Chapter 11: Things Have Come to This, Let’s Eat First
“So this is the sculpture tainted by the evil god’s aura, the very source of the Iron Cross Plague in later generations?”
Shiltina’s gaze locked onto the sculpture at the center of the altar.
The sculpture was entirely cast from a gray-black metal.
The details were obscured, and only the outline of a humanoid figure bound to a cross could be vaguely seen.
She wanted to pick it up for closer inspection, but as soon as she reached out, Rast beat her to it.
Rast pulled out a square black box from his coat and carefully placed the cruciform sculpture inside, sealing it meticulously.
“Lead box.” Rast raised the box in his hand. “It can’t provide perfect isolation. Theoretically, only a mithril container can perfectly contain pollutants.”
“But time is tight this time, so I didn’t have the luxury of being picky.”
Shiltina crossed her arms, watching Rast properly store away the lead box containing the evil god’s sculpture. “So, that’s it? We’re done here?”
The process of eliminating this cult stronghold had gone even more smoothly than Shiltina had expected.
Now that the cultists’ summoning ritual had been disrupted, their base eradicated, and even the evil god sculpture—the source of the pollution—secured, even if the cult still had a few small fry scattered in other places, they no longer posed a major threat.
Logically speaking, Rast and Shiltina only needed to dispose of the sculpture—maybe bury it in a pit or sink it into the sea—and then hide somewhere safe in Deep Blue Port until the mission timer ended.
“Unfortunately.”
“If it were really that easy to tie everything up in a bow, I would’ve cleared this alone a long time ago.”
Rast secured the lead box close to his body and smiled.
“I said earlier, once a resident of Deep Blue Port happened to catch a glimpse of the sculpture, even inadvertently, the seed of pollution would already be sown—even if they had no memory of it afterward.”
“Likewise, the rules of the divine are not so easily understood or predicted.”
He glanced around at the altar, now in ruins with its ritual setup completely destroyed. “Using offerings, rituals, and the devout faith of followers as a medium—”
“That’s indeed the least costly and most straightforward method of summoning descent. But it is by no means the only one.”
Rast paused briefly in his speech.
“Anyone who has ever glimpsed that sculpture or even just heard rumors of its existence… may become a believer, a vessel of flesh. The only difference from a proper ritual lies in the level of loss and the number of people required.”
“I don’t know if dusk in Deep Blue Port today holds any particular significance in terms of mysticism.”
“But a Descent at 6:30 p.m. on October 9th is the one unchanging event across tens of thousands of cycles I’ve lived through.”
“If the summoning ritual succeeds, there’s nothing more to say. But if it fails and the original followers are wiped out… then the countless latent infected within Deep Blue Port become the medium for His descent.”
Rast gazed at the flickering candlelight in the secret chamber and chuckled softly. “The destiny charted by the divine wouldn’t be altered by the petty gestures of mortals.”
“Just like how you wouldn’t cancel a school field trip just because a bug bit a hole in your backpack.”
Silence returned to the chamber, broken only by the crackling of the white candle on the table.
Shiltina looked out the window at the gray sky and Deep Blue Port shrouded in nightfall, feeling a suffocating sense of oppression.
No need for contact, no need for belief—merely seeing, or even just hearing about the sculpture, was enough to spread the pollution… Who knew how many latent carriers were hiding in this ancient port city right now?
It was even possible that the infected outnumbered the normal humans.
And the contamination had already begun months ago—perhaps even half a year back—far beyond the point where Shiltina or Rast could interfere.
She had thought this was a hero’s story, where defeating villains and stopping evil plots would naturally lead to saving the world and changing Deep Blue Port’s fate.
But now, it seemed they weren’t heroes in a stage play at all. They were merely a swarm of ants clinging together for dear life in a flood…
In the face of the overwhelming tide of destiny, all their struggles felt utterly powerless.
…
“But I know you’re not someone who just sits around waiting to die, Rast.”
After a long silence, it was Shiltina who finally broke it again.
“If you’d truly given up, you’d still be playing dress-up in that hotel room, not standing here with me now.”
She stared into Rast’s eyes, as deep and lightless as an abyss. “You already have a plan, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
Rast spun the empty cylinder of his revolver and began loading it with new rounds, one by one. “If I didn’t, then when you asked me about our chances earlier, I wouldn’t have said one percent—I’d have said zero.”
Shiltina frowned as she watched him reload.
Unlike the standard short rounds he had used earlier, these bullets were encased in copper shells over their lead cores.
These were full metal jacket rounds—designed for high penetration at the cost of initial velocity and stopping power. They were usually reserved for use against armored units on battlefields.
But where in Deep Blue Port would there be armored units? Was Rast planning to challenge the Royal Navy’s steel fleet with just a revolver?
“What are you planning to do?” Shiltina rubbed her brow. “The pollution in Deep Blue Port has already spread. That’s a fact we can’t change or stop.”
“And because of the rules of the Nightworld, I can’t leave Deep Blue Port… I’m guessing you’re bound by something similar, or else you would’ve tried to escape already.”
Deep Blue Port now had a time bomb named “the Infected” attached to it. They couldn’t disarm it, nor could they flee. It looked like death was the only option.
“But if we have one advantage, it’s this—”
“According to intelligence from the Nightworld, perhaps due to dimensional differences, gods are heavily limited in how they can interfere with the real world—whether in descent or in gathering intelligence.”
“So, even though that evil god interfered with the real world through the polluted sculpture, His actual form can’t perceive the real-time situation in Deep Blue Port. He can only act through a fragment of divinity residing in the sculpture, following some pre-established rule set.”
Shiltina glanced at Rast. “You plan to exploit that, don’t you?”
“Excellent deduction.” Rast clapped his hands. “Seems Miss Shiltina is not just a fine swordswoman, but has the potential to be a great detective as well.”
“Your guess is mostly right… But before we, lowly worms that we are, challenge a god high above, there’s one more important thing we need to do.”
“What thing?” Shiltina frowned.
Pa—
“Eat.” Rast flicked a bullet with his finger and yawned. “And sleep.”