When Ashe crawled out of the body bag, he found countless black-robed believers prostrated on the ground, chanting a hymn with feverish devotion. The familiar words nearly triggered his post-traumatic stress.

"Great Everlasting Doom, Serena Bright! The righteous follow thee, and the wicked adore thee. The light yearneth for thee, and the darkness likewise longeth for thee. Thou art an existence beyond all things, the colors wherewith God hath adorned creation."

Don't tell me this hymn is standardized worldwide?!

Harvey's resentful voice came from beside him. "I'm seriously starting to suspect we got dragged into this because of you, Ashe..."

A moment later, he gave a muffled groan. A black-robed cultist had stepped on his left arm and crushed it flat. The man had not used much force. Harvey's arm simply lacked a bone.

During last night's encounter with Gassas's sniper fire, everyone struggled. Ashe was forced to halt his escape. Ronna and Ronald covered each other, while Iger lost a large chunk of flesh that had yet to heal. Meanwhile, Harvey tossed a bone into the air. The bullet aimed at his body inexplicably veered off and struck the bone instead. At the time, he seemed the least troubled, as if physical harm could not touch him.

Yet during the long hours in the transport vehicle, Ashe noticed Harvey's left arm was nearly useless. He could not even lift it. It became clear to Ashe that Harvey had likely suffered the most severe injury among them. Iger could regrow flesh, but Harvey could not regenerate a missing bone.

The Necromancy Class likely possessed Miracles capable of restoring bone, but Harvey had been fitted with a collar the moment he passed through the Virtual Channel, leaving him no chance to replace it. It was like discovering there was no toilet paper and resorting to one's fingers, only to walk out and realize the water had been shut off.

Chains wielded by the black-robed figures slithered around the three of them like tentacles, hauling them upright.

Ashe finally took in his surroundings.

It was an underground hall he found disturbingly familiar. The cavern rose more than ten meters high and stretched across an area of two football fields. Dense hovering fireplates bathed the space in steady light, lending it an ancient yet luminous atmosphere. The walls were unnaturally smooth, covered in bizarre murals painted in vivid colors, depicting scenes such as lines of people awaiting slaughter, six pairs of men and women entwined in grotesque communal copulation, hundreds of figures slitting their throats to fill a pool with blood, and the rotting corpses of creatures from countless races.

By all reason, such brilliant colors paired with grotesque, taboo imagery should have repulsed any viewer. Yet after a single glance, Ashe felt neither disgust nor attraction. He regarded them as ordinary works of art.

"Don't look. They're toxic," Iger whispered.

Ashe snapped back to his senses. The moment he could accept this warped aesthetic or even regard it as normal art, he had already been contaminated.

Iger was the only one able to detect the change within himself. He possessed genuine aesthetic training, unlike Harvey and Ashe, whose lack of artistic sensibility confined them to admiring the shape of their own excrement after relieving themselves.

The chains tugged again, urging them forward. Ahead lay a narrow stone path stretching across a pool of water. In the pool, four statues rose on either side, depicting a valiant general, a refined middle-aged scholar, a kindly elder, and an innocent young girl.

They walked obediently along the path. Moments ago, the believers had been chanting, but now they fell silent and sank to their knees. Soon, the hall held nothing but the echo of their footsteps.

When they reached the towering silver-white throne, the chains jerked sharply, forcing them to kneel.

The figure seated upon it had its back turned. A sweet, girlish voice called out from the throne, "Are you the people from another land?"

The throne rotated smoothly, and Ashe and the others looked up, their expressions shifting to shock.

A small girl, seemingly no older than ten, sat on the throne. Her silver-white hair carried a streak of wine red, adding depth to its color. She wore an adorable black Gothic dress trimmed with white, like an exquisitely crafted doll.

She had neither hands nor feet, resembling a doll dressed before its limbs had been attached, placed on the throne as a mere ornament.

Two mechanical arms extended from the throne. The right held a steaming drink, while the left supported a thin comic book. She appeared to be enjoying afternoon tea while reading.

The kneeling black-robed figure said, "Yes, Everlasting Doom. The Book of Gospel has confirmed they are indeed outsiders."

The girl replied, "Thank you for your efforts. Bring the remaining offerings. The ritual will begin at once. The Four Pillars Deities are already impatient."

"Yes!"

Fervor swept through the underground hall. Even the hovering flames burned brighter.

Bound tightly in chains, Ashe and his companions could not struggle. Like fish laid upon a chopping block, they could only watch helplessly as the butcher sharpened his blade.

Harvey and Iger sent him the same urgent signal.

"Ashe!"

"Ashe..."

Ashe pulled a miserable face, fully aware that they had already pinned their hopes on him as their last lifeline. From their perspective, he was the leader of the Four Pillars Cult, and they happened to be caught in a gathering of the same cult. Surely, there couldn't be two different versions of the Four Pillars Deities.

It was like floodwaters crashing into the Dragon King's temple, or the Moonshadow failing to recognize its allied bloodline, the Blood Saints, and ended up digging up their grave.

Right now, the thought running through both Iger and Harvey's minds was probably: Why aren't you stepping forward to acknowledge your roots, to return in glory as the honored scholar of the Four Pillars branch, and rescue us? At worst, we could join the cult ourselves, commit a few unspeakable acts together, and survive. Everything else can wait.

No one understood his predicament better than Ashe himself. Heath might truly be some kind of cult leader, but he himself absolutely was not. The Four Pillars Deities might recognize him, but he did not recognize them. Everything he knew about the cult came from the news. The Heresy Court understood them far better than he did. He had never led a cult. not even a counterfeit one. At most, he could be considered an armchair cult leader.

He would have liked to establish rapport with the leaders here, but he did not even understand the doctrine or the key phrases. It was unlikely he could convince them he was one of them with nothing but words. Not everyone was as gullible as Freya.

There was another problem. Ashe might barely remember the moment he transmigrated, but he was certain the Blood Moon branch paled in comparison to this one in followers, base size, and sheer presence.

Even if they were branches of the same cult, there was no guarantee the Everlasting Doom would welcome a poor relative from the countryside. She might instead think, You claim to be a branch leader? Then we must treat you properly and unleash the full arsenal of torture devices simply for her amusement. That way, the Four Pillars Cult could show the deities that they had properly honored a fellow branch leader before sending him on his way.

Still, waiting passively for death would be foolish. Ashe drew a deep breath, lifted his head, and said, "Um... hello."

"Hello," the Everlasting Doom replied politely.

She lowered her gaze toward him. "What is it?"

Ashe decided to reveal his cult title. "I am the Watcher of Doomsday, Ashe Heath."

She glanced at Iger and Harvey. "I am the Everlasting Doom, Serena Bright. Will you be introducing yourselves as well?"

Ashe spoke cautiously. "No. What I mean is, I am also a believer of the Four Pillars Deities. I lead the Blood Moon Kingdom branch of the Four Pillars Cult. That is the foreign land we come from."

She seemed slightly surprised and studied him for a few moments. "Oh? Is that so? But you look like a good person."

Ashe's face flushed red with frustration. In everyone else's eyes, he was a heinous cult leader. He had explained hundreds of times that he was a good person, yet no one believed him. Now, just when he needed people to see him as evil, the cult leader thought he looked virtuous.

Damn it. Just give me a chance to survive. When being a cult leader is bad, they treat me like one. When being good is bad, they treat me like a good man. Even the boss wouldn't play such a double game!

He forced his voice to remain steady, "No. I really am the branch leader of the Four Pillars Cult. I am a bad man. The authorities accused me of kidnapping, murder, robbery, and other violent crimes. I received the maximum sentence and barely escaped. Blood Moon offered me no refuge, which is why I left and came here."

The Everlasting Doom tilted her head, a delicate, charming arc forming in her brows. "Then prove it to me."

"Prove it?"

From beneath her skirt, a mechanical arm flicked a dagger onto the ground before him. The chains binding Ashe vanished. The collar remained around his neck, but he could now move freely.

The Everlasting Doom said calmly, "I do not know what they mean to you, but if you are a favored servant of the Four Pillars Deities, then in your eyes, they should be offerings worthy of the gods. Inflict suffering upon them. Break them. Fill them with despair. Let them take pleasure in pain. But do not kill them.

"For you, this should be as simple as eating or dressing, shouldn't it, Watcher of Doomsday?"