I became a god through archaeology in the Wizarding World.

In the apse of the Morning Star Cathedral, candlelight flickered in the draft, casting distorted shadows on the huge crucifixes on the walls.

A faint smell of blood permeated the air, a smell that even divine magic could not completely mask.

Krell knelt on one knee on the red carpet. His once-proud black plate armor was now covered in cracks, and there was a shocking fist mark in the center of his breastplate, deeply dented and almost touching his ribs.

He removed the half of the iron mask, revealing a pale face covered in cold sweat.

"It failed."

Krell's voice was hoarse, as if he had grit in his throat.

Bishop Cecil stood with his back to him in front of the huge stained-glass window, holding the golden scepter that symbolized power in his hand, without turning around.

"The reason," the bishop said calmly, his voice revealing neither joy nor anger.

"The intelligence was wrong." Krell took a deep breath, which aggravated his lung injury, causing him to cough twice. "That Rod Griffin is not some ordinary bloodline sorcerer, nor is he an opportunist relying on alchemical artifacts. He is a monster in human skin."

Krell's eyes twitched slightly as he recalled the scene in the alley.

"I used Judgment, activating the second-tier Punishment form. But he didn't use any spells, no shields, no evasion. He blocked the holy artifact's strike with his bare body... with just his arm."

Cecil turned around, and a flicker of emotion finally flashed in his deep-set eyes.

"Physical resistance against a sacred artifact?"

"Yes. His skin was harder than adamantite, and his strength was absurd. I felt like I wasn't fighting a human, but a miniature siege beast." Krell lowered his head, looking at his still slightly trembling hands. "If I hadn't used Radiant Blink to retreat in time, I would be a corpse by now."

Cecil remained silent.

He walked up to Krell, extended his hand, and a soft white light shone from his fingertips as he pressed it against Krell's breastplate.

The dented metal slowly recovered under the effect of the divine magic, and Krell's pale face regained some color.

"It seems we all underestimated this variable."

Cecil withdrew his hand, walked to the table beside him, and picked up a newly delivered intelligence briefing.

That's the latest investigative report on the luminous miracle in the lower city.

"Using force to eliminate him is no longer feasible." Cecil slammed the briefing on the table, his tone hardening. "Not only because of his exceptional strength, but also because he is now God's chosen one."

"That damn glowing potion..." Krell gritted his teeth. "The lowlifes in the city now treat him like a living saint. If we kill him now, it will only make him a martyr and incite an even bigger uprising."

"That's right. Killing is the simplest method, but now it's also the most foolish one."

Cecil walked to the window and looked towards the still brightly lit downtown area in the distance.

There, countless pale blue lights twinkled in the darkness, like a galaxy on earth; these were civilians who had drunk the potion, marching and praying.

This scene, which should belong to the Church's Candlemas, has now become a coronation ceremony for an alchemist.

"Since swords and blades aren't working, let's try another method."

Cecil's eyes gradually turned sinister: "He's a royal honorary scholar, a favorite of the academy. But he's also a nouveau riche with no real power. The higher his reputation in the lower city, the more the king will fear him. That old bastard Edward hates nothing more than someone taking away his power."

"You mean...?"

"Suspend all violent actions against Rhodes," Cecil ordered. "Inform the Inquisition to focus their efforts on gathering evidence of his heresy. For example... what exactly did he dig up in the underground ruins? What kind of deal did he make with the deceased Mortimer?"

Cecil turned to look at Krell: "Also, use our connections in the Council of Nobles. Since he made his fortune selling medicine, investigate his taxes, the source of his raw materials, and his production licenses. Use the rules to restrain him, and the law to crush him."

"But what about the common people..."

"Common people are forgetful," Cecil sneered. "Once Rhodes falls, once the miracle turns out to be a hoax, they'll want to tear him apart even more than we do. Go, recover from your injuries. This is no longer an assassination attempt; it's a hunt."

Krell put his mask back on, stood up, gave a standard knightly salute, and then retreated into the darkness.

The church was deathly silent again, with only the candlelight still flickering in the wind.

……

Black Oak Street, warehouses.

Rod pushed open the heavy wooden door, and a wave of heat, a mixture of the smells of herbs, alcohol, and the stench of gold coins, hit him.

Although it was late at night, the warehouse was still brightly lit, and dozens of hired workers were busy on the assembly line, packing and sealing bottles of light blue liquid.

Benjamin was standing by the second-floor railing, holding a long list of orders in his hand, his chubby face flushed with excitement.

Upon seeing Rod enter, the fat merchant immediately rolled down the stairs like a ball.

"Mr. Rhodes! You're finally back!"

Benjamin leaned closer to Rhodes, lowering his voice, his tone filled with barely suppressed elation: "It's exploded! It's completely exploded! Ever since those people started glowing, our orders haven't just doubled, they've increased tenfold! Now, not only merchants from the Lower City, but even those from the Middle City are secretly coming to buy. They say it not only prevents the plague, but also wards off evil spirits!"

Rod unbuttoned his somewhat tattered coat and tossed it casually onto a chair nearby.

He had already dealt with the marks on his body on the way back, and apart from looking a little tired, there was no sign that he had just gone through a life-or-death battle.

"As expected," Rhodes said calmly. "Do you have enough phosphorescent algae in stock?"

"Enough! Absolutely enough! I've swept up all the fluorescent algae I could find on the market." Benjamin rubbed his hands together. "At this rate, we'll be able to monopolize the low-end potion market in the entire capital in less than three days. And, those rare materials you listed earlier, some people are already willing to trade them for priority purchasing rights."

Rhodes nodded and walked to his desk to pour himself a glass of water.

This battle proved the strength of the [Immortal Body] and also gave him a clearer understanding of the current situation.

The church has temporarily retreated, but this does not mean it is safe.

On the contrary, the ensuing political infighting and covert investigations will be even more troublesome.

He needs more leverage and greater power.

"By the way, Mr. Rhodes."

Benjamin seemed to remember something, his smile faded, and his expression became somewhat serious: "Besides the good news, there's also...not so good news."

"Speak," Rod said, putting down his water glass.

"It's about raw materials." Benjamin pulled something wrapped in oilcloth from his pocket and placed it on the table. "You previously asked me to keep an eye on the downstream Blackwater River, especially the smuggling boats and the fishermen's catches."

"This evening, a daring fishing boat risked going to the edge of the open sea to fish in order to avoid the blockade. When they returned, they brought this back with them."

Benjamin carefully untied the oilcloth.

A strong, rotten smell of the sea instantly filled the air.

Wrapped in the oilcloth was a fish.

Or rather, it was a fish-like corpse.

It is about half a meter long, its body is covered with slippery dark green scales, its dorsal fin is as sharp as a knife, and its abdomen has two rows of small appendages that resemble human fingers.

But what's most chilling is its head.

That's not a fish head.

It was a distorted, swollen face with human features barely discernible.

Its eyes are huge and protruding, without eyelids, staring intently at the ceiling, its mouth slightly open, revealing fine, needle-like fangs inside.

"The fishermen said that when this thing was pulled up, it was still alive and made sounds like a baby crying." Benjamin shuddered. "They were terrified, thinking it was a water ghost, and they stabbed it to death with a harpoon. I felt something was off about it, so I bought it."

Rod's gaze froze on that person's face.

He reached out and his fingertips touched the cold, slippery scales.

hum.

Deep within my mind, the "Species Atlas," which had been dormant for some time, suddenly emitted a slight but clear vibration.

The book pages turned automatically and stopped on a blank page.

The dark lines flew across the surface, depicting the anatomical structure of the strange fish and its nauseating genetic sequence.

[Included Species: Deepdiver's Lair (Low-Tier Minion)]

Status: Dead

[Source: Deep-sea Mutants]

[Description: These are marine creatures mutated after being corrupted by the aura of ancient deep-sea gods, or terrestrial beings forcibly transformed by deep-sea explorers. They are scouts and cannon fodder for deep-sea civilizations, usually appearing in large groups.]

[Note: High concentrations of abyssal pollutants detected. The presence of this organism indicates that the expansion of the deep sea has reached near-shore areas.]

Rhodes withdrew his hand, his face turning grim.

Although Mortimer is dead, the signal he sent did not disappear with his death.

That signal was like a stone thrown into an abyss, creating ripples.

Now, the ripples have turned into waves, which have begun to lap against the shore.

"Where did you find this?" Rod asked.

"It's just a shallow beach near the estuary," Benjamin replied. "Less than twenty nautical miles from the capital's port."

Twenty nautical miles.

For deep-sea creatures, this is practically their doorstep.