From Hogwarts to Strixhaven.

Chapter 524 The Fate of the Rebels
Ivy's claim of understanding the gods is not just empty talk, but a conclusion and reflection based on existing facts.

The Almanac of Karthus records exactly how the Netheril arcane mages invented the unique twelfth-circle spell a thousand years ago.

Moreover, it also includes Karthus's speculations and experiments on the truth of the gods.

Karthus believed that the most important part was the power of the gods, an unfathomable power that transcended common sense and far exceeded the scope of what mortals could control. However, Karthus believed that as long as he understood and acquired divine power through magic, he could also master its mysteries.

But the Netheril Empire's experience taught Ivy that Karthus's premise for creating the Ascension spell was actually flawed.

However, given that he did indeed create his own magic network after usurping the power of the goddess of magic, it may not be entirely wrong.

However, it cannot be denied that Karthus's understanding of the gods was extremely limited.

Gods are not limited to divine power.

Through his research on the blood of the gods of Losanda and the orb of destruction within Gale, Ivy concluded that in addition to divine power, gods have at least two other important components: divinity and divine office.

Divinity, in this context, refers to the fundamental nature that determines why a deity is a deity.

Divine office, on the other hand, refers to the scope of authority granted to deities.

The final divine power is the power that deities use to exercise authority within their jurisdiction.

Just like the various power structures that make up mortal societies, divine power is also one of the most abused things.

Whether it's overstepping authority, abusing power, forming alliances through the use of power, or engaging in acts of destruction and vendetta, the relationships between gods are no different from the international relations of mortals.

As the outward manifestation of divine power, people are always filled with endless imagination about the most frequently occurring divine power, believing that as long as they obtain this power, they can become the corresponding deity.

Grand Archmage Karthus of Netheril shared this view.

Standing on the shoulders of giants, Ivy undoubtedly saw more of the world than Karthus did.

After witnessing firsthand that the adamantine construct he created had gained true intelligence, he became fascinated by the divine spark bestowed upon him by Losanda.

It is a power that can turn decay into magic, even more mysterious than the magic of creating something from nothing.

A single beam of light, a ray of light projected from the realm of Lossanda, was enough to imbue a group of metal creations with true intelligence.

No lengthy preparations or cumbersome rituals were needed—Ivy believed magic could do the same thing, but certainly not in such a convenient way.

Losanda seemed to have simply wound up a toy or turned a key, opening the door to wisdom for a bunch of metal components.

Creativity, inspiration, beginning, dawn.

These are Losanda's divinity, and also the divine office he was given.

Similar to the leaders of mortals, the duties of gods are also bestowed upon them.

The king's power comes from the people's trust, while the gods' duties come from the believers' faith.

However, this does not mean that all divine offices are bestowed by believers. Ivy believes that at least a large portion of the natural gods derive their divine offices from the world itself.

For example, Mystra, the goddess of magic; Shar, the lady of night; and her sister, the silver saint, Serene.

Before the emergence of true intelligent life, these deities were already extremely powerful beings. The material world was more like a shackle to them than something they needed to strive for.

However, the world of Toril is different. Although it is known as the Forgotten Continent, the eyes of the gods have never left it.

Besides the gods, there is another god in this world, the supreme god Io. He not only decides the appointment of the gods, but also has the power to manipulate fate at will. No one, and no god, can disobey His commands.

Those gods who simultaneously attain divinity, divine power, and divine office must also obtain His approval to become true deities of Toril.

Aside from the divine power and divinity he has actually come into contact with, all other secrets about the gods are currently just speculations and conjectures by Ivy. However, even so, his understanding of the gods already surpasses that of the Archmage Karthus, not to mention that of Sarovok, whose body is bound by rainbow light.

With a simple silencing spell cast and the pillars erected to support the roof of the Murder Tribunal, the adventurers, disguised as Echoes of Baal's Son and the Black Knight guarding the gate, sat in the blood-soaked hall of the Murder Tribunal, quietly waiting for Orin to take the bait.

"Why is the door open?" These were Orin's first words upon arriving at the Murder Tribunal.

The three black knights standing at the door did not answer Orin's question. The knight in the lead, holding a shield, gestured an invitation: "He's waiting for you."

“Grandfather?” Orin forced a smile onto his rather disheveled face. “I’ve never seen him so sensible! It seems that even that old relic has seen the future I’ve carefully woven—a blood-red conquest that belongs only to me.”

After his self-absorbed reverie ended, Orin threw a pile of severed hands on the ground: "Take these, consider them my reward for the watchdog. He should have known better; perhaps I would have chopped him a few more times if I had been in a good mood."

Apart from the lamb to the slaughter, everyone who enters the murder tribunal must offer a worthy sacrifice.

If you don't fight your way in like an adventurer, then you have to bring back the severed hand of the victim.

Orin completely missed the failure of Salofok not only because of the long distance, but also partly because she collected these "passes" along the way.

The doors of the Murder Tribunal closed behind her. Orin, swinging her long white braid, looked at the three black knights following her with a puzzled expression: "Why are you following me?"

After a moment of silence, the leading black knight with the shield uttered only one word, "...witness."

"That's certainly an honor for you," Olin nodded seriously. "Although you might not necessarily like it... Hahahaha—"

Orin laughed as she descended the stairs, feeling the slick, blood-soaked texture of the Murder Tribunal beneath her feet. Her laughter nearly drained the air from her chest, especially as she saw the six Echoes of Baal seated within the Murder Tribunal.

"Hahaha...cough...ha—cough cough...you actually didn't make a move?" Olin coughed for a while, panting, staring intently at Sarovok, who was sitting at the highest point, like a child staring at a clown in a circus. "You really are an old man, grandfather...to be honest, I did feel a little bit moved—just a little bit!"

"Alright." As if by magic, Orin produced two daggers from his waist, one of which was a scarlet curved dagger inlaid with Netherstone.

She swept her dagger across the entire judging panel, saying disdainfully, "Who wants to go first? Or shall we go in order? Swift Elacela? Fire Giant Jagasura? Half-Drow Shanda? Half-Dragon Abazigo? Monk Balthazar?"

"Oh!" As Orin's dagger slashed across Amelia, the priestess of Baal, who was sitting in the center, she suddenly cried out dramatically, "I had forgotten about you, you heartless Amelia. You are the first dead person I have awakened from the darkness, aren't you?"

“However, besides those I awakened with the murder ritual, there is another member of the Killing Clan who has long since returned.” Orin’s expression was one of pure ecstasy. “My dearest grandfather, Sarovok, who established the Temple of Murder at Baldur’s Gate, and the Grand Inquisitor of the Murder Inquisition.”

"My killing spree should start with you, shouldn't it?"

Orin watched with delight as Shalovak rose from her throne, speaking in her familiar, deep voice, "There's someone else waiting for you in this city. Your kin of slaughter, Baal's greatest masterpiece, the mastermind behind the Supreme God's plan. I thought I'd see her corpse here. Did you fail, or are you simply too afraid to face her? Orin, the Crimson Daughter?"

"Nonsense!" Orin's smile vanished. "The altar of Baal awaits my domination! An altar soaked in the blood and flesh of unwilling sacrifices! Withered, dead, drop by drop, and drop by drop!"

"She is the most important sacrifice!" Orin roared, his voice rippling across the pool of blood on the floor of the Murder Tribunal. "My sacrifice! I will, under Baal's watchful eye, personally dissect her corpse piece by piece, disintegrate it bit by bit, drain all her blood, and then dance within it!"

puff!

A jade-green dagger pierced through Orin's chest.

Evil Thoughts gently embraced Orin from behind, like two true sisters whispering in each other's ears: "Well said, sister. You've got my blood boiling!"

Orin recognized the dagger that had pierced her chest—an old friend of evil thoughts, the murder weapon that had slaughtered countless people in the Temple of Murder. She had never imagined what it would feel like to have that knife through her chest.

Orin pointed at Sarovok before the throne: "...Traitor! I am—the Father God's most beloved daughter..."

"Do we really have to put on this show?" Orin was surprised to see someone who should never have been there—the high-ranking harpist Jahira—in the place that belonged to the priestess of Baal.

“Oh, my dear. You’ve lived this long, why not waste a little time having some fun? Just think of it as watching a play.” Asdallen, fiddling with his fingers, appeared in the spot that had originally belonged to Ela Sera.

“I will never forget this scene.” Cindy’s features became even sharper, and Mingsala’s heroic face was adorned with a satisfied and excited smile. “My dream has been half realized, Orin… Just by recalling the image of you drowning in your own blood, even if ten, fifty, or a hundred years have passed, I can still drink an extra glass of the worst sour red wine for it!”

Orin's finger was still pointing at Shalovock on the platform, but she had lost the strength to speak.

The dagger that pierced her heart with evil intent was like a greedy leech, constantly sucking Olin's blood and taking away every bit of Baal's divine power from her body.

Finally, when Ivy removed the disguise of Salofak and stood atop the Murder Tribunal, Orin's body completely dissolved into a pool of filthy blood, with only a few pitiful bones surviving.

"Something doesn't seem right." Having finally killed his sisters, Xie Nian scratched his head, staring in confusion at the last remaining parts of Olin on the ground. "Her power didn't flow into my body—does that mean I have to eat those bones? That's so unhygienic!"

A strange whirlwind appeared in the enclosed hall, creating ripples in the pool of blood.

The adventurers, having removed their disguises, looked around and a chill ran through them.

“He’s here… He’s nearby…” The real Salofak suddenly appeared in the middle of the hall. The magic that had stopped him from speaking had failed, and his deep, hoarse voice was weak and feeble, as if a person who had been dead for three days had spoken again.

A dagger suddenly pierced through the heavy armor and the iridescent chains binding him from the inside, and blood splattered outwards along the ornate gilded blade, like flowers blooming at dawn.

Then came the second game, the third game...

More and more daggers pierced through Salofok from the inside, and more and more of the rainbow chains were severed by the daggers.

Ivy's magic was no longer able to bind Sarovock, and she could only watch as he was drawn by some unseen force and slowly floated into the air.

Salofok's heavily armored body arched backward, like a pathetic puppet manipulated by threads. Blood seeping from his wounds gathered beneath him, reflecting another Salofok facing the crowd.

His eyes were ominous, blood-stained holes, and apart from the hempen clothes covering his body, he had nothing to offer any protection.

“This is not what I expected…” said Salafok, reflected in the pool of blood, “It shouldn’t be here, nor should it be at this time…”

“You are still alive, while the blood of everyone else has returned to me.” A blood-red light flashed in the dark, hollow eyes of the reflected Sharovok, connecting with the evil thought standing in the center of the hall. “You are my chosen one.”

"...Baal?" Although the evil thought was unwilling to believe it, there was no other possibility but Baal, the god of murder.

"Accept my gift and use it to tear this world apart." Baal's avatar did not deny it, but simply stated it in the tone that is consistent with the gods and does not allow for refusal.

"I refuse," Xie Nian said without hesitation. "I will get rid of you completely!"

"You refuse me?" The God of Murder's tone remained unchanged. He did not believe that evil thoughts had the power to refuse, just as an ant cannot resist a boot. "You are my offspring, and my sinful blood flows in your veins."

“You are my creation, your life is mine, and all of you is mine,” Baal declared calmly. “Accepting my gifts is merely a nicer way of saying it.”

Without any warning, the filthy blood that permeated the entire Murder Tribunal suddenly boiled over, and multiple tentacles formed from congealed blood shot out, grabbing the limbs of the evil thought and binding her in the air in a "T" shape.

“Your mission is to conquer, to devour,” Baal said calmly. “You will be a good child. Embrace your destiny, evil thoughts.”

"No!" The evil thought struggled fiercely. "I am not your child! I was born from a severe brain injury, delivered from the storage sac of the snail-shell ship. Those who fought alongside me are my family!"

"Help me!" The multi-functional prosthetic arm that Ivy had personally crafted fell to the ground. "Help me, Ivy! I know you can do it!"

(End of this chapter)