Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

"Because of trust. Trust in my own power, trust in their power. My brothers will not fall so easily; they are monsters throughout human history, the leaders who launched that war of genocide and conquest. No one understands the power of the Holy Light better than I do."

"Soon, Lyle, you will understand, you will understand the power of angels."

"Because you are the person in this world who is closest to an angel."

He transformed into a wisp of mist, or perhaps vanished on a cloud; Galarón's presence disappeared, and Lyle felt himself become part of a group again. He sensed Nia at the door and eagerly pushed it open.

[We've been blocked.] The ominous sign was digesting Lyle's newly acquired knowledge.

[Your mental state is close to the late stages of brainwashing, or the end of psychological counseling.] The Deep Sea Omen retracted its tentacles, realizing its main body was unharmed, and returned to a languid state.

Ariana stepped into the room and, as Lyle nudged and rubbed her face against Nia, drew back the curtains, revealing a patterned ceramic bowl.

“We went to see Mr. Ralph. He was swamped with the recent panic in Narancia, but he looked fine. This is what he brought for you; he said it was a dish from his hometown.”

Lyle paused for a moment, took the bowl, and muttered, "Hometown food? His cooking skills are not as good as mine. At least I can make soup."

Looking into the bowl, calling it soup is somewhat of a compliment. The liquid, reflecting the color of the bowl, is as clear as water, with some overcooked spices floating in it, steaming hot. Despite this, the aroma is surprisingly nostalgic.

Lyle looked up at Ariana's beautiful, clear eyes, completely bewildered.

"Did Uncle Ralph say anything? Expressed his displeasure or warned me to remain frugal?" With only this one person coming back, Lyle couldn't help but suspect the wolf's intentions.

"I also brought honey cakes and baked apple pie that Aunt Violet prepared."

Lyle awaits a turning point.

Ariana patted Nia's head.

“But I also brought back Nia, and those baked rose cookies didn’t fill her up.”

“Nia and Lyle are one! If Nia eats, then Lyle eats!” Nia yelled, and slipped away from Lyle’s arms.

Lyle glared at her, then downed the water in his bowl. The aftertaste washed over him, and Lyle shrank back, sticking out his tongue.

"So salty!" Now he understood why the "hometown dish" had escaped Nia's lips. It used rock salt from Cassandale, and the gloomy weather back home gave these seasonings a fishy smell, so Lyle would only use a tiny amount, about the size of a sesame seed, at a time. He could imagine Ralph Bühler's lavish use of the seasoning; he was probably busy finishing up teasing Nia, and Lyle wouldn't die from it anyway.

Ariana handed him a glass of water, gently patted Lyle's back, and said comfortingly, "Uncle looks very handsome when he's making soup."

“He’s just handsome.” Lyle rinsed his mouth and added, “Not bad at all.”

Chapter 831 War Conference

The war against the Sleepers, convened in Andrei, began just a few days later. Allies of the Lich and the persecuted gathered together, with representatives from various factions occupying most of the courtyard. The round table seats were expanded by the scholar's expansion spell, and a viewing platform was set up next to it for accompanying personnel to rest.

The scholar glanced around the round table; most of the people there were his acquaintances. The dean sat next to the director of the Horror Theater and the vengeful spirit, while the forces of order and chaos sat on either side, clearly separated.

There are exceptions.

The scholar first looked at Femma Black Abyss, who was sitting in the demonic seat to his left, and then at Gorgalan Black Abyss, who was sitting in another seat with elves and dwarves.

"Princess Femma, does the Grand Duke of Black Abyss have any interesting suggestions?"

The legitimate Black Abyss Prince interrupted his sister's speech.

"My Lord, this is my personal will and does not represent the collective will of the Black Abyss Demon Clan."

"Oh?" All eyes were on Gao Jialan, and the scholars and dean were all smiling.

"Of course, the side of justice must have the Holy Light as an important force. Lord Remontos is not here. I invited Lord Lyrtos, but he declined. There is nothing I can do but temporarily take his place with the Hellfire Legion, which has been inspired by the Holy Light. That's right, a portion of the Abyss Demons, led by me, will fight for the Holy Light in the name of Lord Lyrtos and Lord Remontos!"

The demons, representing the Holy Light, went to war, and the various factions exchanged strange glances. Femma and Lyle, sitting in the audience of President Andrei, covered their faces almost simultaneously, the pitying looks around them tantamount to public execution.

Femma stared intently at the Blue Dragon Priest, her eyes burning with fury, clearly directed at someone she desperately wanted to distance herself from.

"This is also the will of the Grand Duke of Black Abyss, Lord Moroki. All actions of Gaugalan Black Abyss during the war are unrelated to the Black Abyss demons. The Black Abyss prince will support the battlefield as a servant army of other forces." The Black Abyss princess emphasized the word "prince," and this unusual demon, who usually preferred formal attire and spoke gently, rarely displayed the madness of a demon.

"Mom also said not to worry about his injuries or deaths. The hell plane will take back his failed soul. If the evil god has the ability to corrupt him, it's better for him to die outside and not come back."

The demons' rebellion and educational policies were quickly overshadowed, and the real crisis focused the attention of all races on the topic of defeating the evil god.

"Lord Morokui, we are aware of the danger posed by the evil god, and some of our allies share this sentiment. We all understand His power. Given this, some of our allies here do not actually possess the strength to confront the Creator. Is it necessary to force a weaker race to face the terror of a god?" The question came from a representative of the harpy race. She wasn't questioning the strength of the others, but rather acting out of self-preservation. Harpies were not a warlike race in the City of Wanderers; they were mostly engaged in logistics and transportation services like postal work. Now, forcibly summoned, this young leader constantly feared the annihilation of her race in the aftermath of the Sleeper's wrath.

The scholar glanced at her apologetically and explained calmly, “I understand your concerns. But fighting against an evil god is not actually as you imagine. Gods do not use strategies or tactics. Their attacks on us are more like an immune response, a mechanism.”

General Charles, standing behind the elf's seat, raised his head. The green dragon priest, Falgar, glanced at him sideways, and Charles lowered his head back down.

"The power of the planet's lord is constant. Whenever a power opposes it, a portion of it is diverted to target the adversary. The resistance is not as powerful as a raging torrent that destroys pebbles. The Creator possesses all the wisdom of all life, and the power He diverts will only be slightly more than yours. It is a battle of the weak against the weak, and the strong against the strong, so that all life may share the fate of being suppressed. Every participant can divert the power of the gods, no matter how weak they may be. Quantitative change leads to qualitative change, and it will be easier for us to subdue the sleeping being's true form."

"So, does that mean juveniles and individuals in their exhaustion stage can also be deployed to the battlefield to share the burden?" One of the liches who was listening in immediately started acting inhumanely, attempting to exploit the bug of the sleeping beings in front of other living beings.

"The prerequisite is the ability to survive alone in the Black Tide and trigger a divine immune response." The rampant Black Tide became the threshold for the divine war, eliminating the possibility of that proposal. Some forces breathed a sigh of relief, recalling the differences between themselves and the Chaos faction. Although they were sitting at the same round table, those destined to die still deserved to die.

“We have no further questions, Lord Morokui.”

"It sounds like the evil god isn't so scary after all; it's just a big guy who doesn't use his brain." Someone started to lighten the mood, and everyone knew the truth of their words. The holy light had been extinguished, whereas before it was the era of the holy light.

“It’s not that Triton is incapable of thinking, but rather that He understands us better than we understand ourselves. Our thorough understanding of us does not cause Him any sense of crisis, nor does it become an unstable variable.” The scholar glanced in a certain direction.

"Simply put, the Sleeper believes that solving our problems doesn't require His thought; it can be done by simply pushing through."

"Hmph, what an arrogant god!"

This established a belligerent tone; the next step was logistical issues such as equipment, medicine, and supplies.

"The Molten Dwarves, belonging to the Red Dragon Queen, can provide sturdy armor and weapons!"

“Arcanists can provide equipment enchantments that resist corruption, as well as various spell scrolls,” said the blue dragon Kristor, under Morokui’s encouraging gaze.

"Food supplies, fortification, medical treatment, and the restraint of the mentally ill." Falgar crossed his arms and gave a cold smile to the lich seats in the audience. Lyle shrank back, trembling. The once docile green dragon priest seemed to have become a different person, full of aggression.

"We can provide all sorts of magical potions!" the dean said slowly, and the friendly atmosphere of unity and cooperation instantly turned cold.

"There are other services as well." Noticing no change, the dean finished reading his prepared speech. He sat quietly for two seconds, expecting enthusiastic cheers, but reality left him somewhat displeased.

Are you questioning the professionalism of Andrea College?

“No offense intended, Your Excellency Dean,” a cannibal wizard said nervously.

"We just find it hard to accept your support. After all, what is a deadly poison to us is just a lich's mouthwash, right? Your potions haven't been tested on live animals, so it's hard to guarantee their safety."

"Nonsense, we clearly..." The indignant lich stood up, then sat back down, beginning to ponder whether the answer was yes or no, which was the optimal solution.

“Dear Dean, it’s alright. You can also provide the potion to special groups, such as vengeful spirits…”

The vengeful spirit immediately rose up.

"Don't be silly, the side effects of their medicine are also effective on spirits."

"Enough. The witch clan will provide potion support to all races, as long as you can accept the temporary side effect of growing fur." ​​The cat lady raised her head, glancing at the lich's audience seats, thinking, "Where's Avenrett? Isn't he the one who loves to join in the fun?"

The meeting continued, and Lyle listened to the noisy, market-like atmosphere around the round table, as well as the whispers of his companions.

"Discrimination, absolutely discrimination."

"They can accept temporary hair but not permanent hands. They must have a problem with us, right, Mr. Plague Doctor?"

Lyle tilted his head to the other side.

"Don't ask me, I don't need the medicine."

Chapter 832 The Dark Cult

What are you seeking from me...?

[The torment beyond death? That's quite interesting.]

[Why? I am neither tolerant nor stingy, the reason being the lich.]

[Deserved punishment? Hahaha, sinners don't suffer because of their sins.]

[I understand now, you are the "guilty ones," souls tormented by past mistakes, unable to find freedom.]

[You seek liberation, but why should I grant it to you? Indeed, I was once an angel, a high and mighty punisher; judging sin was my duty. But everything has changed. Look at me, what am I in your eyes?]

"Desperate emptiness."

Death has changed us all! Everything! Order has collapsed, dynasties have fallen! My mission was long over, so why should I take up a sword for you pathetic wretches? We are all lost. I saved you, but who will save me?

[Wait, I've got it! A brilliant idea!]

[We can help each other. Shut up! I have no interest in your foolish past. Cast aside your prejudices, and let us each get what we need. You stand before me because of your sins, and we have come together because of our mistakes. Now, sing aloud! Sing of our ill-fated relationship, and praise the wisdom refined from sorrow.]

[There should be a deal between us, the guilty party.]

Black wings unfurled in the night, their intersections forming hollows. His voice, like a raging storm, though shrouded in darkness, carried an uplifting divinity. The storm forced skeletons to their knees, and fallen angels obscured the moonlight.

Become my believer, my fellow countryman!

[I will bear your sins in my fallen state. Go and revel! From this moment on, in the name of the angel of judgment, I will pardon all your sins, and I will bear all the consequences. Entrust your struggling souls to me, and utterly abandon your withered consciences. I hereby declare you innocent; rise up and escape your prison like true villains!]

[You are released and become my jailers! In the name of George Edmont, I will bear the consequences of your sins. In return, you must also use your mutilated bodies to carry out the punishment of the Dark Angels.]

[After I fall, my legions will continue to carry out my judgment.]

[The contract is established; the guilty party bears the burden.]

[The Dark Cult is born at this moment!]

"Then the next day, because the name was too evil, Raymond came to their door and they were beaten up and forced to change the name of the gang. Dark boss, you died like a joke."

Unable to suppress a soft chuckle, the gentleman touched the corner of his mouth, recalling the first pleasure he experienced from his soul in the afterlife.

“Now, it’s time to pay the price.” Stepping outside the barrier of Andre Academy, into the vast, empty wasteland, his faded gown fluttered in the wind. He plucked the withered rose pinned to his chest and held it in his palm. Shadows were released from the petals, and the rose truly withered, transforming into a crystalline, shattered crown.

This is the last time.

Click!

The crown was crushed, and the explosive magic made the gentleman who was riding it grit his teeth.

"In the name of Avenrett! Rats! Open the Dark Portal!"

The gnawing creatures of darkness, the earliest messengers of plague, emerged from the gentleman's shadow. A chorus of squeaks devoured the soil, and the shifting shadows swallowed the desolation.

Raising its arm, the Rat King sentenced its clones to death. One after another, black rats with blood-red eyes screamed and exploded as they ran, the spilled blood and magic rising into the air, outlining a huge portal.

After a long while, a cathedral plummeted from the void, crashing into the shadows and whipping up a fierce wind across the wasteland. Beside Andrei Castle, the Cathedral of Holy Light shone with brilliance.

The priests and bishops emerged from the smoke and dust, and Pope Atlas, holding a holy light, looked at the gentleman who was bowing in greeting.