The instant that power entered his body, Horace Loux felt as though his blood were about to boil!
Countless mad thoughts of creating wounds to gain power battered his will like a tide.
It felt as though countless tiny insects were wriggling beneath his skin, yearning to burst out.
This was a stairway to depravity steeped in blood.
But Horace Loux had come prepared.
His commandments worked at full throttle, frantically channeling the incoming energy, which contained the essence of an Outer God, toward another "foreign object" within his soul-the Gate of Myriad Laws!
The gate began to "devour."
Like a dried-out sponge meeting water, the Gate of Myriad Laws displayed an astonishing "appetite" for this Outer God's energy.
Before the "cursed blood" pouring into Horace Loux's body could truly contaminate his essence, the power of his commandments forcibly stripped it away and fed every last drop into that enormous gate.
The gate trembled faintly, and the light flowing across its surface seemed to brighten a little, but it was still a drop in the bucket compared with what was needed to activate [Forge Fate].
"Not enough... nowhere near enough!"
To an Outer God, this amount was probably no more than a little "treat" casually tossed his way.
He snapped his eyes open and stared straight at the shadow of the Formless Mother writhing delightedly within the blood vortex.
Then he did something that would have terrified anyone who knew the horror of the Outer Gods out of their wits-he reached back and drew the curved shortsword at his waist!
He raised the shortsword, pointed its tip straight at the shadow in the blood vortex, then viciously "stabbed" at it!
The shadow within the blood vortex churned violently!
The thought it transmitted instantly changed from pleasure to utter ecstasy?
Twisted pleasure surged toward him along with the torrent of cursed blood.
This time, the energy was no longer merely a "blessing." It also carried the pleasure produced when the Outer God's true body was "stung."
"Just what I wanted!" Horace Loux gritted his teeth and held on, feeling as though this torrent would wash his soul away.
He desperately kept his commandments running, directing this even more violent energy into the Gate of Myriad Laws as well!
The gate devoured faster, the light on its surface visibly brightening. Some incomprehensible patterns even began to emerge.
Horace Loux did not stop. Like a madman, he stabbed at the shadow in the blood vortex again and again.
Each "attack" elicited an even more violent response from the Formless Mother.
The shadow tumbled ceaselessly, its transmitted thoughts utterly chaotic, but the "pleasure" within them seemed to be increasing?
This Outer God's tastes were unusual indeed.
Rather than immediately raining down destruction after being "offended" and "hurt" like this by an insignificant mortal, she actually enjoyed it?
She even became more "excited" because of this direct, "bloody" interaction?
Horace Loux's attacks grew more frequent and more "forceful."
He was like a hunter who had found a unique way to provoke an enormous beast. Each "bloodletting" made the beast roar with mingled pain and pleasure and spill even more "blood."
Finally, after who knew how many "stabs," the Gate of Myriad Laws sent him a clear message: there was enough energy!
At the same time, the shadow of the Formless Mother within the blood vortex sent him an invitation clearer and more "formal" than any of her previous thoughts.
She seemed to be asking, or rather "encouraging," Horace Loux to become her representative in the Lands Between, just as Mohg would in the future.
This was the first time she had encountered a mortal so "compatible," so "bold," and so adept at pleasing her.
Horace Loux stopped "attacking."
He panted, sensing the faint, fragile connection established between his soul and the Formless Mother.
Become her representative?
He had no interest in becoming some Lord of Blood, but... there seemed to be no harm in accepting this "identity" for now.
This Outer God was famously "hands-off." As long as she was regularly provided with some "wounds," she generally would not interfere with her representative's specific actions.
That could instead provide him with a layer of cover, as well as a relatively reliable "sugar mommy."
He sent over a vague intention of "acceptance." At the same time, he asked the question he had prepared long ago:
"O formless Mother..." His thoughts traveled along the connection, carrying an inquisitive tone.
"There is something I do not understand and would like to ask. Does the 'pain' you cherish also include a unique, fleeting kind of pain?... The 'pain of losing one's virginity'?"
The shadow within the blood vortex visibly froze for an instant.
The thoughts sent back were filled with pure confusion?
The kind that fried a CPU.
Clearly, although this ancient Outer God was passionate about wounds and bleeding in every form, her focus seemed to lean more toward combat, injury, and punishment.
Horace Loux "patiently" "explained": it was a kind of suffering, and it came with bleeding too, so why could it not be something the Formless Mother cherished?
The Formless Mother's shadow writhed slowly, seemingly digesting this entirely new "concept."
After quite some time, a thought came back.
She "felt" that there was nothing wrong with this "pain of losing one's virginity" Horace Loux had proposed.
The blood that flowed was real, and that instant of pain was real. It seemed this pain of losing one's virginity was very precious.
The faintest hint of a smile curved Horace Loux's lips.
He had opened the door to a whole new world for this hands-off Outer God.
Horace Loux transmitted a "respectful" thought while beginning to actively weaken the ritual's power.
The shadow gradually faded, and the Formless Mother's "gaze" slowly receded, finally leaving a faint connection tinged with satisfaction and anticipation coiled around the edges of Horace Loux's soul.
The oppressive weight in the sky vanished, and that nauseating, sticky sensation receded with it.
All that remained was a slowly congealing pool of dark red blood at the center of the magic circle, the shamans collapsed all around it, barely restored to human form but on their last breaths, and the hornsent captives whose vitality had long since been drained away, leaving them withered corpses.
The ritual was over.
Horace Loux staggered, barely able to remain standing.
The exhaustion of both soul and body made his vision repeatedly go dark.
But he forced himself to steady his footing and looked into the distance.
Marika had already rushed over, heedless of everything, throwing herself toward her surviving fellow shamans. With tears in her eyes, she began trying to soothe and heal them with the feeble power of her golden incantations.
Hoarah Loux also strode over. Looking at the wreckage strewn across the ground and his younger brother's deathly pale face, he clapped him hard on the shoulder. "Good work, Hesa! It looked disgusting, but it seems you really did save some of them!"
Horace Loux managed a nod, too exhausted to say more.
The Formless Mother's behavior was the author's speculation. The author thought she was a masochist, though she might also be a sadist?
Still, her inclinations did not affect the main plot.
In any case, she craved wounds and blood, so she probably would not care whose they were, right?
Before you continue