, silence fell over the entire gathering.
Lynn's shout had silenced even the countless interconnected voices of Night Doctors praying from all over.
Everyone stared blankly in Lynn's direction.
It was so quiet that a pin drop could have been heard.
Meanwhile, on the battlefield outside the consciousness space.
The God of Ten Thousand Machines' enormous head fought alongside the Psychic Giant that Sir Awen had become. His gaze was deep as he asked in a low voice:
"What's going on with that Magic Array? Is this your doing?!"
Panting, Sir Awen weathered the first powerful assault launched jointly by the three Origins and said:
"You don't need to worry about that. Three minutes at most. If my method works, that Fallen Angel will be forced off the battlefield in three minutes. If it fails, we'll have to prepare to retreat. The two of us are absolutely no match for them."
The God of Ten Thousand Machines narrowed his eyes, his gaze chilling, but asked no further questions.
He knew perfectly well that although the Plague Doctors and Night Doctors had irreconcilable differences, countless ties also connected them.
This was an internal matter for them.
Even if he asked, Cyber would never tell him.
"What are the odds?" the God of Ten Thousand Machines asked warily.
"Thirty percent," Sir Awen said gravely.
No.
He knew that even a fifty-percent chance was only the theoretical maximum. The actual odds of awakening the Matriarch would only be lower than they imagined.
Over the past thousand years, the evil consciousness within the Matriarch had long since grown even stronger.
Under these circumstances.
The chances of awakening the Matriarch's consciousness through the transmission of faith really were slim.
And what he had told Lynn was merely an attempt to try their