Myths Reawakened

Geocentrism Sect Headquarters, Enrod, four o’clock in the afternoon.

The followers and townspeople remained enthusiastic on the streets, singing and dancing in a celebratory mood. Free eggs were still being distributed. To ensure that everyone in town could enjoy free eggs and to prove that the Archbishop hadn’t just been making empty promises, the sect members drove trucks to make deliveries door to door.

They announced that at eight o’clock tonight, the Geocentrism Sect would hold a celebratory performance at their headquarters, and newly joined followers were invited to visit the Holy Gate.

The underground world existed, they said. The sect had found a passage leading to it, and it belonged to every devout follower, allowing everyone to worship the Lord of the Void up close and receive divine blessings. There would also be commemorative items personally blessed by the Archbishop to be given away, but there were only so many of them. First comers would be served first.

That was the original plan, anyway. With the Archbishop and the four Bishops suddenly leaving, the regular members didn’t have the authority to take charge. With no one leading the gathering, they could only invite the mayor and the officials to take turns giving speeches on stage.

Thump, thump!

A heartbeat-like rhythm echoed in everyone’s ears, faint yet clear. The regular townspeople didn’t notice anything unusual, and most followers of the Geocentrism Sect were oblivious, too. Only a few core members knew what it meant.

The Underground King had awakened!

They became visibly excited, but then the excitement gave way to confusion about why the plan had started early. They sought out the bishops for guidance, wandering around the gathering site like headless flies.

The mayor, who was giving a speech, also heard the sound. He clearly knew something, given the way the corners of his mouth quirked up. In an even more resonant and inspiring voice, he continued his speech.

Just then, a wisp of yellow dust drifted to the mayor. When he wondered what it was, an irresistible drowsiness struck him. He closed his eyes and fell asleep right there.

Yellow smoke was pouring from all directions, some from the garden and some from the fountain. A strong wind swept through, and the large trees at the gathering site rustled and shed swathes of yellow haze—they were pollen.

Wherever the yellow pollen reached, townspeople and followers felt drowsiness overtake them. They instinctively found a comfortable spot and lay down, falling asleep quickly.

The wind grew stronger, dispersing the pollen and expanding its reach until it shrouded the entire town. Outside of the five people dressed in the Geocentrism Sect’s uniform on the periphery of the crowd, everyone had fallen asleep.

The five figures came to the center of the courtyard. Clearing a spot, they used magical paint to draw a formation on the ground. They were all mages of the Church of Nature, from Palis, Franc.

Isabella had infiltrated the Geocentrism Sect’s nest and discovered crucial intelligence. It was such a valuable piece of information that Silvia would forgo the tradition of keeping the matter within Londan and ask outsiders for support.

Isabella contacted Silvia decisively. To avoid alerting their enemies, Silvia made an urgent request to Palis, arranging for five trusted mages to sneak into Enrod and ensure the success of Isabella’s mission. Their arrival lifted a great weight from her. They were responsible for protecting the townspeople, preventing the entire town from becoming food for the Lord of the Void.

The chicken farm, the Geocentrism Sect headquarters, and the town hall—the moment the Underground King called to its children, blue pillars of light rose from all three locations. Then the beam at the headquarters split into four, each pointing to one of the four buildings. They stretched in four directions, resonating with the pillars of light at the chicken farm and the town hall.

A hexagram took shape, projecting a magic formation hundreds of meters in the sky. A massive, incorporeal tentacle emerged, reaching down toward Enrod. It morphed into a concrete appendage the moment it made contact with the four elements in the air, slowly sinking while making calls pulsing with vitality.

It was a part of the Underground King’s body. It called to its other half in the underground abyss while calling for its children to awaken. Catastrophe was upon everyone. No one would escape being parasitized if nothing were done.

The five mages were veterans. They calmly drew their magical formation. Four of them each took a corner, with one standing in the center, countering the hexagram with a cross star.

Positioned right in the middle of the four buildings that anchored the summoning magic, the five mages’ cross star was able to counter the projected hexagram. Not only was the tentacle in the sky prevented from descending, but the Underground King was also prevented from becoming whole.

That blocked off the King’s call, keeping the eggs as eggs. The tens of millions of parasites remained in slumber, unable to hatch.

High in the sky, tentacles struggled and squirmed. Down in the abyss, tentacles were continuously burned by explosions, forced to sever their parts to survive.

The townspeople were safe if nothing went wrong.

At that moment, staggering sect members rose to their feet in their crude white robes, dragging their leadened feet toward the five mages. Their eyes were grey, and their neck bulged with dark green veins. Inside their mouths were moving tentacles, and they reached out unconsciously to grab something, anything.

The parasites within these followers had long awakened—they were Archbishop Ivor’s backup plan. If the plan proceeded smoothly, these loyal members of the sect would become the Lord of the Void’s food along with the townspeople. If not, then they would transform and launch suicide attacks on the troublemakers.

Getting closer, and then...

Boom!

The five mages paid them no attention. Before the followers could approach them, veins shot from the ground and dragged these unlucky souls underground. There was no saving them—a quick end would be a mercy to them.

There were around three hundred followers fooled into becoming suicide bombers by Archbishop Ivor. They were the first followers of the Lord of the Void and the most devout among them.

***

In the manor away from town, several black cars stopped at the front gate. Bishop Kent and Bishop Melville got out, circled by followers as they rang the doorbell.

Kent and Melville gazed past the tall iron gate and took in the impossibly luxurious mansion and vast lawn, unable to suppress their jealous grumbling about the rich bastards.

No wonder the Anointed One went astray. Look at the house and the garden. Anyone would forget about the path they should go down in this situation.

Even they, high-ranking members of the sect, were jealous; imagine how the followers were feeling.

They rang the doorbell a few times. The speaker behind the gate responded, “Master is out today and not receiving guests. Please make an appointment in advance if it’s something important. Trespassing on private property is prohibited. Please show respect and do not enter without permission.”

“Intruders should be prepared to pay with their lives. You only live once. Please cherish it.”

“This is not a warning!”

Veryl’s voice was put on repeat through the loudspeaker, delivering the harshest threat in the gentlest tone.

The two bishops exchanged glances. The Anointed One was resistant, and he seemed to have known in advance that they were coming, refusing to even see them. They were put in a difficult position. They didn’t want to offend the Anointed One, but they were even more terrified of disobeying the Lord of the Void. They had one of the followers climb over the gate in order to relay their message to the Anointed One.

“Please tell the Anointed One that we come with respect and have no intention of violating private pro—”

Bang!

The follower had just climbed to the top of the gate when a gunshot rang out. He fell to the ground without a word, a large gaping hole in his chest.

A drizzle started, leaving damp spots on their white robes. The two bishops’ eyes twitched, while the other followers blanched in shock, backing away for fear that they would be the next one ordered to climb the gate.

Anointed One, are you for real?

We’re on the same side!

While the two bishops shared the same thoughts once more and pondered if they should leave, a hexagram lit up in the sky above Enrod. A giant tentacle descended from above, threatening to raze the town to the ground.

“We can’t wait any longer,” Kent said through clenched teeth. “The ritual has begun. We must bring the Anointed One back now. If we don’t complete Master Void’s order, we’ll face punishment.”

Melville nodded, waving his hand to have everyone get in the cars and force their way into the manor, while he and Kent each took position behind the stone pillars flanking the iron gate to shield themselves.

Wait, aren’t you two leading the charge? The followers thought collectively. For a long time, none of them made a move.

“Bishop Kent, Bishop Melville, they’re armed—with a sniper rifle.”

So? It’s just a sniper rifle. With so many of you charging in together, they may not be able to kill all of you!

How can you serve the Lord of the Void if you’re afraid of death?

The two bishops couldn’t tolerate the followers’ hesitance. They chanted at the same time to make contact with the parasites in the followers’ bodies, transforming them into infected abominations to launch suicide attacks through the gate. With a loud thud, the gate creaked and collapsed. The impact interfered with the loudspeaker and turned the repeated voice choppy.

“You only live once. Please cherish it...”

“This...”

“Is not a warning!”