Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 367 Blood Moon Stops the Burning: The Crown and the Sacrifice

“If God’s whispers go unheard, they become another kind of prayer.”

—From *The Blood Moon Ceremony Manuscript, Ninth Night, The Unfinished Ascendant*

Above the capital of Trelian, the blood moon beat slowly like a giant heart.

Suspended between the star map and the clouds, it weaves a tight web of fate with the whispers and wails of countless sacrificial souls as its threads, heavily oppressing the entire city below.

Inside the Cathedral of Our Lady, at the center of the Star Calamity Altar, the flames of high-level runes burned fiercely like a hellish furnace. At the heart of the array, Medusa was as if nailed to the core of the sacrificial array.

Her knees sank into the runic ravines, and the melting ground, like lava, locked her life runes deep within, forcing her to become the most tragic sacrifice of the entire ritual.

Life lines spread from her skin, like countless transparent tentacles struggling and trembling, trying to grasp any possible escape route.

However, countless dissipated life particles were suspended on each of the life lines. These particles were the sacrifices she had previously devoured and used.

Now, however, they are all looking back and beginning to demand the origin of her own life.

She was originally the mastermind behind the sacrificial array and the weaver of the destiny chart, but now, she can only watch helplessly as fate turns against her, and she is judged by the Star Calamity mechanism:

“If there is no place for sacrifice, then the one who offers the sacrifice is the land.”

External intelligence poured in like urgent tolling bells, so heavy it nearly shattered her reason:

The three sacrificial arrays of parish number three, seven, and nine were completely captured by Orion's personal guard.

The fifth high point has been completely destroyed by Edel's Rose Star Cannon bombardment.

Having lost its most fundamental source of power, the Cataclysm can only devour the priests themselves.

A complex look of madness and despair rose in Medusa's eyes. Blood began to seep from her right eye, and a burst of light escaped from her pupil like a shooting star.

The core of the star chart within her body emitted a groan like shattering glass, with cracks spreading outwards from it, as if fate had finally grown tired of her and decided to abandon her.

In my ear, the divine whispers transformed into an indescribable, chilling chuckle:
"Give me...more life..."

"You pride yourself on being the ruler under the gods, but now you can only offer yourself up."

Her skin gradually became transparent, and the life lines snaked and crawled beneath her bones like serpent shadows, eerily terrifying.

Deep within her pupils, the star chart was reflected as shattered, a clear reflection of her fate—utterly defeated and reduced to a complete loser.

Medici screamed and struggled, but no sound came out.

Suddenly, a terrifying and unreal vision appeared before her eyes: she was sitting high on a throne filled with thorns and flames.
Countless believers knelt all around her, their heads bowed, their lips chanting ancient and cold incantations, but no one dared to look up at her.

Flames rose from beneath her feet, gradually engulfing her body; the pain nearly annihilated her completely.

At that very moment, a gigantic hand, woven from blood and starlight, reached out from the blood moon and gently stroked her cold face, its voice low and mocking:
“You have never truly come close to godhood.”

"You are nothing more than the most pathetic pawn in the game of chess."

The clamor outside the hall seemed to have completely dissipated, leaving only the echoes of the Star Calamity Ritual, like ancient whispers, intertwined with fragments of prayer, despair, and faith, swirling around Medits's broken body.

She stood suspended in the center of the blazing runes, her skin almost transparent, her pupils reflecting the shattered fragments of the star map, yet she never lowered her proud head.

At that moment, a roar of psionic energy suddenly tore through the solidified space.

"Your Highness!"

A woman clad in a bright red bishop's robe stumbled into the altar. She was Herona—the Archbishop of the Church, the guardian of the Church's sacred code and destiny chart.

Her face was already cracked when she forcibly broke through the barrier, her psychic energy was burning, and she was on the verge of self-collapse.

Even so, she knelt before Medici without reservation, her forehead striking the scorching stone steps repeatedly, blood and tears mingling and falling like a prayer:
"Please end the ritual! You have already lost half of your life force; if you continue... even your memories and soul will be completely swallowed by the Blood Moon!"

Medici didn't look at her, nor did she respond. Instead, she slowly raised her head to look at the crimson star that was slowly spinning overhead—the very wheel of fate that she herself had set in motion.

However, at this moment, it was like a butcher's knife hanging over her head, slowly approaching her heart.

She parted her lips slightly, murmuring a whisper like a gradually emerging incantation, slow and cold:
“I… am not a believer.”

“I am the successor to the throne of God…”

These words seemed to ignite the last vestige of fear in Herona's heart. She kowtowed heavily again, her voice sharp and broken as she cried out:

"If you continue like this, even your divinity will be out of control!"

Medici lowered her head slightly, a cold arc forming at the corner of her lips, and uttered two words softly but firmly:
"Shut up."

Herona's voice was abruptly cut off by those two words. Shock and despair filled every inch of her pupils, and blood continued to gush from the wound on her forehead.

Her psychic body gradually cracked, yet she continued to cry out:
"No, Your Highness Medici! The Cataclysm is backfiring on you; this is the limit of your body! Your Destiny Chart has already begun to burn in reverse; you simply cannot survive until the moment your divinity is complete!"

In the church's scriptures, Medici is never recorded as a "human." She is the symbol of divine inheritance, the source and end of blood sacrifice, and the chosen one of destiny selected by the Star Calamity.

But at this moment, she is stepping towards the demise of mortals—the scorched earth between the divine throne and the mortal world.

Medici slowly fixed her gaze on Herona. At this moment, all human emotions had vanished from her eyes, leaving only the cold, indifferent movement of star patterns and that almost lifeless mechanical divinity.
"Herona".

"You are merely the bricks of my blood sacrifice, not the guides of my destiny."

Herona trembled violently, raising her head, her face soaked with tears.
But amidst trembling, he pulled out an ancient silver seal, a symbol of the authority of the highest council of elders, from his robes, his voice filled with both resolve and fear:
"I, in my capacity as the Cardinal Privy Councillor, request that an emergency vote of the Church's elders be initiated to immediately halt the Star Calamity ritual!"

These words struck like a thunderbolt at the heart of the Cataclysm—this was not a request at all, but the most thorough betrayal and coup within the Church.

Medici paused for a moment, then the cold smile on her lips spread into sarcasm and mockery.

The next instant, the destiny map in her palm suddenly ignited, and a star flame landed precisely on the elder's ring in Herona's hand like a shooting star.

A loud explosion.

The round seal shattered, and silver dust scattered and flew everywhere.

Herona's body was sent flying by the force of the impact, crashing heavily to the ground, blood spilling from her mouth. She struggled to lift her head, watching Medici approach her slowly but relentlessly, like a collapsing star map:

"You think you're saving me?"

"Or do you think I'm going to die right now?"

Medici descended the altar step by step, the blazing starlight spreading beneath her feet, the air distorted by the burning destiny map like a mirror in a dream:

"Do you think I don't know that this celestial catastrophe won't ultimately elevate me to godhood, but will only burn me into a demigod monster?"

"Of course I know."

Her tone was cold and steady, each word like a sharp, cursed blade cutting into Herona's soul, utterly shattering her will:
"But have you ever thought about why I still chose to embark on this path?"

"Because I know better than any of you that this world has no need for a merciful Mother Teresa."

"It only needs one mortal who is crazy enough and dares to climb to the throne of a god."

Even if all that remains at the summit is a pile of ashes and bones.

Herona, her face streaked with tears, screamed in despair and anguish:

"What should we do if you die?"

Upon hearing this, Medici's lips curled into a sorrowful, almost cruel smile. Looking at her former most loyal follower kneeling before her, she whispered:
“You were nothing to begin with.”

The reaction to the celestial calamity suddenly intensified, like an invisible audience greedily pounding on the stage in a theater of fate.

The resonance of the curse intensified, seemingly eager to engulf Medici's remaining "humanity" and "reason."

She tilted her head back, trying to swallow the blood welling up in her throat, but it ultimately gushed out silently. Her bones emitted a muffled cracking sound.
The excruciating pain of her broken finger bone traveled from her palm to the depths of her soul, but she remained standing, as if falling would mean utter defeat.

She whispered the next incantation—the key to the throne, and also the flame that would utterly destroy her humanity.

However, before the incantation was fully uttered, an indescribable and violent "destiny chart derailment" impact came from the depths of her soul, instantly shattering all her divine illusions.

Her pupils dilated sharply.

In the star chart, the star that had once resonated with her destiny and was connected to her bloodline suddenly dimmed, as if a distant yet familiar light had been extinguished.

She stood frozen in the center of the burning altar, and after a full three seconds, her lips trembled slightly as she uttered that word, sharp as a knife:

"Father."

The entire sky seemed to fall silent at the mention of her name. The trajectory of the blood moon suddenly lowered, as if silently echoing the fall of that kingly star.

Medici slowly sat down, the blood-red flames of the altar swirling around her. For the first time, she closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and remained silent.

The shock of the broken star chart was like a thunderclap falling from the sky, shattering all the barriers of confidence and pride she had built.

Father is dead.

The man she once revered and hated, the man she could neither ignore nor be indifferent to, silently left this world amidst the unspoken eye contact between them.

The already fragile bond deep within her soul snapped completely at that moment.

Medici knelt in the center of the burning starlight, her lips slightly parted, but no sound came out. She should have wept, but no tears fell.

Because when she was ten years old, she learned how to transform her tears into the most intense flames in her destiny chart.

Herona struggled to her feet beneath the altar. In that moment, for the first time, this devout cardinal removed the mask of faith, revealing a motherly expression of sorrow and compassion, and whispered tremblingly:
"he died……"

Do you still wish to ascend to godhood?

Medici did not respond.

Just then, hurried footsteps suddenly sounded outside the temple.

An officer in mysterious armor rushed into the hall, his hands stained with blood, the star patterns on them broken, as if he had just struggled back from hell.

He knelt prostrate beneath the altar, his voice shrill and sharp as a blade:

"Reporting to the High Priest—the royal palace is out of control, and His Majesty King Henrian VII... has passed away."

Before she finished speaking, the air froze as if in ice, and the starlight dimmed suddenly, as if the entire world was waiting for Medici's reaction.

The low murmur of the blood flames and the reverberation of the altar fell silent, as if bowing in homage to her sorrow.

Medici asked in a low voice:
"Who did it?"

The officer's lips trembled as if uttering an unspeakable taboo: "The suspect is the first heir... Prince Orion."

Medici slowly stood up. Her red robes were already scorched by starlight, and the shattered star patterns bloomed behind her like out-of-control divine wings.

She looked up at the blood moon in the dome, the crimson eye that had once dominated her soul, now silently watching over her, as if awaiting a judgment.

She suddenly chuckled, a laugh tinged with anger, mockery, resolve, and an undisguised sense of relief.

"The throne is vacant."

"And I am still alive."

Her gaze swept over the altar at her feet, the sacrificial fire, the kneeling believers and the loyal cardinals, and the ever-silent eye of God above her, as if confirming their presence and loyalty.

She whispered:

"I can rebuild the altar."

"But the crown can only be worn on one person's head in the end."

She stepped down the last step of the altar and slowly raised her head to look in the direction of the royal city. Her voice was calm and deep, yet as undeniable as a divine decree:
"Termination ceremony".

"Assemble the Holy Knights."

“I want to return to the royal palace—to take over the destiny chart left by my father.”

The blood-red flames on the altar had not yet died down, and the blood moon still hung high in the sky, but it no longer roared or demanded anything.

As if sensing that the ownership of power was about to change, it simply watched Medici silently—the sacrificer who was almost devoured by it, but ultimately broke free from its control.

Medici stepped down the last step of the star map and stood on the core node of the main sacrificial array.

The swirling flames illuminated her tattered red robe, her almost transparent skin, and her eyes, pale from the burning of divinity, almost devoid of any human trace.

She raised her hand, her voice calm yet sharp as a blade, each word like a divine pronouncement descended from the abyss:

"Seal off all auxiliary sacrificial arrays."

"Activate the reverse sacrifice structure."

"Using the destiny of four cardinals, reverse the Blood Moon Link."

Herona suddenly looked up, her face ashen, her voice filled with disbelief and terror:

"You want to... use our destiny charts as locks? To completely seal away the Star Calamity Ritual?"

The other three cardinals rushed over, and upon hearing this, their expressions changed drastically. One of the elders even trembled as he spoke:

"Your Highness, this will destroy the Church's centuries-long plan!"

Medici stared at them coldly, her expression utterly unmoved, as if she were gazing at a group of ants trapped in the mire of faith:

"If you still dream of God's kingdom, then wait until I sit on the throne and write a new script for you."

Upon hearing this, Herona knelt down in anguish, her hands clasped tightly together, tears streaming down her face, and she pleaded one last time:

"Please... if you still have a shred of the Virgin Mary in your heart... please don't do this."

Medici slowly approached her and knelt down before her. At that moment, for the first time, she reached out and gently placed her hand on Herona's forehead, her voice almost a whisper, yet as clear as an incantation etched into the soul:

"I don't believe in the Virgin Mary."

I only believe in the victor.

As soon as she finished speaking, she suddenly channeled the power of the Destiny Chart into Herona's brow!
In an instant, the fate diagrams of the four cardinals trembled violently, the runes were torn apart like threads, and the blood curse flowed wildly in four directions, merging into the main altar.

The array patterns began to reverse, the Star Calamity structure trembled violently, the blood moon projection suddenly shrank in the cursed wind, and the high priest's magic circle erupted with a deafening cracking sound—

The ceremony, which was abruptly terminated, instantly transformed into an out-of-control psionic storm that swept across the entire church!

Accompanied by the mournful cry of the star map tearing apart, a void appeared at the center of the blood moon, like an open black eye, silently staring at Medusa.

Before it dissipated, it whispered one last time:
"You could have been me..."

Medici gritted her teeth, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth, yet she responded coldly:
"I will become you eventually, but not now."

"Now, I want to become the queen first."

The blood moon shattered with a deafening roar, the cursed fire went out, and the entire main altar fell into a deathly silence.

Medici knelt on one knee on the altar, coughing violently. The light of her life runes dimmed rapidly, and the erosion of the star chart within her body had already reached its limit.

Her life seemed on the verge of being extinguished at any moment, but she continued to struggle, refusing to give up.

Herona collapsed to the side, tears still wet on her face, too weak to speak. She could only stare in shock at the woman who had just killed her own faith, yet could still stand up freely.

Medici slowly stood up, raised her hand and waved it, causing the tattered ritual robes to slide off on their own.

She took the cloak provided by the royal family from the side, fastened the epaulettes that represented royal power, wiped the bloodstains from her face, and tied her long hair back down.

At this moment, she was no longer the sacrificer burning on the altar, but the queen about to embark on the path to kingship.

She stared at the terrified clergyman before her, her tone cold and resolute, like a sword drawn from its sheath:
"Pass the order."

"The Holy Grace Knights will be reorganized immediately and I will personally lead them."

"Within three quarters of an hour, completely seal off the royal palace; within five quarters of an hour... capture the murderer who killed my father."

The moment she stepped out of the cathedral, the light of the Destiny Chart unfurled beneath her feet, driving invisible winds of magic to sweep in all directions.

The blood moon fell, divinity temporarily receded, and the shadow belonging to Medici slowly rose above the ground of the royal city.

The vacant throne awaits her return.

After the blood moon fell, the entire capital city seemed to awaken abruptly from a long nightmare, feeling the pulse of destiny again with confusion and fear.

The instant the star chart stopped trembling, countless amounts of stolen spiritual energy flowed back like a tide, the scattered runes returned to the body, and the tattered fate chart was revitalized.

The bloodshed and roars that had haunted the city all night finally coalesced into a whisper as heavy as death:

—"Henryan VII is dead."

Meanwhile, at the edge of the Thirteenth Quiet Island, a rift torn open by fate slowly revealed the hazy light of the outside world.

Si Ming staggered out of the prison boundary, covering the wound on his shoulder with one hand using his tattered robe, and covering his forehead with the other hand, squinting as he gazed at the blood moon that had vanished without a trace in the distant sky.

"The Blood Moon... has stopped?" His voice was low and tinged with a cold laugh.

Allison, holding his arm with a serious expression, said softly, "It didn't stop, she forcibly ended it."

Si Ming's lips curled into a cold, sharp smile:

"How could the disaster end so hastily?"

"It seems... she's decided to close the game and start afresh."

"But she didn't give up; she just moved to a bigger table."

He stood at the edge of the quiet island, gazing at the distant capital city torn apart by blood and flames, his eyes filled with an indescribable excitement and pressure:
"That man has finally left the stage..."

"Now, it's my turn to take over this script."

Far out at sea, where the aftershocks of the cursed tide had not yet subsided, the Destiny Map Perception System on the bridge of the Royal Rose restarted, and the rune projections flashed and updated rapidly.

Lieutenant David stared at the latest destiny map message with a shocked and complicated expression, then looked at Edel with hesitation:
"Your Highness... Has His Majesty... truly perished?"

Edel remained silent for a long time, his fingers lightly tracing the bridge railing, runes moving erratically between his fingertips. He gazed at the gradually quieting yet still perilous center of the royal capital, his eyes growing colder:

"What we are protecting is never any particular person."

"It is this land, and the people of this land."

He turned his head, his gaze calm and resolute, his voice as steady as a call to order:
"The entire ship is preparing to enter the northern wall of the royal city."

"Now that this chaos has begun, we will clean it up ourselves."

He paused, then gave the order again in a low voice:
"The military command map has been updated, adding both 'Orion' and 'Meddes' to the list of potential threats."

"From this moment on, bloodlines no longer have immunity."

Meanwhile, amidst the ruins of Broken Tower Street, beside the damaged Star Chart Monument, militiamen and soldiers were silently rebuilding defensive watchtowers.

With a solemn expression, Celian handed over a crystal-clear Dream Whisper Stone and whispered it to Liseria, who was standing next to the Azure Lion.

The message on the secret stone was extremely short, yet it seemed to contain the fate of the entire empire:
"The Royal Palace Star Chart has been completely extinguished."

"My father... has passed away."

Liseria gripped the stone shard tightly, remaining silent for a long time. She slowly walked to the cracked "Destiny Chart Stele" and gently stroked the ancient star patterns that were still clearly visible on its surface.

It was carved by his father when he was young, as a symbol to prove that the royal family had taught the people to recognize the charts and learn incantations.

She spoke softly, as if confiding in a king who had long since departed:

"In the end, you still didn't get to see the city truly return to peace."

She looked up and turned to look at the traffic lights on Pota Street gradually lighting up again and the crowds regrouping.

Those vibrant faces still glow faintly but firmly, and those fragmented yet tenaciously reconstructed destinies await someone to protect them.

She gently tightened the reins of the lion, her gaze piercing through the thick smoke and ruins, fixed on the distant, turbulent direction of the royal palace. Her voice was soft yet carried an undeniable resolve:
"From this moment on..."

"I will protect this city."

She took a step forward, and the faint light of the Destiny Chart meandered out beneath her feet, like a road that had been waiting for a long time, slowly unfolding before her.

"Royal power is never equivalent to destiny."
It merely acknowledges the first person willing to die for their cause.

—Quoted from "Fragments of the Papacy's Cataclysmic Events: The Blood Moon Finale: Commentary on the Ascension to the Throne"

(End of this chapter)