Neria was mechanically reciting the sacrificial rites.

She chanted phrases filled with all sorts of unholy languages, splashing the blood of the chosen goat sacrifice onto the walls. The decapitated goat’s head was smeared with sulfur, forming blasphemous symbols.

But in truth, she had no expectations for this ritual.

Though Kamil had spared no effort in providing them with ample materials and support, successful rituals were rare. Occasionally, they managed to summon a part of Chaos’s minions, but these were often eliminated by the Paladins sent as overseers because they failed to control them.

Reviving the dead? Even the Pope of the Codex of Light couldn’t easily perform such a miracle.

‘Let’s just think of this as a memorial for Kamil.’

Kamil had been kind to her.

He had saved her from the pyre when she was drawn to the knowledge of heresy, and he had ensured she had no worries about her livelihood. Of course, she knew Kamil had his own ulterior motives, but isn’t that how the world works?

Still, the fact that she had died horribly, transformed into a monster, made Neria uneasy about this ritual. The chances of success were low, and even if successful, the intended outcome was even rarer. Neria feared that the ritual might go wrong, causing her to end up like Kamil.

‘…I should just stop halfway.’

Neria decided to omit some of the procedures Kamil had taught her and prepare to end the ritual gradually.

At that moment, a voice interrupted her recitation.

Startled by the unusually loud and clear voice, Neria looked around at the followers but couldn’t tell who had spoken.

Suddenly, she had a strange feeling.

It seemed as if the chants were whispering directly into her ears.

She heard bizarre ‘sounds’ that were hard to describe—sharp metallic noises, a dull bubbling sound like tar, and the sticky noise of squeezed flesh—all in the form of the chants.

Something was happening.

She tried to stop the ritual urgently. However, her mouth wouldn’t stop. As if bursting forth, tongues of foreign language spewed out, and Neria continued to chant more loudly and passionately.

By this point, the followers had also begun to stir. Many of them experienced similar phenomena. Ancient languages and extinct words, unholy knowledge never encountered before, seemed to crawl into their brains.

“Aahh!”

Neria bit her tongue several times, her teeth clashing until her mouth was bloody, but she couldn’t stop chanting. The temple filled with incomprehensible phenomena, a mixture of wailing and chanting.

And at the center stood a man wearing a strange mask.

The moment she saw the terrifying mask, Neria realized that an entity that should not be among them had somehow infiltrated their midst.

But it was too late for realization.

Crack, creak.

Neria turned around in tears, startled by the sudden loud noise.

The north wall of the altar, which had been polished to a shine, had a large crack forming and was warping. She thought she might be crushed under the collapsing stone, but the wall did not crumble.

It twisted and grew.

Like a hand or face pressing against soft silk to reveal its shape, something behind the rock wall was contorting to emerge. It resembled a swollen tumor, a human face, and a mass of writhing tentacles.

Neria thought of the thin membrane surrounding a fetus, the amniotic sac. It was as if the rock was trying to give birth to a life.

She prayed that whatever it was would not come out.

Crack.

However, her prayers were in vain, as the rock began to split open. Thick blood gushed out from the cracks like a waterfall, drenching Neria who was standing below.

“…!”

What emerged from the rock fissure had Kamil’s face.

Only then was Neria allowed to scream.

‘Is this really happening?’

***

‘…It actually worked.’

Isaac felt a moment of dismay as he watched ‘it’ begin to emerge from beyond the cliff.

In this ritual, he had merely replaced himself as the priest with the ‘Book of the Nameless Worm’ as the sacrificial tool.

Yet, as with most of the rituals Isaac had conducted so far, even if the procedure was somewhat sloppy, it would be considered a decent ritual if the leading priest and the sacred object were excellent.

Moreover, nearly a hundred devoted believers were praying fervently, and there was even a temple.

Conditions better than this were rare. The only issue was that this ritual was for Camille’s resurrection.

‘Is that even a resurrection ritual?’

Camille’s face extended out from the cliff. It looked like a stick made of Camille’s face had been pressed into wide, tough rubber.

Her hands appeared haphazardly across the surface, but compared to the dozens of meters of the body protruding from the wall, they looked too small and fragile.

Isaac recalled something from the sight.

This was not a resurrection ritual.

It was a summoning ritual.

While there might not be much difference between the two since both involved calling back the dead, Camille had died as a Whitewood in Prayer at the end.

Resurrecting in that form was not what Camille would have wanted.

“Ah, Camille! It’s Cardinal Camille!”

One of the believers screamed and prostrated themselves. The chanting of prayers stopped as they began to break free from the ritual’s pressure. Despite being the ones conducting the ritual, they started screaming and struggling to flee.

The thing that might be Camille began to wriggle, seemingly stimulated by their screams.

Isaac felt a strong sense of incongruity. Whatever that was, it could hardly be called Camille. Even if they brought Camille’s grandmother or grandchild, they would shake their heads.

No, Isaac felt something more.

Like an anglerfish, something beyond was using Camille as bait to break through the door and come out.

“Cardinal Camille.”

Neria cried, prostrated.

“What should I do? I don’t know what to do now…”

Neria had no idea why the ritual had succeeded or what to do next. Honestly, if she could send Camille back right now, she would, but saying that would likely cause the giant body to crush her.

Camille’s mouth gaped open but made no sound. Instead, she wiggled her hand behind the membrane and pointed somewhere.

Everyone’s eyes followed her finger. It was pointing directly at Isaac. As he realized the dire situation, commotion broke out behind him.

“Intruder! An intruder!”

“Damn it…!”

The sudden uproar redirected the believers’ attention to the back. Believers wearing hyena masks were wrestling with a man dressed as a monk.

Isaac was speechless when he saw the man fighting the hyena masks.

‘Ian?’

Ian, the novice Paladin of the Brient Knight Order, was somehow fighting here below.

Though he wasn’t wearing armor, he easily overpowered the men, then started running up the stairs. Seeing this, Neria shouted urgently as if receiving a powerful revelation.

“It’s him! He must be the one who led Cardinal Camille to her death! He came to ruin the ritual and prevent her return! Catch him!”

Prompted by Neria’s cry, the believers screamed and charged. Ian, blocked by others at the top of the stairs, soon found himself surrounded.

He drew his sword and swung it furiously.

Even without armor, a Paladin was still a Paladin. No matter how many people there were, they were like sheep before the Paladin. However, fighting was less terrifying than the giant monster behind him.

Ian couldn’t fully exert his skills, not because he couldn’t, but because he was hesitant to kill unarmed civilians.

Isaac noticed this hesitation.

“C-catch…! Aaaah!”

As Neria tried to order his capture, the entire temple shook violently. Camille thrashed in rage, causing the temple to quake. Columns collapsed, and stones fell. As the dreadful word ‘collapse’ crossed her mind, Neria shouted hastily.

“Cardinal Camille, why are you doing this! We’ll catch him soon and offer him to you…”

But trying to capture the wrong person wouldn’t satisfy Camille.

As if deciding to capture him herself, Camille wriggled and began to emerge from beyond the cliff. The membrane tore, revealing her true body inside.

The writhing things within the membrane were three tentacles. Each one was as thick as several pillars combined, with ends shaped like Camille’s face or small hands.

From the torn membrane, blood gushed out, soaking the temple floor. The newly reborn Whitewood in Prayer, rooted in the giant wall, extended its body.

“A-ah, aaaaah…”

Neria was completely dazed by the sight. Then, red bugs with tendrils burst from within the membrane. They were flea-like creatures, the size of a person’s head, covered in tendrils.

The tendril-fleas quickly swarmed a believer, crushing his head in an instant, then sucked his fluids before taking over his head.

Horrified screams erupted.

The believers, who had turned to capture Ian, were now terrified by the chaos behind them. They rushed up the stairs, not to catch Ian but to escape.

Neria saw a tentacle-flea rushing at her. It was much larger and more monstrous, using its tendrils like legs. Realizing she knew nothing about the world beyond, which she had studied all her life, she was utterly dazed.

At that moment, with a thud, the flea burst instantly.

The one who cut it down walked past Neria without hesitation. She realized that this was the blasphemous figure who had hijacked and led her ritual earlier.

No, it wasn’t hijacked.

It was reclaimed.

As a scholar who had studied the Nameless Chaos for a long time, Neria realized Isaac’s true identity.

He was the ‘true’ agent of the Nameless Chaos.

***

‘Hesabel, protect Ian from dying.’

‘Yes.’

Isaac looked back at Neria.

Neria felt suffocating terror from the bizarre mask he wore.

Through the thought-wave function built into the ‘Crawling Fear’ mask, Isaac whispered to her.

[Evacuate ‘my’ believers to a safe place and wait for my orders. I will punish you later for the blasphemy you committed.]

“A-ah, yes, honorable one!”

Neria banged her head on the floor several times as she cried out. The owl mask shattered from the force, but she didn’t seem to notice. She led the believers away, guiding them through a secret passage typically found in such temples.

Leaving the believers to Neria, Isaac approached Camille, or rather, the Whitewood in Prayer.

[It’s a bit troublesome to kill the same thing twice…]

The thought-wave from the mask directly reached the recipient, regardless of noise or language.

The Whitewood in Prayer looked down at Isaac and swung a tentacle at him. Isaac easily dodged and sliced upward with Kaldwin, leaving a large, fierce cut that looked like a bite mark.

[If you didn’t want to die again, you shouldn’t have come back to life.]

Isaac prepared to kill her once more. He had already defeated her once. Though the tentacles had grown thicker, they were fewer in number. It wouldn’t be difficult.

But then, a tremor shook the entire temple. Similar-sized tentacles burst out from beyond the wall.

Bang! Over ten tentacles whipped through the temple, trying to tear and devour Isaac.

Startled, Isaac activated Kaldwin’s acceleration ability. His body darted along the tentacles, running swiftly.

The tentacles weren’t the only problem. The columns collapsed from their rampage, causing the ceiling to cave in. Whether crushed by tentacles or tons of rock, the result would be the same.

After several minutes of chaos, Isaac, breathing heavily, saw the moonlight streaming through the collapsed ceiling.

There had been several close calls, but he had barely survived.

Tentacles protruded from the wall, embedding themselves in various parts of the temple.

‘…If I hadn’t trained my swordsmanship while studying the movement of tentacles, I would have been flattened.’

Through the collapsed ceiling, the night sky was visible.

The ‘Whitewood in Prayer’ was dancing toward the moon, giving thanks for its new birth.