Necromancer, summoning 055? What the heck?

Chapter 483 God's Birthday Celebration: Slaughter in the Rain
The Twilight Tower's plan, like their ever-refined, stable, and meticulous Tower Master, is progressing rigorously and meticulously, like interlocking gears propelling the rhythm of an era forward.

Beria had meticulously planned every step of the scheme, and now, the moment of harvest had finally arrived.

Celebration of the birth of a god.

The birthday of a legendary great god.

In the Starry Continent, there are many gods, but if we don't mention their specific names, we usually refer to the one with the strongest divine power, the greatest influence, and the most believers—the true form of the Seven-Eyed God.

The celebration of the god's birth is to commemorate the return of this deity.

With his seven eyes, he returned in glory.

On this day, all the temples of the Seven-Eyed Gods on the Starry Continent hold various celebrations. The Great Temple has its own ceremonies, and the Small Temples have their own rituals.

In the Kingdom of Green Pine... at the border between the former Kingdom of Green Pine and the Kingdom of Mirror Lake, stands such a temple.

It is located at the foot of the Ironback Mountain Range, where, according to legend, a deity once appeared and left a footprint.

Because of this legend, this place became one of the most famous pilgrimage sites. Later, when the influence of the Misty Moon Divine Court extended to these two kingdoms, it was only natural that the Seven-Eyed Temple was erected here.

King Kruger XI himself never visited the site, but he sent court priests to inspect it. The priests returned and confidently asserted that the footprints were indeed those of a god.

Why are you so sure?

Because there was a clear hole in the sole of that footprint! Whose miracle could it be but the Seven-Eyed God, whose god is riddled with holes?
However, such so-called miracles are very common on the Starry Continent. There are headprints, handprints, and countless footprints. Therefore, this place can only be considered a medium-sized temple.

Every year on the festival day, many believers gather here.

There seem to be more this year than in previous years; pilgrims began gathering outside the valley before dawn.

The drizzle started in the early morning; it wasn't heavy, but it was persistent and dense, making the entire valley wet and muddy.

In this world where transportation is inconvenient, believers often have to travel from various places several days or even dozens of days in advance. The weather makes their journey more difficult, but for devout believers, these are all tests from God.

The teachings of the Seven-Eyed God state: The gods take away what you have in order to give you a better future.

Just bear with it and listen to the instructions!
Looking down from the mountain, the dark mass of heads looked like ants, slowly crawling along the road that had become a muddy mess.

Some drove small carts pulled by livestock, piled high with simple luggage and offerings; others carried bamboo baskets filled with a little food or their children; and many more dragged their feet, supporting the old and carrying the young, the elderly leaning on canes and the children tugging at their clothes, step by step toward the ancient temple deep in the valley.

The feet of those wearing straw sandals, or even barefoot, stomped down, making a "plop plop" sound, and the mud splattered up quickly covered their trouser legs or bare legs, leaving a patchy mess.

The farmers, craftsmen, and peddlers, dressed in tattered clothes, had a glint in their eyes—perhaps not the light of faith, but perhaps the light of hunger…

A few complaints and urgings could be heard from the crowd.

"Slow down, the child is going to fall!"

"We can't be slow! If we're any slower, we won't receive the blessings of the gods!"

"The temple is going to distribute grain this year! I heard they'll even give out big copper coins!"

"Distribute grain? How much? There are so many people, how much will we need?"

"Does the temple even care about these things?"

"Yes, yes, I heard that when the priests of the temple walk, honey flows down the path, and their sweat is like fine wine..."

"ill!"

I don't know when it started, but someone began singing hymns. The hoarse tunes carried through the rain and mist, and soon attracted more people to join in. Men and women, young and old, their voices varied, but they had a unique and moving quality.

This world is too bitter; they need some spiritual solace.

In the woods north of the temple, several pairs of eyes were quietly watching the bustling crowd.

In the rain and mist, a delicate wheelchair rests quietly on a protruding boulder.

The twin sisters stood to the side and slightly behind Belial, each holding an umbrella. Whether intentionally or unintentionally, the two umbrellas were tilted slightly, and the rainwater flowed down from both sides, rolling down Belial's head.

Fortunately, it seemed as if there was an invisible film above the Lord of Twilight's head, diverting the flowing rain to both sides. Just before the raindrops touched the strands of hair on his side, they were gently separated again, as if hitting an invisible slide, and dripped onto his shoulders.

Beria wore a moon-white robe today, with delicate and elegant patterns embroidered in silver thread on the collar, cuffs, shoulders, and chest. From a distance, the robe blended seamlessly with the garment, and only upon closer inspection could the differences be discerned.

The falling raindrops neither soaked through nor stayed on the clothes, sliding off quickly one by one, splashing Kruger's leg instead.

Kruger XI glanced down at his feet, sensing that the other party was doing it on purpose, but remained silent.

Although he was also a cultivator, he was of warrior origin, so he could only say that getting a little rained on was fine, but he couldn't do what the other person did—elegantly shield himself from the rain in the void.

His Majesty the former King of Green Pine was wrapped in a drab gray cloak, the hood pulled low, revealing only half of his gaunt face, with sunken eyes and puffy eye bags. Clearly, his days of "recuperation" in the Temple of Twilight had not restored much of his health.

After a long silence, Kruger broke it first.

"How many people are there below?"

Belial blinked: "Guess?"

Kruger remained silent. This guy was too cheeky; he didn't seem like the leader of such a large "evil force" at all.

Seeing that he wouldn't respond, Beria probably got a little bored, clicked his tongue softly, turned his head, revealed his signature bright smile, and took the initiative to announce the answer.

"At least 100,000 people."

Kruger's eyelid twitched.

This is not a densely populated area. It is more than 40 kilometers away from the nearest city, and more than 90 kilometers away from the border of Shuanglan. In previous years, it would be considered a grand occasion if there were 10,000 or 20,000 people on the birthday of the god.

Gathering a population of 100,000 is by no means a small number.

"Are they all believers?"

“Believers? No, no, no,” Belial’s voice was clear and melodious, with a hint of sarcasm. “There are only so many believers around here, and they’ve long been divided up by temples of all sizes. People from farther away have better and more respectable places of worship. Who would go through all that trouble to come to this wretched place?”

He paused, then gestured towards the crowded people with his lip.

"These are all people our allies went to great lengths to 'invite' us here!"

They called it an invitation, but it was actually a combination of coercion, enticement, and deception.

After finishing their prayers, many believers who didn't even go inside the temple waited in the large square in front of it.

Everyone has heard that after today's ceremony, food and money will be distributed here, according to the number of people's hairs!

Everyone's eagerly waiting.

Many of these people were likely subjects of Kluge XI, but the former king of Green Pine was not concerned with their fate, but rather with his own future.

"Making such a big fuss, aren't you afraid the news will leak out?"

Beria waved his hand casually.

"Those who know the inside story are all inside our Twilight Temple. They can't come out easily. Even if they do, they'll be accompanied by my people."

"Like you, now that I'm with you, you wouldn't knock me out and run off to tell on me, would you?"

Kruger didn't respond, and the Lord of Twilight pointed down the mountain again: "These guys in charge of carrying out the plan down there, all they know is to invite more believers to the God's Birthday celebration. As for the reason, of course, it's because their leader is very devout!"

"Even if the people from Hanhai are inside, what can they find out? At most, they can find out that some minor nobleman hired some disaster victims to curry favor with the temple, which is nothing unusual."

As for these people themselves—

Beria exhaled softly, the rain condensing into a thin white mist in front of him. He looked at the square with exceptional tenderness in his eyes and lowered his voice.

"A bunch of fools, what could they possibly know?"

"To be able to dedicate their humble lives to our great cause, that is probably... the greatest value they could create in their lives."

Kruger swallowed hard.

This seemingly young Lord of Twilight, no matter how gentle and refined he may seem, becomes clear after spending some time with him that he is a pure-blooded madman.

Kruger regretted asking the unnecessary question, but Belial, seemingly intrigued by Kruger's words, continued to launch into a long conversation.

After painstaking planning, when a great undertaking is about to succeed, I can't help but share my thoughts and experiences.

"Do you know that I personally went to Han Hai Territory three times and studied for more than half a year before finally choosing this day?"

"For these poor people, it doesn't matter whether it's God's birthday or not. As long as I give them money, I can gather people anytime!"

"The real reason for choosing the God's birthday is because today is the day when the defense of the Vast Ocean is most vulnerable to disaster!"

Kruger paused, momentarily confused: "Why...is this?"

Beria's lips involuntarily curled up, his smile filled with the smug satisfaction of a successful prank.

"Today, in the vast sea, the followers of the Seven-Eyed God will also go to various temples to participate in the celebration."

"That hypocritical lord, even though he doesn't believe in the Seven-Eyed God, deliberately allows Mist Moon to preach in his territory for the sake of the benefits given by the Divine Court."

"As a result, on each day of the Seven-Eyed God's celebration, believers must attend the celebration and receive divine grace." "Unbelievers must keep an eye on those attending the celebration to prevent them from causing trouble during the gathering!"

Beria slapped the armrest of his wheelchair, his expression one of pure elation.

"Look how wonderful, how absurd!"

"These hypocritical guys in Hanhai are using their left hand to hold onto their right. Which hand can they spare to care about me?"

After saying this, the Lord of Twilight raised his head high, and the protective barrier above his head silently opened, letting the fine rain splash on his face.

He slowly opened his arms, as if embracing the sky, and murmured in an extremely low voice, so low that even Kruger beside him could not hear:
"After dusk, the gods will depart!"

"Time is up!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The rain is still falling.

The rain came in bursts, sometimes heavy, sometimes light, sometimes a dense drizzle, sometimes just a faint drizzle.

A damp, warm scent filled the air, and a cool breeze surged from the depths of the valley. The heat from the crowds combined with the breeze and climbed up the hillside, forming a thin, flowing white mist at the mountainside.

The square was already packed with people.

The crowd was densely packed, shoulder to shoulder, making it difficult to even turn around. The cries of children, the shouts of women, the curses of men, and the shouts of some unknown person mingled into a cacophony of noise.

On the temple steps, a makeshift wooden platform had been erected, and several people dressed in priestly robes were busy at work. They brought over large baskets filled with sacks of grain, each sack with a string of copper coins hanging from its handle, numbering about ten.

The deacon in charge held the bags high so that everyone behind could see them clearly, and then slowly distributed them while shouting loudly.

"Line up! Line up, one at a time!"

"Anyone who tries to push can get out!"

Under the intimidation, the crowd formed a long, crooked line, jostling and pushing forward with difficulty.

Suddenly, streaks of dark blue magical light flashed without warning among the falling raindrops.

The light was beautiful and eerie, like fireworks bursting in a festival, instantly covering the tens of thousands of bewildered and expectant faces in the square.

The slaughter began.

This is ice magic from a mage. The rain that is everywhere in the air is forcibly pulled closer, gathered, and compressed by invisible spiritual energy, and then instantly solidified into fist-sized, sharply angled ice cones.

They roared down from the sky, some even spinning, like divine punishment, crashing heavily onto the dark mass of people.

Fighting professionals and slaughtering ordinary people are two completely different things.

Professionals are quick to react, resilient, and most wear armor, making high-temperature fire magic the preferred choice on the battlefield. However, for ordinary people with flesh and blood, even falling rocks can be fatal, making ice spike rain, which covers a larger area and consumes less energy, a better option.

In terms of attention to detail, Beria never disappoints.

A scream erupted in an instant.

The sound was filled with primal fear, pain, and despair. The crowd that was queuing just a second ago suddenly began to churn wildly, as if a red-hot iron rod had been thrust into an anthill.

People pushed, trampled, and tore at each other, trying to escape this death zone.

But Beria's arrangements gave them no chance.

In the center of the square, layers upon layers of people were crammed together and subjected to a magical baptism, being knocked to the ground in droves; on the outer perimeter were the Twilight Guards, armed with guns and swords, clad in dark blue light armor, their faces covered with black cloth, revealing only pairs of cold eyes, silently surrounding the square, mercilessly attacking anyone who tried to leave.

Where the cold light fell, blood splattered.

One by one, heads were split in two, red and white blood splattered all over the ground, and then flung everywhere by the still convulsing bodies.

The blood, like a fountain, shot up several meters high before cascading down, gathering into red streams on the ground of the square.

Blade flashes, blood mist, screams, cries, curses, pleas for mercy...

death!

Behind those ferocious Twilight Guards were some tall Twilight Overlords, whose task was to stop any potential professionals in the crowd.

Occasionally, a few figures would leap out of the crowd, attempting to break through and escape, only to be mercilessly intercepted and killed on the spot by the warlords and mages working together.

In this meticulously planned murder plot, no one could escape unscathed.

Kluge XI had fought many battles and witnessed countless deaths, but those were on the battlefield, in life-or-death struggles, in duels between warriors. The naked, one-sided slaughter before him still stirred a sense of unease within him.

He forced himself to look away from the bloody carnage below and turned to look at Beria.

The man was intently watching what was below, his face showing no reluctance, disgust, pleasure, or arrogance. Instead, he wore an expression of utter absorption, as if appreciating a grand symphony of art. His eyes were clear and bright, reflecting the shadows of swords, the crimson light of blood, and the glow of magic below.

Kruger couldn't help but ask, "You...do this...often...kill people?"

"Of course, I was only two years old when I killed someone for the first time!"

Kruger was stunned.

Beria seemed to enjoy his reaction, and his smile widened: "Just kidding, I couldn't even walk when I was two years old, how could I possibly kill someone?"

"Actually, I just enjoy watching them... clean up the filth in this world."

"gorgeous!"

"I can't do it myself. Look at my hands, they've never been stained with blood!"

Beria raised his fair, slender hands, the skin of which was almost transparent, and showed them to Kruger, then pointed downwards.

"Forget it, let's not talk about this anymore. You probably wouldn't believe me anyway!"

"The ceremony is almost over. Now, we'll need you to make a trip!"

When a group of people went down to the square, the massacre was nearing its end.

The once densely packed crowd is now reduced to a pile of corpses lying haphazardly on the ground. Some are completely stiff, while others are still twitching slightly. The Twilight Guards move among them, quickly finishing off the dead.

The blood stained the entire square a dark red, and the rain could not wash it away; instead, it spread the red even more, making it look like a huge, exposed scar under the gray sky.

A dozen or so men in black were already standing on the perimeter. They wore long black robes that covered their heads and toes, revealing only a pair of lifeless eyes. The bone staffs in their hands swayed slightly, drawing eerie arcs in the rain.

Beria tapped the wheelchair and gestured for it to proceed.

"It's your turn."

Kruger took a deep breath.

Behind him, Steward Etherion presented a bronze box about half a person's height. The box's surface was uneven and covered with relief patterns, making it look ancient and precious. As the side door of the box opened, the kingdom's most important artifact was revealed inside.

A seventh-tier teleportation altar.

Below the altar are several stone slabs of different sizes, their surfaces engraved with dense arrays of runes. These slabs must be placed in a strict order and guided by psionic energy along a single rune path in order to properly activate the teleportation altar.

This starting method is, of course, a closely guarded secret of Green Pine.

Belial waved his hand, and the Twilight Cultists turned away, consciously turning their backs to them. Etherion also erected a dazzling wall of light beside Kruger, blocking any prying eyes.

It's unclear what Kruger did, but when the light faded, all the runes on the stone slab were lit up, and the psionic light flowed from the base into the altar itself.

Meanwhile, on the periphery, the black-robed mages were about to complete their spellcasting. A huge vortex of blood and souls appeared in the air, and at the end of the vortex, a sharp tail slowly extended, pointing towards the deep spacetime gate in the center of the altar.

"Your Majesty, please."

Kruger took one last look at the corpses strewn across the square, then silently reached out and placed his hand on the joint of the altar's base.

He will complete the connection between the main and secondary altar seats.

The next second, Kruger XI suddenly opened his eyes wide and looked at Belial.

"The passenger seat isn't in Han Hai? Where did you put it?"

Beria raised a finger and brought it close to his lips.

"Shh, keep your voice down, don't disturb them!"

The "them" that the Lord of Twilight spoke of were naturally those surging, throbbing souls in the air, about to be filled into the altar.

"Don't be nervous!"

"The secondary seat of the altar is located in the Vast Ocean Territory, but not in Vast Ocean City."

"I moved it a little bit."

"Please believe me, that is a place where our great plan can be put to even greater use!"

(End of this chapter)