Chapter 720: Open the Door

Chapter 720: Open the Door

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

“Start praying to your God,” came the ominous instruction.

Within the confines of its skeletal head, the brain of the being known as the “Saint” shuddered violently. A sense of imminent danger and profound fear surged through it at these words. The nature of this fear was elusive to the Saint, yet the premonition of a dark and grim fate weighed heavily on its mind, oppressive like a towering mountain.

In a frenzy, the Saint fought against its constraints. For a brief moment, its indomitable will shattered through the layers of magical binds placed within its body by the witch. The bone spurs that formed the edges of its skeletal prison began to crackle and shift. This brief rebellion against its bonds allowed its senses to sharpen, gradually regaining awareness of its surroundings. It recognized the distinct, sacred atmosphere of the Holy Island.

Upon this realization, a deep, overwhelming sense of despair engulfed its already disturbed and mutated consciousness, as enveloping as the onset of night.

“Holy Land!” it cried out, its brain pulsating and convulsing, the air around it quivering with its distress. “Holy Land! You have defiled this sacred place! You heretics... The Lord will mete out punishment to all of you. None shall escape His wrath!”

Duncan and Lucretia, however, observed the enraged “Saint” with detached expressions. After a moment of silence, Duncan raised his right hand, which held a flickering flame. The flame’s edges danced, and tendrils of fire fell to the ground, spreading towards a massive, foreboding stone door and creeping silently towards the Saint’s feet, beginning to scorch them.

“Firstly, your ‘Holy Land’ has already been desecrated, not by others, but by your own misguided followers. They have breached the ground, awakening the dormant flesh of ancient gods. They have ‘returned to the Nether Lord’ as they desired, in every sense of the phrase. Secondly, your Lord’s opinion on this matter is of no concern to me. However, I do have some matters to discuss with Him. So, start praying. This might be your only opportunity to truly commune with the ‘Nether Lord’ and share in His concerns. Personally, I think it might help you endure what’s to come.”

As Duncan spoke, a ghostly green fire of spirits began to climb the massive dark stone door. The flames, weaving into the door’s crevices, brought the stone to life with tremors and quakes. Another stream of fire caught the Saint’s skeletal limbs, gradually engulfing its entire form.

A soul-deep terror overcame the monstrous being. It struggled in vain as the witch’s magic effortlessly quashed every attempt at resistance. Helplessly, it watched the flames spread, but more harrowing than the physical agony was a different sensation – overwhelming despair, darker and more profound.

The being, known as the Saint, felt an inexplicable and profound connection forming with the dark, massive stone door before it. This connection was deeper and more enigmatic than any physical contact. It sensed its very essence—consciousness, memories, rationality, and all self-preserving elements—being transformed into information for the door.

In a trance-like state, a hollow, eerie voice resonated, accompanied by a strange, low buzzing sound. On the brink of its collapsing consciousness, the Saint felt a resurgence of its personality, seemingly rising from its distorted and mangled form. It experienced sensations it had long forsaken: the feeling of hands and feet, the act of breathing, the vibration of sound waves hitting its eardrums. These human experiences, once willingly abandoned, seemed to be returning as if in a surreal dream.

“Pray to your Lord...”

This command echoed within its consciousness, stirring confusion and bewilderment. A subconscious resistance surged, prompting the Saint to clench its teeth, attempting to defy the influence of the voice. Yet, the voice persisted, resonating everywhere, even within the depths of its own mind.

“Pray to your Lord...”

As it lifted its gaze in the enveloping darkness, the Saint beheld the imposing black door, standing like a symbol of both beginning and end. The surface of the door rippled, resembling a disturbed pool of water. In the shifting light, countless blurred and fragmented images appeared.

Memories of a past life flooded in. The Saint recalled studying in city-states, moving through crowded streets like any ordinary person. It remembered longing for countless things, only to feel engulfed by a greater emptiness upon achieving them. In moments of unrestrained indulgence, it realized the hollowness of its existence. During a blood-soaked epiphany, it saw its first victim—a small, lifeless body in a pool of blood, twitching its last. Then the last victim it saw—a mass of flesh, recognizable only by the eyes filled with fear and despair, mirroring a powerful, transcendent being.

“No,” Duncan replied, shaking his head. “Our mission isn’t combative; it’s to locate individuals and converse with the Nether Lord. Whether we bring an extra person or not is irrelevant. However, someone must remain here to guard this entrance.”

He paused thoughtfully before adding, “This rift will remain open for a considerable duration. Shadow demons will inevitably detect it, and entities will emerge from this doorway. That’s why I need you and Morris to stay and defend this location. And it’s not just about guarding this door; the entire Holy Island might experience upheaval due to this rift. You’ll need to inform Vanna, as well as the members of the Storm and Death Church. With this rift open, we can expect numerous ‘guests’ to emerge in this vicinity until the door is sealed again.”

His words carried a sense of urgency and caution, underscoring the importance of their roles in guarding the threshold. Duncan’s gaze lingered for a moment on the black door, reflecting the gravity of the situation and the potential dangers that lay in wait.

As Lucretia listened to her father Duncan’s meticulous plans, her expression grew more solemn. Understanding the gravity of the task at hand, she gave a slight nod in affirmation, “I understand. I and Mr. Morris will ensure this place is well-guarded.”

Duncan acknowledged her response with a nod, his demeanor reflecting the seriousness of the situation. Without further comment, he turned to Alice, the doll accompanying him.

“Hold on to me, and don’t let go halfway,” he whispered to her, his voice low and steady.

Alice responded with an immediate nod, her grip on Duncan’s arm firm and unwavering. However, her face broke into a smile, not one of apprehension or fear, but of genuine happiness. It was as if she wasn’t about to enter a realm fraught with danger but rather embarking on a delightful excursion with her captain.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Duncan, noticing the smile on Alice’s face as they stood before the pulsating black mirror-like surface, asked her gently.

With a bright, unworried smile, Alice replied, “Not afraid!”

“Good,” Duncan acknowledged with a nod. With no hesitation, he stepped through the black door with Alice in tow.

As they crossed the threshold, they were met with an unusual sensation. It was akin to passing through a layer of mist, ethereal and unobstructive, accompanied by a fleeting, cool breeze that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. This brief transition felt like traversing an infinitely long tunnel in just a blink of an eye—

Alice’s eyes widened in wonder. Clinging to the captain’s arm, she was greeted by an array of shimmering lights. But even more astonishing than these lights was the sensation that she “heard” something.

As they journeyed through the “tunnel” to the other side, a voice seemed to directly enter her mind—

“Identity verification, ¥#@¥&%&... passed;

“Identity verification, LH-03, Navigator Number Three, passed.”

This mysterious auditory experience seemed to acknowledge their presence and perhaps even their right to pass through this enigmatic portal, leading them into the unknown depths beyond the black door.