Mystery: Survival from the Secret Doll

Chapter 298 297 Aurora Meeting

Aside from the Mother Tree of Desire, the Fallen Mother Goddess, and other great beings who have begun to interfere with the real world within the barrier, many others who took wrong paths, did wrong things, and lacked any background or sufficient strength were mostly reduced to corpses by powerful dimensional attacks during the Great Cleansing.

The investigators, wearing Miskatonic badges, based on the address provided by Mr. Flamel, entered the real world through observations in Euclidean space at the end of the examination hall, following Don's deception and Nikolai's mistake. They then began to frantically influence the extraordinary beings, sealed artifacts, and things possessing supernatural powers corresponding to these symbols.

At the same time, they went to check the gas meters of these extraordinary individuals who had fallen into a state of infant-like sleep due to the forceful cleaning, or to retrieve the corresponding corpses, collect the extraordinary characteristics from the corpses, or seal the seals that had gone out of control.

The Miskatonic University branch campuses in various countries were brightly lit all night long, and the Church of the Righteous God was also active in their respective regions among the official extraordinary individuals who had not participated in the professional ritual magic level test held by Miskatonic.

During this period, some accomplices naturally put up a stubborn resistance, but they were soon taken away along with their sealed artifacts and the gods they believed in by the investigators who came to raid their homes and the official extraordinary beings.

Next, the fate of the vast majority of these people will be to be sent to Miskatonic University and become new puppets suspended from the ceiling of the Great Hall.

In a manor villa on the outskirts of Trier, the capital of the Republic of Intis.

A graceful woman, dressed in a black court-style long dress, had her bright yet melancholic grey-black eyes reflecting the figure of a man in a black silk hat who was smiling at her from outside the bedroom window.

The Black Witch, who was in charge of Trier, the capital of Intis, bowed to the gentle-looking young man in a tailcoat by lifting the hem of her nightgown. Then she drew the curtains, walked to the bedside, and prepared to go to sleep.

Beside the bed, a skeleton statue emitted a faint, shimmering light in the darkness.

Tonight will be Christmas Eve.

From today onwards, there should no longer be any high-ranking witches in the Witch Cult, who could easily be turned into puppets and hanged upside down.

As a witch cult that has already cooperated to some extent with Miskatonic and the "mistake" in Tingen, as long as they don't do anything too outrageous, they won't become targets of annihilation and will always need the protection of the Primal Witch to avoid their fate of death.

"For them, even the ageless witch cannot escape the inevitable fate of death that they have woven for us at some point."

Clarice, the "Black Witch," let her long, black hair fall down, making this ageless witch appear gentle and irresistibly endearing.

The resurrection methods of the ageless witches are completely insufficient in the face of such a high-ranking being. In the face of the archangel who wields "error," the killing of one ageless witch is equivalent to the elimination of all ageless witches, along with all their resurrection plans.

Before this, apart from always being under the watchful eye of the Primal One, and being able to hide in the special mirror world in time of danger, entering the divine kingdom that the Primal One could provide them with the greatest protection, all their actions could lead to rapid mysticization or parasitism by the Time Worms.

Times have changed. In the face of the impending apocalypse, even the Primordial Witch has to temper her temper somewhat. Otherwise, given the current situation, those beings clearly do not want major conflicts to break the balance between the nations of the Northern Continent, leading to more unforeseen events.

The primordial witch is in trouble at this time, and the most likely outcome is that she will suffer another severe blow.

Although she didn't know what the angels with the authority to "observe" were all about, Clarice the "Black Witch" knew about the primordial witch's fear.

As the highest-ranking being in the Witch Path, the Primal Witch, though the Black Witch is unsure of her current state, is clearly in poor condition after the Pale Calamity at the end of the Fourth Age.

"Perhaps everything is related to the original plan and the Blood Emperor's arrangements..."

But at this critical juncture, the Primal One abandoned its original attempt to make a deal with the Rune royal family and the Augustus family's "Conqueror" extraordinary characteristics, and instead cooperated with "Mistake," who had always been strongly hostile to them...

Thinking of this, the Black Witch couldn't help but sigh.

"But we are all children of the beginning. Only by constantly drawing closer to Him and serving Him can we avoid death and survive the coming end times..."

The Witch Cult was sensible; knowing they had been exposed and that the other side had angels skilled in "observation," reducing the possibility of being targeted was the most sensible thing to do.

Some are sensible, while others are not.

Among those who believe in the true Creator, there are naturally those who hear the Lord's voice, become mad and irrational, and are unable to control themselves.

Before these people could suffer irreversible consequences from hearing things they shouldn't have heard, they were either hung up and made into secret puppets beforehand, or they would explode on the spot during the twice-yearly cleanup operations, turning into a pile of rotten flesh.

The Kingdom of Rune, capital city, Backlund.

Beneath Mr. A's enormous hood, a face that resembled a woman stared expressionlessly at the trembling, kneeling man in black, who was also wearing a hood and whose body was constantly emitting transparent, semi-transparent insect-like creatures.

It is obvious that this is a person who is not very sensible and has done something quite serious.

As a secretive organization that has only emerged in the last two or three hundred years, the Aurora Society has developed quite rapidly.

Although its members claimed to "listen to the Lord's teachings" and committed many terrorist acts in the past, even if they managed to escape the purge by the official extraordinary individuals and investigators, they were quickly purged by the Aurora Society's own people.

Although they believe in the "true Creator," many members do not blindly obey the true Creator's mad ramblings. They believe that the Lord is both mad and merciful, and that all those who are tempted and fall by the Lord's voice are blasphemous people who have failed the Lord's tests and have therefore fallen.

This includes not only members of the Aurora Society, but also shepherds who have turned their backs on the Lord for "blasphemy."

Despite the fact that these "blasphemers" were not members of the Aurora Society, nor were they traitors, the Aurora Society had ever publicly declared that they were not members of the Aurora Society, but rather that they had taken on all the blame and become the number one target of the persecution of the evil gods in the various countries of the Northern Continent.

If the Lord bears everything, then they should also bear everything.

Mr. A spoke calmly and unhurriedly, creating an eerie atmosphere in the somewhat dimly lit basement.

"Then why did you disobey the Lord and betray His Holiness the Pope's orders?"

"Lord... it was the Lord who told me about the sacrifice... it was the Lord who told me that He was to offer a sacrifice! It was the Lord! Mr. A! It was the Lord! The Lord told me—!"

The man's body was convulsing wildly on the ground. He was gasping for breath, his hands gripping Mr. A's clothes, tears and snot streaming down his face, begging Mr. A to save him.

“Mr. A… save me… Mr. A… save me! I am a devout believer in the Lord. I heard the Lord’s voice. The Lord told me to do this. I heard it… I heard it—!”

One after another, translucent, transparent worms crawled out of his mouth, nose, eyes, and hair, wriggling and rising to their feet, bringing a frenzied, indescribable mental pollution. Mr. A lowered his eyes. If the person lying on the ground were looking up from this perspective, he would be able to see Mr. A's cold, emotionless eyes, staring at him without blinking.

“No,” Mr. A said, swaying slightly. “This is not the voice of the Lord, nor is it what the Lord desires.”

“It is because you are not devout enough, Blake. You cannot distinguish between your evil thoughts and the voice of the Lord. You have only listened to your own desires and followed them until you have come to this point, turning your back on the Lord and disobeying His Holiness the Pope’s orders.”

“You are a blasphemer, and after doing something irreversible, you want the Lord to bear your sins. You are a sinner.”

He said, pausing between each sentence, "Therefore, you are not worthy to believe in the Lord."

"No, no, no, I heard it! I really heard it, Mr. A! I heard the voice of the Lord, Mr. A! No, no, no, no, save me, Mr. A..."

"No! I was wrong! I didn't hear it. It's all my evil and sin, Mr. A, save me, save me! I can change, I really can change..."

The man grabbed onto Mr. A's clothes and cried for help, but a huge force grabbed his neck from behind and pulled him backward.

Countless spiritual threads grew from the extraordinary member of the Aurora Society, and one after another, transparent and semi-transparent worms crawled in and out of his eyes, ears, mouth and nose.

"Um... ah..."

The person hanging in mid-air was initially struggling, kicking his legs wildly, his feet off the ground, and pulling on the silk thread around his neck that had no trace of anything.

But after only a few breaths, his expression changed from pain to calm, and his body swayed in mid-air, giving up the struggle.

He was still breathing, still had a heartbeat, and his eyes were clear, filled with the most sincere longing and faith in the Lord. He seemed to have nothing in common with the crazy man who wanted Mr. A to save him.

Meanwhile, those transparent, translucent worms had returned to the body of the devout believer, burrowing into the skin and wriggling wildly beneath it.

The man's body, suspended by thin, black threads, fell to the ground. During this process, his face continued to deform, as if countless transparent, semi-transparent worms were constantly integrating his muscles and bones, trying to reshape a completely new face.

When his feet touched the ground again, the face of the hanging believer finally stopped moving. Mr. A looked over and saw a face with features completely different from the original one.

Mr. A immediately lowered his head, glanced at it once, and then looked away.

"Your Holiness the Pope."

Do not look directly at God; that is blasphemy.

"I don't really care about that."

The newly grown face has incredibly soft features, with a natural allure that's hard to detect.

Two fleshy buds on either side of his head were constantly wriggling, as if they were trying to sprout two new heads. However, it seemed that due to the limitations of this body itself, the two heads could not grow out completely.

The man, composed of countless worms, first glanced around, then rested his chin on his hand and fixed his gaze on Mr. A in front of him:

"However, we do need to keep a close eye on those extraordinary individuals in the Aurora Society. The Prayer People and Listeners are too easily swayed by the Lord's irrational voice. If we don't want them all to be wiped out, we need to teach them how to listen to these things, Mr. A."

"Okay, as you wish."

Mr. A lowered his head and spoke calmly, without much emotion.

As one of the founders of the Aurora Society, the "Pope" of the Aurora Society nodded. He stared at Mr. A's exposed fingers for a few seconds, and then, without any intention of hiding himself, took out a monocle from the gap in history and put it in his right eye socket.

He expertly adjusted his monocle before looking up at the top of his head.

This gaze seemed to pierce through the barriers of the earth, directly seeing the astral plane composed of countless abstract concepts, and an abstract red moon.

"As expected, you're still so composed."

His Holiness the Pope grinned.

Mr. A stood quietly behind him, saying nothing.

-

Black Vortex Town, within Euclidean Space.

After leading the monster to the hospital, Klein, breathless, along with Fors and Anderson, found an empty house to rest temporarily, waiting for their bodies to recover and their spiritual well-being to return.

As a former overworked office worker, Klein had trained for nearly a month after his transmigration, but his physical condition simply couldn't keep up with such a marathon right after arriving.

"The Diviner's Potion mainly enhances inspiration. As for physical fitness, I will have to wait for the 'Clown' potion to give me a significant improvement in physical ability."

Klein rubbed his slightly sore thigh muscles and exchanged some information with Anderson and Fors in the somewhat leaky house.

"I wonder if those two types of monsters will start fighting. We blew up all those mushrooms. If they're smart enough, will they come after us?"

Fors said with some concern.

“I don’t think so.” Anderson made a rice planting gesture and laughed, “I planted a few mushrooms inside those long monsters.”

(End of this chapter)