Devouring World Dragon

Chapter 20 Offering a Sacrifice
Upon hearing this, the crowd erupted into commotion once more. Amidst countless whispers and murmurs, fear and unease about that terrible future were etched on everyone's faces.

The burly man at the head of the group was stunned. Although he lacked the wisdom to comprehend what kind of world they would face after the sun disappeared, the turmoil of the past few days was enough to make him realize how terrible the disappearance of the sun would be. But what if the sun disappeared forever...?

He couldn't imagine, nor did he dare to imagine.

"Then...we..."

He stammered, not even knowing what to say.

The prophet fell silent. The woman who usually seemed omniscient was now lost and helpless. But after a long period of contemplation, she seemed to have made a decision, and spoke in a low voice.

"Let's offer a sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?"

The prophet glanced at the burly man beside her, the leader of a nearby clan, whose face showed confusion and bewilderment. She spoke in a low voice.

“Let us offer sacrifices to this powerful being, with our cattle and sheep, with our slaves, with all our wealth, to beg for the mercy of this powerful being.”

The burly man pondered for a moment, then hesitated.

"Would this... allow that being to return the sun to us...?"

"do not know."

The prophet shook her head solemnly.

"But we have no other choice."

The burly man pondered for a long time, then nodded and bowed respectfully to the old woman. The other men and women followed suit, bowing to the old woman as well. Then the burly man stood up, pushed open the wooden door, and led the group away.

The prophet silently watched the crowd depart, and no one knew what she was thinking.

Only after everyone had completely disappeared from her sight did she raise her head, look at the bright moon hanging high in the night sky, and murmur to herself.

"Odin, what on earth has happened?"

……

The bright moon set, and the sun still hadn't risen. The whole world was plunged into deep darkness, and countless people were filled with sorrow and grief.

After enduring a long and agonizing darkness, the eighth moon finally rose.

Under the dim moonlight, a large number of adult men and women had gathered around the prophet's house. Many of them were leading their own cattle, and the mooing of the cattle rose and fell in the dead of night, never quiet for a moment, making it as lively as a market.

Meanwhile, the strong man, holding a battle axe passed down through generations, waited solemnly outside the prophet's house. Soon after, a creaking sound of wood rubbing together rang out.

"squeak……"

Pushing open the door, the prophetess looked at the many men and women standing outside, the cows they were leading, and the strong men waiting outside. She spoke in a somewhat hoarse voice.

"Are you all ready?"

"Ready."

The robust man said respectfully.

The prophet nodded, then walked past the strong man and went straight ahead, followed closely by a large group of men and women, including the strong man.

She stopped only when she reached an altar not far from the edge of the mountain village, and the people behind her also stopped, not daring to cross the line.

The prophet approached the altar. Under her gaze, the altar, made from a single, solid block of stone with only the top smoothed out for use as a container, seemed unremarkable. However, the dried, black bloodstains on the top of the altar seemed to be a warning that this altar was not ordinary.

The prophet took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, trying to suppress the slight unease deep in her heart. Then she raised her hand and waved it behind her, and several people had already led a bull forward.

"Moo~"

Several strong Northmen pinned the bull down and forcibly tied it to the altar. Sensing danger and unease, the bull struggled and cried out in pain. However, the strength of the Northmen was terrifying. No matter how hard the bull tried to struggle, it could not move at all in front of these Northmen and could only be tied to the altar, forced to expose its smooth and shiny belly fur.

The prophet placed her left hand on the bull's exposed belly, gently stroking it to soothe the panicked bull, while slowly drawing a finely crafted, gold-inlaid knife from her waist with her old, withered right hand.

"Zzz..."

Amidst the soft metallic clanging, under the moonlight, the exquisitely crafted, gold-inlaid knife reflected a faint, cold glint.

The prophetess muttered something in a broken and incomprehensible language while her thin left hand gently stroked the bull's belly, calming its panicked emotions. Meanwhile, the gold-inlaid knife in her right hand was already silently approaching the bull's heart.

The prophet's anatomical skills were extremely proficient. She had performed similar rituals countless times. She knew exactly how to accurately bypass those obstructive ribs and thin bones and strike a bull's heart directly. With just one easy blow, she could send the bull away from this world with minimal pain.

But unexpectedly... she didn't do that. Her movements stopped.

The bull lay on its side on the altar, its initial panicked struggles gradually subsiding under the soothing words of the prophet, completely unaware that its death was imminent.

The elderly prophetess gazed at the bull before her, her pupils filled with uncertainty.

Killing a bull is simple, but performing a proper sacrifice is difficult... and even dangerous.

In this era, all kinds of powerful monsters emerged one after another. In order to resist these monsters, the Norse people often adopted the method of sacrifice, offering sacrifices to the monsters. If the monsters were satisfied after consuming the offerings, they would no longer harass the village at will.

If you're lucky, some monsters might even become guardians of the village, protecting its safety until they die.

And this is often the duty of witches and prophets.

On the one hand, they communicate with gods and spirits, and on the other hand, they preside over sacrifices and appease monsters. Naturally, these women have a very high status. Even though they themselves have little combat power, they are still enough to make the clan leaders who control dozens of villages of all sizes within a dozen miles feel great awe towards them.

However, if the sacrifice fails and the monster is not satisfied, it often goes berserk. In this case, it is the clan leader and the warriors who must kill the monster together.

This sacrificial ceremony was undoubtedly extremely dangerous, and if it failed... the consequences would be unpredictable.

However, the absence of the sun, even for just a few days, was enough for the clan to feel its terrible consequences.

The cold, dark, and increasingly damp house, the wilderness becoming even more perilous under the cover of darkness...

If no action is taken, the clan will be finished. So, even if it means taking risks, the prophetess has no choice but to grit her teeth and keep going.

However, when the moment came, the intense pressure still made it hard for the experienced woman to breathe.

"How exactly should we perform the sacrificial ceremony..."

The prophet's gaze shifted uncertainly, and her hand, gripping the gold-inlaid dagger, hesitated.

……

"Moo~"

On the altar, the bull bellowed uneasily. After its initial panic, realizing it couldn't break free of its ropes, it gradually gave up resisting and calmed down somewhat. At that moment, under its bewildered gaze, the prophetess pressed her left hand against its belly fur, gripped her right hand tightly with a gleaming gold-inlaid knife, and began to chant something softly. Then, on her right wrist…

A sudden burst of power!

"Pfft!"

A tearing sound of leather suddenly rang out, and the bull's huge pupils were filled with fear. The intense pain from its abdomen made it struggle frantically.

"Moo!!!"

It bellowed wildly, its limbs struggling desperately, its body trembling violently. But the arm that usually seemed thin and withered was now as hard as steel, pressing down on the bull and rendering it unable to move an inch.

After the gilded knife was plunged into the bull's abdominal cavity, it did not stop, but began to violently try to cut open the bull's belly. The brutal method was nothing like the clean and decisive sacrificial methods of the past, in which the bull would stop moving after a few breaths after the knife was inserted into the heart. Instead, it seemed as if the bull was being deliberately made to feel intense pain and torment.

The sharp blade was plunged deep into the bull's body, forcefully slicing down from its chest cavity, gradually exposing the various fresh internal organs hidden beneath its soft fur. Even so, the bull, whose vital parts were deliberately avoided, did not die; its struggles were only rapidly weakening and disappearing.

After the entire abdomen was almost completely cut open, the bull was left with only a life barely clinging to life, exhaling less than inhaling, and the breath of life was gradually fading from the bull's clear, amber-like eyes.

At this moment, the prophet's chanting did not stop. She kept chanting something, placed the gold-inlaid knife in her right hand on the side of the altar, and then reached into the bull's body through its open belly.

Undoubtedly, this direct contact with the internal organs would cause the bull immense pain. However, at this moment, it was unable to mount any resistance. Only the slight tremor in its large pupils, which had not yet completely lost their vitality, showed that the bull was not entirely without feeling.

When the prophetess finally found what she wanted inside the bull, she simply and forcefully ripped it apart...

“Puff!!!”

Much more viscous blood than when a bull is gutted gushed out, splattering the prophet's body with bright red blood.

Only then did the bull's pupils freeze completely, becoming deathly still.

But the prophet didn't care about that. She didn't care about the blood on her body at all. Instead, she took her hands, which were covered in blood and fragments of internal organs, out of the bull's abdomen, then knelt before the altar and held up what she was holding to the sky.

Bathed in the moonlight, a still-beating heart was draped in a silvery hue, making it stand out conspicuously, with an indescribable air of wickedness.

The prophetess's face was solemn, and she continued chanting those strange and obscure words:

"Powerful and wise being, a lowly mortal offers you this sacrifice..."

(End of this chapter)