Am I going to be controlled by the players too?

Blood spurted out, splashing onto the black stone slab and flowing down the grooves.

As the children's bodies collapsed, still convulsing, the man in black robes dragged the corpses to the edge of the altar and pushed them into the smoldering pit.

The body fell, and it took a long time before a muffled thud was heard.

Another one was pushed up, another flash of a blade, another muffled thud.

One by one.

The torchlight shone on the faces of those kneeling people; some were crying, some had their eyes closed, and some had their mouths open as if trying to shout something, but no sound came out.

Finally, the last person was pushed into the pit.

The men in black robes stepped aside, then shouted in unison:

"Great Primordial Demon God, your loyal followers offer you a lamb! We beseech you to bestow miracles and return Obsidian's soul!"

The black smoke on the altar suddenly billowed up.

The smoke gathered thicker and thicker, swirling above the pit opening like an invisible hand stirring it.

Then, a jet-black goat emerged from the smoke.

The goat stood on the altar, its four legs trembling. It stood there for a moment, then suddenly its eyes lit up.

"Alas!" it exclaimed, raising its head. "I never imagined I was the Obsidian Bishop!"

Then, it laughed loudly, "Hahaha! I really didn't die! I will live on! As long as I live, there is a chance!"

No, you are already dead.

The messenger of natural disaster walked from the platform to the goat, grinned, pressed down on its forehead, and clenched his fingers so that his nails dug into its wool:

"The only thing in this world that can be perfectly resurrected is the 'Kingdom Resurrection Ritual' of the Theocracy. I merely borrowed your remnant soul from the primordial death. As soon as the magic supply is stopped, you will immediately turn back into an ordinary goat."

The goat's laughter was stuck in its throat.

It stared at the messenger of natural disaster, its yellow vertical pupils suddenly contracting: "Messenger? It's you!?"

"Of course it's me."

The messenger of calamity lowered his head, bringing his face close to the goat's, so close he could see the goat's reflection in its eyes. He opened his mouth—

He spat a mouthful of phlegm onto the goat's face.

"Obsidian, it's only been a few days, how come you've gotten so bloated..."

The Cataclysmic Messenger scoffed, showing none of the solemnity he had displayed during his earlier remembrance: "Our Primordial God Church only has three Gold Bishops. You had the best resources of Silvershine City, the cover of the Church of the Builders, and even the Son of War was bestowed upon you. In the end, you accomplished nothing and died so quickly!"

The obsidian goat's nose was trembling.

"I suspect there's a traitor! I've been tricked!" it roared. "I kept the Gun Demon a secret perfectly well, and the mission to distribute the guns went smoothly! But then Vilette and Karen came knocking on my door! I can't understand what happened!"

"What else could it be?"

The messenger of natural disasters straightened up, withdrew his hand from the goat's head, and wiped it on his clothes: "You're just a useless piece of trash."

"Keep swearing!"

The Obsidian Goat was so angry it was dizzy, its four legs trembling even more violently. Then it took a deep breath and began to comfort itself: "But I didn't accomplish nothing. I gave my body to the Gun Demon; it should have already stormed into the fifteenth floor and summoned the Daughter of Death, right? Then it wasn't a loss, it might even have made a profit!"

Its voice grew increasingly excited: "The entire kingdom's army has been destroyed, and the empire will surely seize the opportunity to annex the kingdom! When that happens, war will break out, and I will have accomplished a great feat! Victory!"

"No, you're still thinking about winning at a time like this... You're way too loyal, aren't you?"

“Of course!” Obsidian Goat puffed out his chest. “We, the Primal God Cult, are right! The Primal One will surely descend, and the silvery earth will split apart for thousands of miles. Boiling golden blood will flow like lava, legends will fall to the mortal world, and the gods will face twilight… Only we, the Primal God Cult, will always be winning!”

"But unfortunately, the quest to summon the Daughter of Death also failed," the Cataclysmic Messenger said with disdain. "That's what I'm also wondering about. I only gave you two tasks: to cultivate the Gun Demon and to summon Death. How come you couldn't even handle one of them?"

The goat's chest slumped down.

The messenger of natural disaster looked at it, its gaze shifting from calm to mockery, and from mockery to disgust.

"What can you do besides win? You're such a waste..."

“Silvershine City is such a wonderful place, a natural holy land for missionary work. Back then, the three of us fought tooth and nail to get the chance to go there to preach. You bullied me so badly back then... In the end, you got it, and I was banished to this small frontier town.”

His voice grew lower and colder:

"And this is how you managed to do it? Not only did you kill yourself, but you didn't even cultivate a single Gold-level subordinate, probably not even a handful of Silver-level ones, right? Hahahaha!"

"And look at me! I've already trained two new Gold-ranked subordinates, and over a dozen Silver-ranked ones! Let me tell you, running the Cult requires brains, strength, and strategy. Do you even have brains? Compared to me, you're nothing..."

His voice grew louder and louder, as if he wanted to vent all the anger he had been holding in for years.

The goat huddled on the altar, its four legs tucked together, its body trembling.

"You don't understand!" It suddenly raised its head. "Silver Glow City is right under the Emperor's nose, a city with three legendary figures in charge. I'm already doing well just to be able to develop! The key is to reduce our influence and develop secretly... If I can do that, I've already won!"

The messenger of natural disasters stopped laughing.

"As expected of a member of the Kingdom." He sneered. "Your Mahayana Winning Technique is... Alright, enough nonsense. In short, I'll do the tasks that Obsidian can't handle, and I'll lead the troops that Obsidian can't command!"

The goat opened its mouth.

It wanted to say that its troops were gone, its stronghold had been taken over by Vilette's daughters, and they had at least two gold-level soldiers, leaving it a lone commander.

But can it say that?

No!

Since it was already dead, how could it not be angry to be humiliated and mocked in front of its former colleagues?

If you say that your troops and strongholds have been captured, how can you save face?

On the contrary, they wish the messengers of natural disasters would just die already!

So Obsidian Goat took a deep breath:

"Alright, my soldiers and assets are at 13 Mink Street. Go and get them."

"That's acceptable."

The messenger of natural disaster patted the goat on the head as a reward. Then he turned and pointed to a person dressed in black robes beside him:

"crow."

The man stepped forward; he was short and thin, with his hood pulled low, revealing only a pointed chin.

“You, go to 13 Mink Street. Take over those assets—especially the ritual in the basement, and the remaining followers!”

"Yes!"

The crow accepted the order, turned around, and strode out of the main hall.

…………

The light of dusk filtered through the gaps in the clouds, casting a dark bronze hue on the number 13 Mink Street.

The crow stood on the steps and tapped three times.

The door opened a crack, revealing half a face: "Who are you?"

The crow didn't answer, but stepped inside.

The man behind the door crossed his arm across his chest, and his other hand reached out from behind the door, the dark muzzle of a gun pressed against Crow's back, piercing his spine through his robe.

"You've trespassed. If you go any further, we'll shoot you dead."

The crow stopped.

He stopped not because of the gun, but because he found it funny.

"I am the Raven of Misfortune, a servant of the Messenger of Calamity. I am the Gold Archbishop of the West Coast Branch of the Primordial God Church! And I only need to report to the Daedric Prince and gain his approval to become the new Gold Archbishop of the Primordial God Church."

As he spoke, he turned his head and glanced at the man behind him: "You, a mere religious follower, dare to point a gun at me?"

"Snapped!"

He slapped the gun barrel with his backhand, his palm hitting the barrel, which immediately bent at a ninety-degree angle.

The man behind the door trembled slightly, then tucked the gun into his waistband, touched his heels to the ground, and stood ramrod straight.

"I didn't expect you to be a leader from another branch. My apologies! What brings you here?"

The raven snorted and strode arrogantly through the door: "I heard your bishop died, so I've come to take over the Silvershine City diocese."

Huh? Our bishop is dead?

When? I was having lunch at the restaurant just now.

Luke, who was on duty at the gate today, was stunned for a moment.

Is this leader perhaps misled by false information? Why don't we introduce this out-of-town leader to His Holiness the Bishop first?

Thinking this, Luke took two steps back towards the hall: "Sir, please wait a moment. Let me introduce you to His Holiness the Bishop first."

The crow frowned.

Heh, it seems that after Obsidian died, his Silver subordinates proclaimed themselves bishops and seized the stronghold.

What a useless piece of trash... He can't even control his own subordinates!

The crow didn't care and followed Luke into the corridor, intending to teach this arrogant little silversmith a lesson.

The corridor was long, with candlesticks hanging on the walls on both sides. Luke's footsteps were ahead as he quickly and urgently pushed open the main hall door.

The crow stopped walking.

The once spacious hall was now swarming with a dense, endless stream of insects, ants, rats, cockroaches, centipedes, and maggots. A huge coffin was placed in the center of the hall, and the insects frantically rushed towards it, like receding tides finding an outlet, only to be devoured by the corpse inside. Countless worms surged and churned, resembling a pitch-black ocean.

"Holy crap, what is this all about?!"

The crow was startled.

Luke, used to this, pointed to the little elf girl squatting on the coffin lid next to the coffin: "Having lunch."

Lunch?

The crow pondered that while the Genshin Impact cult was indeed an evil cult, it couldn't possibly be a mental hospital, could it?

"Luke, what's this next to you...?"

The little elf girl sensed the crow's gaze, raised her head, revealing her delicate and adorable face, and at the same time picked up a mouse that was trying to escape and threw it into the coffin.

However, the crow took a half step back, its heel hitting the threshold.

A Gold-tier Necromancer!