Inside the dim underground palace, pillars of light laced with flame hammered down ceaselessly. The profound darkness melted away like fresh snow meeting sunlight. Strange, writhing worms stiffened and turned to stone while eerie shadows shrieked in agony.
A faint light flashed past, and the priests who had been floating in midair suddenly plummeted downward, as though invisible hands had seized their ankles and yanked them down. The defensive layers on their bodies proved utterly useless, and the vast majority of their dark arts sputtered to a halt.
Before they could even react, the imposing blond middle-aged man before them extended his right hand, spreading all five fingers wide. On each fingertip, a small eye protruded, while a massive brownish-yellow eye—streaked with bloodstains—emerged from his palm.
The five small, grotesque eyes glowed in different colors, each firing a distinct ray. The massive brownish-yellow eye, however, pulsed with a spectral light that pressed down on everyone, making them feel as though gravity in this place had suddenly multiplied.
Rays of eerie green, pale blue, and other hues struck the black-robed priests, slowing some, paralyzing others, petrifying a few, and reducing several more to shimmering motes of light. In an instant, the formidable enemies that the priests, bishops, Holy Knights, and ordinary Night Watch members had been powerless to overcome were utterly suppressed—victory was within reach.
Some of the cultists screamed in panic. They had never encountered an enemy so bizarre, so overwhelmingly powerful!
"Th-the High Priest? Isn't the High Priest supposed to be holding him off?"
In their moment of desperation, they remembered their leader—the supreme Chosen of the Empress of Chaos. Hadn't he been fighting this imposing middle-aged man just moments ago?
The middle-aged man in the white full-body cowl heard their cries. Even as he intensified his assault—more eerie little eyes sprouting across his face and his other hand, eyes of different colors firing rays both offensive and defensive—he scoffed coldly: "You thought a mere seventh-tier cult priest could hold me back? I've killed twenty or thirty priests stronger than him."
What? Once the High Priest's death was confirmed, the cultists' and priests' mental defenses crumbled instantly. They forgot to even pray to the Empress of Chaos for power. Rays of light lashed into them, and in their panic they quickly lost all fighting capability. The Night Watch members, clergy, and Holy Knights captured some and cut down the rest—not a single one escaped.
"Hmph. These nonsensical cults have been springing up far too often lately. We need to find the root cause!" The terrifying eyes on the middle-aged man's face and hands closed, vanishing without a trace.
One of the Night Watch members said gratefully: "We're very fortunate you were nearby, sir. Otherwise, these Empress of Chaos priests would almost certainly have gotten away."
In truth, it would have been far worse than a simple escape—they would all have been wiped out. Fortunately, Wenchel, the third-ranked Night Watch member known as the "Eye of Radiance," had been tracking a separate lead, which had prevented such a dire outcome.
"I specialize in dealing with cultists. Handling them is my responsibility." Wenchel gave a slight nod. "Split into several groups and search the surrounding area. Don't let a single cultist slip through."
"Yes, sir." The Night Watch captain replied respectfully.
Wenchel paced through the great hall, studying the profane altar carved with intertwined figures of men and women, searching for clues worth investigating.
Gazing upon the grand yet weathered underground palace, the dim halls littered with corpses, the ancient stone doors and hidden chambers, Wenchel felt a vague stirring of emotion. He had witnessed scenes like this far too many times—whether during his earlier days as an adventurer or in his campaigns to eradicate cults after joining the Night Watch. Underground palaces, battles, secret chambers, hidden truths... they were all inescapable parts of his life.
"Those damned ancient mages—always digging tunnels underground..." Wenchel cursed under his breath.
Suddenly, a thought struck him. His eyes blazed like rubies and fired twin beams that shattered a nearby wall, revealing a hidden door behind it.
Before he could call out to the other clergy, he darted into the narrow passage and gave chase.
Around a bend, Wenchel came upon a succession of cultists wearing expressions of shock, filing one by one into a secret chamber.
Hmph. Wenchel let out a cold laugh. You think you can escape from me?
His densely packed eyes opened once more. Cultists crumpled to the ground one after another as Wenchel burst into the chamber, pressing forward relentlessly in pursuit of the enemies ahead. Those left incapacitated behind him would be dealt with by the clergy arriving in his wake.
As he pursued, the cultists ahead grew fewer and fewer until none remained in sight—but Wenchel did not stop. His instincts told him that a bigger fish lurked ahead, one on par with the previous "Chosen."
Crack! A stone door ornately carved with patterns shattered under his beams. Wenchel stepped into the innermost chamber, scanning his surroundings with wary eyes. But there was nothing here save a statue of the Empress of Chaos cradling a burning flame—no other cultists in sight.
How can there be no one? Wenchel surveyed the room with a flicker of surprise. As a Golden Knight—even one who leaned more toward spellcasting—he had deep faith in his instincts and premonitions.
Suddenly, a cool breeze wafted through, so chilling that even Wenchel, a Golden Knight, could not suppress a shiver. For the first time tonight, a premonition of danger stirred within him.
The premonition was not overwhelming, so Wenchel did not flee immediately. Instead, he fired off wave after wave of defensive rays, enveloping himself in a barrier of iron walls and bronze fortifications.
He looked around again, but saw only lifeless walls, a silent and empty room, and a plain, crude statue. He could not locate the source of the danger.