Our Family Has Fallen

A long series of nonsensical chants gave Lance a headache; it was hard to believe how Alhazred managed to remember it all.

He noticed that these religious fanatics loved to give their ”gods” all sorts of titles as if they were cheap trinkets.

If their god had fewer titles, they wouldn’t be pleased, as if they’d be looked down upon.

Finally, Alhazred finished reciting the lengthy passage, seemingly aware of Lance’s lack of interest, taking the time to summarize with one sentence.

”These people believe that their god existed before the origin of the world, possibly as the source of everything, hence they call it the Primeval God, but typically they dare not speak its name, abbreviating it to—Primal God.”

Listening to this, Lance felt off; so this world plays up abstractions, huh.

Primal God, isn’t that just a red herring?

Is that thing even trustworthy?

Now he understands why that ancient civilization disappeared—it makes sense.

”Let’s just call it ’Evil God’.” Lance was too lazy to research or discuss those zealots’ meaningless beliefs, shifting the topic to a more practical theme.

”What’s your take on the relationship between the Limping Walker and that Evil God worship?”

Faced with this question, Alhazred remained silent for several seconds before speaking.

”No relation really, but if one must say, it’s a sacrifice.”

Lance was taken aback by this statement—what kind of understanding is that?

However, he didn’t rush to question it, instead waiting for an explanation.

Alhazred sensed Lance’s curiosity, but given his thoughtfulness on this matter, he added:

”At that time, at the top of the Pyramid Temple, I completed the final test by killing the Limping Walker and absorbing its power.”

”What does that signify?” Lance genuinely couldn’t grasp these mystical insights; otherwise, he’d have dealt with Tamara’s mischief long ago.

”That sacrificial ceremony was orchestrated—the setup was complete. I was the offering, and so was the Limping Walker.”

This explanation led Lance to understand his logic somewhat; simply put, if the Limping Walker was arranged to appear at the ritual and could be killed, it shouldn’t be directly tied to the Evil God.

”We can’t say that for sure. Humans often use their kind in bizarre sacrificial rituals; those mad believers wouldn’t mind giving everything for their god, and similarly, we can kill those believers.”

This remark left Alhazred a bit perplexed, leading to silence on the scene.

”Currently, we have scarce information regarding the Limping Walker. Applying human ideologies to Void Demons is meaningless.”

Lance even chimed in to ease the awkwardness between them.

Yet the scholar’s theory indeed posed an interesting conjecture, leading Lance to newfound understanding of another matter.

Naturally, the Evil God targeting Alhazred probably had no connection to the ancestor.

The ancestor wielded the Power of Flesh and Blood, constantly aiming for the Flesh Ancient God.

And that tentacle symbolizing the Evil God was evidently different, not to mention the bizarre Dark Flame.

Regarding figures like the Limping Walker, and all those peculiar sorceries, rituals, evil objects, Lance tended to think they were linked to the ancient civilization wiped out long ago, utilized and studied by the ancestor from those evil relics.

Since the ancestor could fleece the Evil God, why couldn’t he?

Speaking of the Evil God, the ancestor was also one—not lacking an additional one.

His confidence rivaled even Alhazred’s youthful arrogance.

Realizing this, there was no more hesitating, he spoke up.

”I need all the records about that relic, it might help you break free from this predicament.”

Lance still cared about appearances, too reserved to outright demand his Gold Coins, instead tactfully revealing his intent.

But Alhazred didn’t immediately agree, falling silent.

He knew the terror of that thing more than anyone, even trusting the Lord’s power, but was aware some things shouldn’t appear in this world...

”No worries, go back and rest well.”

Lance wasn’t forcing him, his attitude surprisingly gentle.

Gold Coins can be explosively acquired later; coming to Hamlet, there’s no running away.

For now, Hamlet faces the primary conflict with the ancestor, and before defeating him, acquiring them leaves no time for deep study.

The scholar departed, and Lance lifted his hand, gazing at the Meteorite, murmuring.

”What are you really?”

And right at that moment, Wang Cai’s translucent figure smoothly manifested, and with one glance, Lance knew Hamlet wasn’t under attack.

Upon hearing Alhazred’s warning earlier, he indicated for Wang Cai to act—nothing suited rapid reconnaissance better than its traversal ability through the void.

Evidently, after a brief patrol, no combat was discovered, reinforcing Alhazred’s claim that a Corrupting Wind blew in from outside.

In front of Alhazred—or anyone, for that matter—Lance couldn’t display any sign of weariness or faltering.

For he was the core uniting everyone, the pillar standing against the spread of corruption.

Lance understood he had to stand firm—even if the pressure were overwhelming.

Yet before Wang Cai, he finally released his guise, slumping in his chair, exhaustion apparent on his face.

Wang Cai lost its flesh, yet still enjoyed nudging its head over playfully.

”Wang Cai, do you think Spirit Ascension has any prospect?”

Lance reached out, gently stroking Wang Cai’s spirit-bound form, unexpectedly voicing an unusual question.

The ancestor pursued ascension through Flesh and Blood; likewise, Spirit Ascension could transform humans into Wang Cai’s state, allowing survival within the void, breaking free from the cage (planet).

This radical notion retained a degree of feasibility.

Alhazred’s soul entering the void to find the Gate of the Golden Sands, accomplishing various acts therein, though under ritual protection, implied the human soul’s uniqueness.

Wang Cai’s existence further clarified survival methods post spirit conversion, capable of consuming Spiritual Essence, rendering fatal injuries obsolete.

Thoughts multiplied, becoming chaotic, deepening Lance’s apprehension toward the concept.

Beause herein lies a paradox.

That is...

The ancestor sought ascension through flesh, his followers concurred, but Lance opposed—he was not only opposed but rallied those dissenting individuals, deeming the ancestor an Evil God, aiming to eradicate him.

Bear in mind, the ancestor claimed humanity’s interests, leading them toward ascension.

Setting aside his dubious words, his logic was intact.

If Lance suddenly proclaimed the world a cesspool, urging everyone to escape before the Primordial God awakens everyone doomed.

Thus for humanity, let us Spirit Ascend collectively.

For those loyal to him, following his lead unconditionally was assured, leaving genuineness aside, akin to believers trusting the ancestor’s ascension promise.

Yet not all supported him, identifying dissenters upon his proclamation.

Progressing, he gathered opposition rallying against him, branding Lance as an Evil God, defending humanity by removing him.

Here, an embarrassing aspect emerged—a boomerang hit Lance in the head.

This wasn’t surprising; advocating humanity’s sudden Spirit Ascension mirrored the ancestor’s abstract flesh ascension.

Lance’s resolve was tested... madness flared!

Reflecting here, Lance couldn’t help but burst into laughter—becoming increasingly wanton.

”I declare—I am an idiot!”