Chapter 384: The World Behind the Wall
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 384: The World Behind the Wall
Emiel Cathedral, The Supreme Place.
"The spring tea of the Holy City is as fragrant as ever. It’s truly refreshing; I feel as though I’ve grown twenty years younger."
Clad in grand, luxurious divine robes, a white-haired old man set down his exquisite teacup and looked toward another elderly man nearby with a smile.
"Wouldn't you agree, Your Majesty?"
"If you like it so much, you may take some with you when you leave."
The Pope, who sat cross-legged atop the void-like projection of the ruins, finally lowered his head. A porcelain cup filled with hot tea rose into the air and drifted into his palm.
The cup rotated slowly with the movement of his hand. Its patterns were delicate and beautiful, depicting clusters of pale blue flowers that seemed to bloom with life.
He took a light sip, his expression devoid of joy or sorrow.
"You are the esteemed Archbishop Locust. If you take a little precious tea with you, I hardly think I'll be charging you with corruption and bribery."
"Your Majesty sounds truly merciful."
Archbishop Locust unceremoniously poured himself another cup. He tilted his head back and drained it in a manner that was like a cow devouring peonies—utterly devoid of elegance or refinement.
"Ha... but... let’s forget about that. An old man of my age might end up in a coffin any day now. If I die, I die, but wasting fine tea bestowed by the Goddess? Now, that would be an unforgivable sin."
"You still have plenty of life in you."
The Pope gave the old man a deep look. "Enough to see several more rounds of spring tea, at the very least."
"Hehe, I thank Your Majesty for the kind words. However, being able to return to the embrace of the Goddess sooner would also be a blessing for me."
With a casual wave of his hand, Archbishop Locust sent the teacup landing precisely back onto its saucer. He stood up and looked toward the sun, moon, and stars following their orbits across the Artificial Sky Dome.
"No matter how many times I see it, this Supreme Place is truly magnificent."
"Naturally."
The Pope stood with his hands behind his back. Beneath this Artificial Sky Dome, he appeared so small, yet the aura he projected made it seem as though the entire world revolved around him.
He reached out his hand as if to grasp the sun, moon, and stars within his palm.
"These are our 'Rules.' This is our... 'World.' Of course it is magnificent."
"A pity it is fake," the Archbishop sighed.
"Yes... a pity it is fake..."
The Pope suddenly paused, as if someone had whispered something into his ear.
He stopped gazing upward and instead looked down at the projection of the ruins beneath his feet. A rare look of solemnity appeared on his face.
Seeing this, Archbishop Locust’s face—which looked far older than the Pope’s—immediately turned grave. He asked in a low voice, "Your Majesty, has the door opened?"
"Yes, the door has opened."
"Faster than I imagined."
"There are many exceptional individuals among the children this time."
"Indeed." Archbishop Locust looked troubled. "I can already imagine the immense pressure those old bastards will put on us once they learn the truth."
"Do you need to worry about such things?" The Pope glanced at him. "That pressure won't fall on an outsourced Archbishop like you anyway."
"I am merely sharing Your Majesty's burdens," Locust said with utmost sincerity.
"Heh." The Pope let out a soft chuckle. "No need. In this world, the person who can make me feel pressure does not yet ex—"
He cut himself off, seemingly remembering something unpleasant. His eye twitched slightly, and his wrinkles seemed to deepen.
"Fine. There is one old bastard who can make me feel pressure."
He helplessly admitted it. Thinking of a certain white-haired old loli who lacked any sense of dignity, the Pope turned his head away and swept his sleeve.
"Hmph. Regardless, you needn't worry too much about that. That old bastard was faster and happier than anyone else to kick her own disciple into the pit."
"Compared to that... has everyone completed their assigned tasks?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Archbishop Locust stopped joking and saluted with his hand over his heart, his expression solemn. "Everything is prepared."
"Very well."
The Pope stood with majestic poise, looking down at the projection of the ruins.
"Then let it begin. This... grand gamble... that shall change the fate of all humanity."
"Yes."
The response came, but it was not from Archbishop Locust alone.
A low, grand hum echoed throughout the entirety of The Supreme Place.
The sun, moon, and stars moved along their established orbits as if they were the inherent truths of this world.
Finally, above the Pope’s head, a New Moon hung at the very center of the firmament.
It shed a holy, pristine radiance.
"For... the Goddess," the Pope whispered with devotion, hand over his heart.
"For... humanity."
*
"Mr. Muen, where are the people you said we should save?"
In the deathly silence, Margarita was the first to snap out of it, turning to look at Muen.
Muen, however, could not answer.
He didn't know either. During his conversation with Freya, he had theorized that there might be another condition for becoming a Saintess—that behind this wall, there were indigenous people resisting the invasion of the Evil God, waiting to be saved. But where were they?
Above them was a red sky.
Unlike the outer regions, which had blue skies by day and starry skies by night, the firmament here was covered by a thick layer of twilight clouds, stained with a blood-red hue so deep it seemed impossible to wash away.
And beneath their feet was no ordinary ground.
It was a creation made of piled flesh. Thick meridians and blood vessels, covered in pink membranes, extended everywhere from the surface of the meat, occasionally pulsing with a faint rhythm.
Grotesque "plants" grew atop these formations, each resembling a deformed tumor that defied description.
Beneath canopies that looked like clusters of countless infant palms, fruits resembling skinned cattle and sheep hung in dense clusters. They twitched occasionally, as if they were still alive.
Beyond that, as far as the eye could see, there was nothing normal—let alone "indigenous people." Only at the edge of the horizon did a high tower stand, silhouetted behind a hazy, blood-colored thin mist.
"Ugh... that’s so fucking disgusting."
Someone immediately began to gag. This scene instantly reminded them of the foul, rotting land they had encountered in the night not long ago.
"Has this place been corrupted by the Evil God too? So quickly? I thought the wall was supposed to resist the corruption?"
Muen scanned the area, frowning slightly.
The diary he had found previously mentioned that the second wall existed to resist the corruption of the so-called "Outer Gods." However, the sight before them made one wonder if the wall's only purpose was to trap innocent outsiders like them.
"Muen." Liya seemed frightened by the unexpected scene and gently tugged on Muen’s sleeve.
"It's okay," Muen comforted her. "At least it doesn't smell."
Wait, it doesn't smell?
As he said it, a flash of inspiration struck Muen’s mind. He felt as if he had grasped something.
His gaze swept over the nauseating landscape once more—a place one wouldn't want to look at twice—and he couldn't help but mutter under his breath:
"I feel like... something is wrong."