Chapter 127 - 127: Medici

"Why do you say that? Aren't you considered the vessel of the True Creator now?" Mr. A revealed the fanatical smile of a true believer. "Of course it's different. In fact, the Lord has been trying "His" best not to corrupt me, and to delay "His" descent as much as possible. Otherwise, "His" light would've already been cast upon Backlund." Damn, so Mr. A is basically a walking time bomb right now? Should I…report him to the Church? "But hasn't the Aurora Order always been preparing for the Lord's descent? Why would "He" intentionally restrain and delay it?" "Heh, you know quite a bit." Mr. A calmed down again. "Because I'm not the chosen vessel for descent. I don't have the flesh seedling planted by the Lord, nor do I possess "His" divinity. If "He" were to descend directly, "He" would be nothing more than a comet streaking across the sky—brilliant, yes, but far too fleeting." Tsk, describing a terrifying divine descent like a comet crossing the sky…Fanatics are all bootlickers, I swear. Edward asked, "Then, if the Lord were to briefly parasitise me, what would happen?" "You'd be corrupted. You might lose control. You might die." Corruption? I'm not afraid of that. Edward nodded. "What else?" "???" Mr. A looked stunned. Did you even hear what I just said? "I mean, if I'm not afraid of dying, then is it doable?" Mr. A frowned deeply. His beautiful eyes stared hard at Edward for a full minute before he suddenly turned and walked away. "Wait here." He briskly passed through a long corridor and descended into a basement that resembled a temple. There, he threw himself before the upside-down giant statue of the True Creator, spat out blood and flesh, and began to pray in a low murmur. Several minutes later, he looked up at the statue and solemnly answered, "As "You" will, my Lord." Clink. Edward flipped a coin again—another failed divination. Just as expected, anything involving such a high-level entity is destined to fail in divination. But wait, why didn't the divination fail earlier with Medici? Oh, right—they probably deliberately refrained from interfering to avoid alarming the diviner and scaring him away. Just then, Mr. A returned. A lingering trace of piety still lingered on his face. "The Lord has agreed." "That's great." "But…" Mr. A's eyes swept over Edward with a scrutinising gaze that made his skin crawl. "As you are now, you cannot yet withstand the Lord's parasitism…This so-called 'parasitism' is, in essence, an incomplete divine descent." "What do I need to do?" "Bring it out." A servant stepped forward, presenting a cup filled with a thick, blood-red liquid. "Drink this. For one hour, you'll be able to serve as a relatively safe host for the Lord's parasitism." Edward frowned. "What is this?" "The Potion for Secrets Suppliant." "??? Are you trying to kill me?" Mr. A gave him a peculiar smile. "Of course, you could also let the Lord plant a seed of divinity within you. Once it matures, you'll become "His" true descent vessel—one of complete divine incarnation." "….." In other words, I'd become like Lanevus, huh. No, thank you. I wanted to borrow godly power, not become a god, damn it. While Edward was busy cursing in his heart, Mr. A's smile suddenly vanished. He said flatly, "Relax. The moment you drink the potion, the Lord will enter your body and immediately consume all of it. You won't lose control. You won't die. At most…" His tone remained neutral, but there was an undeniable hint of malice, "You might just go insane." Edward blurted out, "There's such a good deal?" Mr. A: "???" "Just kidding." Edward shrugged. "So what you're saying is—even the Lord can't fully eliminate the side effects of potions consumed through alternate means." His eyes suddenly darkened—clearly displeased, perhaps thinking Edward was questioning the True Creator's omnipotence. For a fanatic, that was utterly unforgivable. "See ya." Edward waved and turned to leave. "Heh." A cold smirk tugged at Mr. A's lips. He opened his mouth to speak—only for Edward to spin back around, snatch the cup, and down the red liquid in one gulp. In the next second— "His" spirituality exploded within him. A flood of intense negative emotions rushed into his brain, throwing his thoughts into chaos. His skin began to boil, cracking open with bloody fissures, while his nails and hair grew uncontrollably. These were the signs of losing control. Edward gritted his teeth. His pupils turned crimson as blood-tears slid down from the corners of his eyes. Yet amid the pain, he felt a bizarre sense of euphoria— Like that old joke, "Ever since I went crazy, my mind has felt so much better." Unfortunately, the euphoria only lasted a few seconds before being forcibly suppressed. He watched as the bloodied cracks on his skin rapidly healed. At the same time, the whispers of the True Creator echoed in his ears. Though he couldn't fully understand the language, it was packed with an absurd amount of "Cyka Blyat." "Tasty." A scarlet slit suddenly opened across his forehead, and within it, a black singular eye darted about. The True Creator had successfully parasitised Edward's body. Aside from fanatics like Mr. A, no sane person would ever willingly offer themselves for parasitism, right? But he quickly realised—the negative emotions in his mind hadn't dissipated. On the contrary, they'd grown even more intense. It was like pouring gunpowder onto oil—and then lighting a match. BOOM! He exploded. Losing all control over his body, fury surged through him. Driven by the wrath, he whipped out his wand: "Confundo!" Mr. A staggered as if smacked in the head by a club. "Sectumsempra!" Although he dodged swiftly, deep slashes still tore across his body, blood gushing out. "Silencio—" "Muffliato!" Mr. A had barely gotten a few words out before his mouth vanished into thin air. "You bloody bastard, DIE! DIE! DIE!!" Edward brandished his wand madly, a deluge of yellow, red, blue, and green spells cascading forth. Even with Mr. A's agility, he still ended up taking the brunt of the onslaught in a matter of seconds. A few moments later, Mr. A's mouth regenerated. Ignoring the blood gushing from his wounds, he muttered lowly, "My Lord..." At the same time, Edward poured in all his remaining spirituality and flicked his wand twice in quick succession— "Petrificus Totalus!" "Diffindo!" Boom!! Mr. A exploded—literally. His body was reduced to scattered chunks across the floor. "Huff...huff...huff..." Edward stood in place, gasping for air, bewildered as he looked at the writhing flesh on the floor. The fury was fading, and reality slowly sank in. "Did I...just one-shot Mr. A?" So this is the infamous "power up after going dark"? No...it must be the boost from the True Creator. Soon enough, Mr. A began to reassemble from the squirming pieces of flesh. Wounds still marred his grotesque face, now drained of all colour. The first thing he did was lower his head and take a step back, "My Lord, I await "Your" return." Then he murmured softly, "From here, you have about one hour." "That's enough," Edward smiled faintly, and his figure twisted and vanished. The potion had been largely digested again. ——— [No. 8 Williams Street] Edward once again arrived at the spacious hall filled with buildings of the Fourth Epoch. He walked up to the door on the left, looked through the crack at the blood-red double doors within, and said, "Lord Medici, I've returned." Almost instantly, a surge of overwhelming malice rushed toward him. But just as it was about to touch him, the scarlet slit on Edward's forehead opened, revealing a single black eye. An even more potent malice surged forth—this time from the True Creator—instantly obliterating the evil intent and surging straight into the blood-red doors. "!!!" Edward vaguely heard a silent scream, seemingly echoing from within the spiritual realm. "Thank you, my Lord." He drew an inverted cross on his chest. "Lord Medici, I said yesterday that I am a Blessed of the Lord. Perhaps words alone failed to earn your trust, but I believe I no longer need to say anything more today, do I?" Despite the presence of the True Creator, Edward didn't recklessly step into the inner room. After all, the evil spirit within was a "three-in-one"—not just Medici alone. Judging from Mr. A's battle with the Saint of Secrets, it could be estimated that a "half-descended" True Creator could only exert power at the demigod level. Whoooosh—! A gust of wind blew from within, whistling as it stirred the dust. Soon, the swirling sand spelled out a message: "He is not the True Creator, merely a 'Son of God' bearing "His" divinity." "You jest," Edward replied with a smile. "If the Lord had truly descended upon Backlund, a divine war would've broken out by now. But it's undeniable that through the 'Son of God,' the Lord can see all and communicate through him. If you don't believe me, feel free to test it." Another gust swept across the ground, forming new words: "I tried. He's…nearly completely mad. Communication is impossible." Medici still remembered the True Creator from the Fourth Epoch Solomon Empire. Back then, He still had a few anchors and wasn't entirely insane—nor could "He" be considered an evil god. Unfortunately, during the War of the Four Emperors, the Second Solomon Empire—backed by the True Creator—was defeated. "He" thus lost the few anchors "He" had, and plunged into madness, further and further down the abyss. "We've been trying to help "Him" regain "His" sanity." The sandy letters changed again: "How?" "By spreading "His" light across the world…creating more anchors for "Him"." The words twisted as if in mockery: "You think those traitors will let you?" "That's why I want the Card of Blasphemy from you." "What do you want that for? You're not on the Hunter Path." Edward answered, "The Cards of Blasphemy has an extremely high level. I can use it in rituals to unleash powerful effects." "How do you know I have the Card? And how did you know I'm here?" "A secret organisation told me." Medici paused, then formed a word on the floor with sand: "Adam?" "I don't know." Boom! A violent gust erupted, kicking up a sandstorm from within the underground structure. Edward quickly cast a Bubble-Head Charm on himself and obediently stood aside, waiting for Medici to vent his anger. Minutes later, the storm halted midair and dropped all at once to the ground, rearranging into a new message: "You may have the Card of Blasphemy, but you must help me lift the seal." "No problem. What do I need to do?" "Find direct descendants of the Sauron, Einhorn and Medici families. Extract 10 millilitres of blood from each—more is fine, but not less. Then mix it with holy water and sprinkle it into the room where I reside." Before Edward could ask further, another line followed: "You should be able to locate the Sauron and Einhorn descendants yourself. The Medici bloodline is likely hiding in Binsy." "Understood." Edward smiled. "Can I have the Card of Blasphemy now? I'll need sufficient power to retrieve the blood for you." The dust on the ground stirred and became chaotic. Silence settled over the underground chamber. Then suddenly, a shadow shot through the crack of the door, flying toward Edward and landing gently in his hand. It was a tarot card, depicting a priest in a deep red robe seated in a chariot—The priest's appearance was unmistakably that of Roselle Gustav. ——— [Note]: Here's the Extra Chapter. Enjoy~ If you guys want one more tomorrow, we'd need to hit 355 Powestones. Go, VOTE! Oh, and if you are like me and want to read 40 Chapters in advance of the current story right now, you can support me on my Patreon. Trust me, it's awesome~ Link - (P)atre(o)n.c(o)m/ Iseeblack [Remove the brackets]