I became a god through archaeology in the Wizarding World.

Rhodes left the secret room and went to the coast.

The salty sea breeze, carrying the lingering smell of gunpowder, rushed towards us.

Soldiers are moving bodies and clearing rubble at the ruins of Plymouth Harbor.

The breakwater in the distance had broken, the seawater was murky, and a large number of mutated fish carcasses were floating on it.

A middle-aged officer in a dark blue military uniform strode over.

His left arm was slinged over his chest, his face was covered in dust, and the gold stars on his epaulets were somewhat dim.

"Sir Rhodes." Colonel Karl stopped three steps away from Rhodes, showing no disrespect despite Rhodes' youth. Instead, he bowed slightly, his tone filled with awe. "The casualty statistics are in. The garrison suffered over 60% casualties, and the port facilities were completely destroyed, but we held on."

Rhodes nodded, his gaze sweeping over the busy soldiers.

"What about that... ancient weapon?" Colonel Karl hesitated for a moment before asking the question everyone was concerned about. "Did it sink to the bottom of the sea? Do we need to send divers to salvage or repair it?"

Rhodes stared at Karl expressionlessly, his mind racing.

Titan has already self-destructed; this is his biggest trump card and currently his only deterrent.

If the outside world were to learn that Titan had been completely destroyed, the royal envoys, the Church's Inquisition, and the deep-sea believers lurking in the shadows would immediately pounce on them like sharks smelling blood.

"It has entered a dormant cycle." Rhodes' voice was calm and unwavering. "The battle just now overloaded the reactor, and the core temperature exceeded the critical value. To prevent a secondary explosion, I initiated a forced cooling program. It is now dormant in the silt beneath the seabed, and it will take at least three months to repair itself."

"Three months..." Colonel Karl breathed a sigh of relief. "As long as we're still alive, that's good. The envoy from the capital is already on his way, and the Iron Duke has also sent an urgent telegram inquiring about the specific battle situation."

"Tell them Plymouth is safe. The ancient weapons are on standby and ready to be activated at any time." Rhodes's heart rate didn't even change as he lied. "Also, blockade that area and designate it a military restricted zone. Any vessel that approaches without my permission, whether fishing boat or warship, will be sunk."

"Yes, sir." Colonel Karl stood at attention and saluted, then pointed to the east side of the dock. "Sir, there is one more thing. The black blood left by that giant whale is polluting the water source. Our purification array is not working, and several soldiers who have been in contact with the seawater have developed symptoms of skin ulceration and mental derangement."

Rod strode toward the dock: "I'll handle it."

The waters east of the pier had an unsettling, inky color.

The black liquid did not spread with the tide; instead, it gathered together as if it were alive, constantly churning and emitting a "sizzling" corrosive sound.

Several alchemists in protective suits were frantically pouring lime powder and holy water into the water, but the white powder turned black instantly upon contact with the black water, losing its effectiveness.

Rod walked to the shore and waved for the others to step back.

He took off the glove on his right hand, revealing pale, slender fingers.

If this black blood is not dealt with, the entire Plymouth underground water system will be contaminated, and the city will become a ghost town.

For him, who had just fused with the [Black Tide Blood], these highly toxic substances, enough to kill a first-ring wizard, were the best tonic.

Rod crouched down and dipped his index finger into the black seawater.

There was no excruciating pain as expected.

A cool, slippery sensation came from my fingertips, like touching a piece of melted grease.

Rhodes mobilized the spiritual energy within his body, stimulating the new blood flowing in his veins.

A suppressive force originating from a higher-ranking being was released through his fingers.

The black water on the sea surface suddenly stopped churning.

Immediately afterwards, the previously violent toxins seemed to be summoned by some force and began to converge madly towards Rhodes' fingers.

The black liquid swirled and compressed at Rhodes' fingertips, eventually condensing into a black crystal no bigger than a thumb.

The seawater became clear again, though it was still murky, but the deadly poison had disappeared.

Rhodes picked up the black crystal and examined it against the sunlight.

[High-concentration Kuroshio toxin crystals].

This is a top-tier material for making advanced poisons and corrosive bombs.

The alchemists and soldiers around them stared in disbelief at the scene; in their eyes, it was nothing short of a miracle.

Rhodes put his gloves back on, stood up, and put the crystal into his pocket.

"Clean up the remaining debris," Rhodes ordered. "Also, take the captured prisoner to the basement; I want to interrogate him myself."

……

Half an hour later, at the lowest level of Plymouth Prison.

This place was originally a water dungeon used to imprison serious criminals, but it has now been temporarily requisitioned by Rhodes.

In a dark and damp cell, a half-human, half-fish creature was chained to the wall with specially made steel shackles.

It has a human torso, but its skin is covered with bluish-black scales, its hands and feet are webbed, and there are several gill slits on its neck that are opening and closing.

These are deacons of the Deep Sea Church, a mid-level clergyman who transforms humans into Deep Ones through evil rituals.

It was stunned by the shockwave and washed ashore during the previous battle because it was far from the center of the explosion. It is currently the only high-value target that has survived.

Rod pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the prisoner.

Instead of using instruments of torture, he took out the lead box containing the fragments of the Titan's Heart from his pocket and placed it on his lap.

"Your master has escaped," Rhodes said, his voice echoing in the empty cell. "That Black Tide Whale had half its body blown off; it won't dare approach land for at least ten years."

The prisoner suddenly opened his eyes, his cloudy yellow pupils fixed on Rhodes, a hoarse roar escaping his throat: "Desecrator... Lord Whale Shepherd... will return... The Black Tide will engulf... everything..."

"The whale herder?" Rhodes caught the key phrase. "The person standing on the whale's back is called the whale herder?"

"He is the darling of the deep sea... the great... favored one of the four rings..." The captive's face was filled with fanaticism. "You are just a mortal relying on external things... when His Holiness the Bishop arrives... you will become... fish food..."

Rhodes was not angered by the other party's threat.

He stood up, walked to the prisoner, took off his gloves, and gently pressed his index finger, which had just been contaminated with poison, onto the prisoner's forehead.

"Look at me."

Rhodes' eyes instantly turned into vertical pupils, with a deep blue light flowing deep within them.

The mental control frequency of [Song of the Siren] was activated, and combined with the superior pressure brought by [Blood of the Black Tide], it instantly broke through the prisoners' mental defenses.

The prisoner's body trembled violently, and the fanaticism in his eyes quickly faded, replaced by deep fear.

In its perception, the aura of the human in front of it suddenly changed.

No longer a mortal who creates things with machines, but a deep-sea monster with human skin, even more ancient and terrifying than whale herders.

That was a suppression originating from the depths of one's bloodline.

"Answer my question." Rhodes' voice deepened and became magnetic. "Why did the Church of the Deep Sea attack Plymouth? Was it merely for slaughter?"

The prisoner's eyes glazed over, and his mouth opened uncontrollably: "No... it's for... the key..."

"What key?"

"The key to... opening... the sunken city... R'lyeh......" the prisoner stammered. "Your Excellency... sensed... the wavelengths of an ancient civilization... underground... those are... the coordinates... leading to... the abode of the gods..."

Rhodes' heart skipped a beat.

What they sensed was either the energy fluctuations when Titan was activated, or a signal from the deceased Mortimer.

"Who is the bishop? Where is he?"

"Pale...Bishop..." The prisoner's body began to convulse, the veins beneath his skin turning black. "He...is...waiting...on...the...edge...of...the Central Continent..."

Before he could finish speaking, the prisoner's eyeballs suddenly burst, and black, foul blood gushed out from his seven orifices.

Its brain has been put under a restriction.

It will immediately self-destruct once it reveals core information about the bishop.

Rhodes took a step back, avoiding the splattered blood.

Looking at the limp corpse in its shackles, Rhodes fell into deep thought.

Pale Bishop, Central Continent.

All the clues pointed to that place.

Although the underground Titan ruins are powerful, they are products of the mechanical civilization of the First Era, and are mortal enemies of the Deep Sea civilization.

The Deep Sea Church is clearly searching for something much older.

"We can't stay here any longer."

Rhodes walked out of his cell and went up the spiral staircase.

Titan is destroyed. Although he temporarily stabilized the situation with lies, the truth will eventually come out.

Once the royal mages or high-ranking priests of the church arrive and find the underground empty, he will transform from a hero into a fraudster.

Moreover, the Deep Sea Church's revenge will not stop.

This time it was the whale herder of the fourth ring; next time it might be that mysterious pale bishop.

With his current strength as a first-level senior cultivator and a second-level physical body, he simply cannot survive a collision of that level.

He needs time to process what he has gained, more systematic wizarding knowledge to advance to the second rank, and a broader platform to gather resources.

The resources here have been depleted; it's just a wasteland.

Rhodes returned to the ground; it was already noon.

The sunlight was blinding.

Benjamin's plump figure came into view; he was directing several horse-drawn carriages to transport boxes of supplies to the warehouse.

Upon seeing Rhodes, Benjamin immediately ran over, his face beaming with smiles: "Mr. Rhodes! As you instructed, all the glow algae and magic stones have been loaded onto the trucks. Also, I contacted a smuggling ship heading to the Central Continent through the black market; it's the White Gull. The captain owes me a favor."

"When will the ship arrive?" Rod asked.

"Two months from now," Benjamin said in a low voice, "they won't go into port; they'll stop for half an hour at the cliff on the east side."

Rhodes nodded.

"Destroy all data in the lab in one month, and dismantle any equipment that can't be taken away," Rhodes gave his final instructions. "Take only high-value raw materials and cash."

"What about... that honorary scholar and those titles? And the properties here?" Benjamin asked, somewhat reluctantly.

"Throw it away." Rhodes said without hesitation. "Identities are for the living; the dead don't need them."

He pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket, on which was drawn a complex alchemical array.

"If the kingdom can't hold out in a month, we'll leave here. I'll activate the lab's self-destruct system. We'll announce that it was a secondary explosion caused by the Black Tide toxin, or an assassination attempt by the Deep Sea Church."

"Rod Griffin will die in this explosion."

Rhodes gazed at the shimmering sea in the distance, his eyes cold.