A Tale of Forgotten Gods

Chapter 136: The Corrupted Priest.

Murphy stared at the shadowy body, which fell on the ground, and tilted his head slightly before walking forward toward the streetlamp.

His silent steps echoed throughout the silent street.

Thock.Thock.Thock.

With every step he went closer, the bigger the streetlamp became. By the time it stopped near it, the shadowy head was illuminated in a strange purple light before the flesh peeled off its face, leaving behind a skull, which then dropped on the ground.

Slowly, the whole body turned into bats, which flew away toward the bell tower. Leaving Murphy behind as he stared at the noose rope.

Keeping his unfazed expression, he turned toward the bell tower where a few iron cards rested.

A vast tower with a large central clock attached on the top. It had slowed down, ticking half a second later.

Murphy stepped forward, took the card, then opened the door without another word, where he finally saw what he didn’t anticipate.

The walls had the perfect circle with a star in the center; of course, they were behind it.

The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to stretch and distort in the flickering light of a lone gas lamp outside. The symbol on the wall—a perfect circle enclosing a vertical eye with a star at its pupil glinted.

Squeak!

The sharp sound of bats echoed through the empty bell tower. With a fluid motion, he tapped his temple as the world instantly shifted into spirit threads. The air inside the bell tower turned thicker with greyish-black fog of lingering malice, but right behind him, a human-shaped silhouette had manifested. Its spirit threads were chaotic and entirely black, dripping with crimson blood, and overlaid with deep purple streaks.

”An uninvited guest.” A raspy, dual-toned voice came from the darkness, sounding as if two people were speaking. ”A Proclaimed Detective.”

Murphy slowly turned toward it, his expression perfectly composed beneath the shadow of his fedora. His hand remained casually tucked inside his coat, fingers resting firmly against the handle of his revolver.

Standing by the spiral staircase was a man wearing a tattered, blood-stained priest’s robe. His eyes were wide open and sclera completely bloodshot as his lips twitched in a perpetual, manic grin. In his right hand, he held a heavy iron mallet, its surface crusted with dried brain matter and rust.

Murphy’s gaze lay on the ribbon on the man’s wrist.

An Ordinal Eight of Warden of Silence... the Chaos Listener. Murphy instantly noticed the unstable emotional state and the distinct spiritual radiation, which clearly his spirit threads were decaying. He’s on the verge of losing control, driven mad by the cosmic whispers.

”You shouldn’t have used my true name.” Murphy spoke, keeping his voice calm. ”Who gave you the list of names? The bell tower? Or the entity whispering in your ears?”

The mad priest tilted his head at an unnatural angle as his grin widened, tearing the flesh at the corners of his mouth. ”The Lord... The Lord hangs upon the tree of shadow! He sees the past, the present, and the future! He knows the soul that does not belong to this world, Mo Fei...”

Hearing his original name uttered once more by a lunatic in a world of steam and mysticism, Mo Fei screamed internally, but his face remained unreadable. That man must not leave this tower alive. Murphy’s gaze soon turned colder.

Without another word, the mad priest shrieked, which bypassed the physical ears and tore directly into the spirituality. Murphy’s brain bled as a sharp spike of pain ignited behind his eyes, as if a rusted nail were being driven into his brain.

The phantom sound of countless weeping voices flooded his mind, urging him to tear off his own skin, to hang himself from the highest beam.

”Argh!” Murphy groaned internally, biting the tip of his tongue to force himself to stay conscious. Using the sharp mind of Murphy, Mo Fei quickly analyzed the composition of the spiritual attack, identifying its frequency and weak points.

He lunged to the side just as the priest brought the heavy mallet down, shattering the floor where Murphy had stood before.

Mid-roll, Murphy drew his revolver, flicked his wrist, and fired two consecutive shots.

Bang! Bang!

The bullets tore through the damp air, leaving faint trails of purifying light. The first bullet struck the priest’s shoulder, exploding in a shower of holy sparks that caused the madman to howl in agony as his flesh began to boil. The second bullet was aimed precisely at his forehead, which was suddenly deflected by an invisible, slimy barrier of dark spirituality that manifested from the priest’s face.

”Flesh... Sacrifice!” the priest screamed, his body ballooning as thick, black tentacles began to erupt from beneath his skin, tearing his robes to shreds.

’He’s losing control entirely!’ Mo Fei’s pupils dilated as he realized the danger. A corrupted was far more unpredictable and dangerous than a sane one.

’Did he just say... flesh sacrifice?’ Murphy jumped back as he pondered. ’But his Authority is... not Curator of Flesh. Who drove him to madness?’

The slippery tentacles made of human flesh lunged at him. Murphy quickly backflipped, put his one hand on the ground, then pushed his whole body upward to jump toward the ceiling.

Bam!! Bam!! Bam! Bam!

He fired consecutive shots, but all of them pierced through the flesh of the tentacles as the sinister flesh reached toward his body, but before it could hit him and he could land on the ground, his revolver shifted back to his Glaive.

Slash!!

The sinister tentacle fell on the ground; just then he turned it to his guns and began shooting consecutive shots, each one piercing through the flesh.

BAM!

The final shot echoed as a soft smoke covered his eyes.

The corrupted Ascended launched his tentacle, but they caught nothing.

The wind shifted behind him as Murphy pressed the gun against the back of his head.

BAM!

The man’s body pushed forward as the slippery tentacle slammed Murphy’s guts, crashing him backward as his boot slid against the floor.

He looked ahead at the Ascended whose head had exploded, but it didn’t stop there, turning toward Murphy again as the blood poured from his forehead. His lips were torn apart as a long, wide one crossed over his face, making his eyes look more horrific as his hand rushed to pierce his fingers through them.

Crunch!

The wet crunch of eyes being pierced reached Murphy as he looked at the scene in front of him.

’No... what the f**k is that?’ Mo Fei’s mind told him to run, but it didn’t work.

Snap!

The ribbon on the man’s hand snapped and caught fire as it descended to the ground.

’How the f**k he can move after his ribbon is snapped...?’

Just then, he suddenly felt a hand tightening around his throat. He glanced down at his arm, which had begun to swell up and turn dark black, slowly reaching toward his heart.

’Is that what the Flesh Sacrifice does?’