The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

Chapter 95 Plague and Flies (23) Sacrifice and Ritual

The viscount turned and walked toward the honeycomb-like niche at the edge of the ceremonial room.

His fingers swept across a row of seemingly random pottery jars, finally stopping on a simple jar made of dark brown clay without any markings.

He reached inside and took out two short swords, both with scabbards and hilts made from the same piece of dull metal.

The blade is not wide or long, about thirty centimeters, and its shape is closer to that of a sacrificial dagger or ritual implement.

The viscount gave them to George.

"Hold on tight, and don't panic later. No matter what you see, once you get my instructions, quickly and cleanly clink the middle sections of the blades of these two swords together."

His voice echoed in the empty stone chamber: "Remember, it's the middle section, use your strength."

George took the short sword with both hands. Its weight was far greater than he had expected, as if it were made of two pieces of gold rather than rusty iron.

He gripped it tightly and nodded.

The Viscount returned to the black stone slab where Frederick lay, took a deep breath, and then began to shout a prayer.

George could tell it was Latin—after all, he had spent several years studying grammar and rhetoric in public school before entering university, so he was able to understand most of it.

Although he could not fully comprehend the underlying theology or supernatural implications.

As the first syllable, Viscount, was uttered, the surrounding environment—the air, the light, even the stone walls themselves—felt inexplicably brighter, as if the world had been wiped clean of dust.

[To the sun, the hand that moves day and night, seasons and years, the most radiant god, a god who hates evil and darkness!]

The Viscount's voice rose, and he sang with fierce passion.

[To the moon, the patron of night, sleep, and dreams, the changeable light, the very nature of the spirit!]

[To His sacrifice, He reshaped sins and purified His great deeds, enabling all beings in the world to pursue His glory!]

Based on his knowledge from the book "The Analysis of Phototaxis", George knew that this was probably describing the "Trinity" before the "Holy Trinity".

Flames burn away sin, flames purify life, flames instill passion, flames illuminate truth!

The prayer itself is filled with a burning desire to rise, and the viscount's words are more like breaking the chains of Prometheus, releasing some imprisoned power.

His voice echoed in the not-so-spacious ceremony room, like fire spreading and dancing wildly in the air, or like a heavy hammer that could shatter rocks, striking the surrounding light and causing it to tremble incessantly.

George stood aside, watching this scene unfold.

The knowledge of ritual he learned from books repeatedly emphasized that ritual is an art that requires "just right" and therefore "demands precision".

However, the ritual performed by an elder who was practicing the principle of "candle" was so vivid and intense that it made his eyes, heart, and mind feel as if they were being scorched by the blazing sun.

Just then, he suddenly realized that in the increasingly dazzling light of the ritual room, there was also a cobalt blue glow.

We are devotees of light and fire, destined to reach the midday sun and summer, until we are consumed by its radiance.

The Viscount's voice rang out again, and as if in response, the stone niches around the ceremonial chamber suddenly stirred.

The once still golden bull figures silently opened their jaws. From within, pure flames erupted.

These flames, without fuel, directly ignited the already dense light in the void.

In an instant, the hall mysteriously darkened. The light and fire merged and reversed too violently, creating a temporary visual annihilation.

Immediately afterwards, the firelight tore through the darkness again, shining brightly, before fading back into darkness.

Light and fire are both separate and overlapping, stirring up the entire space into a dazzling display of light and shadow.

At the heart of this frenzied dance of light and shadow, the Viscount's movements never ceased.

George was shocked to see his hand reach directly into his body and pull out two small objects.

A cube that is entirely black, and another cube that is as blue as a deep lake.

The viscount deftly blew a breath, burning away Frederick's clothes on his chest and some of the mutated hair on his forehead.

He placed the pure black cube over his brother's heart and pressed it down with his fingers; then, he placed the azure cube firmly on his forehead.

He began to recite in a low voice in another language, which George recognized as Greek:

Through the protection of the Holy Spirit, He has delivered us from the power of darkness and brought us into His kingdom; through trials, we will be redeemed.

As soon as he finished speaking, Frederick's mutated body on the ground suddenly began to convulse violently.

The viscount's voice shifted to an almost aria-like chant, with a more rapid rhythm:

Saints replace sinners, the innocent replace the wicked, the righteous replace the unrighteous, and the immortal replace the mortal!

He lowered his hand and stopped pressing the cube.

But the two small cubes defied gravity, hovering steadily over Frederick's chest and forehead, their surfaces shimmering with a strange halo.

Then, the Viscount clearly uttered a sentence in Greek:

τπρτoπνεματοζoοσβεννυτα! 】

George's education at public school immediately taught him that this phrase meant, "The fire of the Holy Spirit is never quenched."

Before he finished speaking, the azure cube floating above Frederick's forehead suddenly shone brightly, its blue light intense.

A cluster of pure, bluish-white flames instantly flowed down from the cube, enveloping the entire head, and the mutated mosquito head beneath it burst into flames!

In the brief moment between Frederick's convulsions and his sudden, thunderous shock, the Viscount abruptly turned to look at George and pointed a finger at him.

This is the signal.

George's heart pounded, and he forced back his hatred for his brother's burning head as he raised his hands high.

Holding two short swords, he used all his strength to bring the blades together at the midpoint amidst the roaring flames and surging light.

"Zheng—!!"

An incredibly clear metallic clang instantly pierced through the noise in the ceremony room.

Those who have borne the sins have sacrificed themselves; rising from their graves, they will surely shine brightly! Victory is imminent! Victory upon victory!

The Viscount's voice followed closely, and George struck again, the sound overlapping with the prayer.

With the roaring flames all around him, George felt as if he were in the middle of a battlefield with thousands of troops.

Let me be considered nothing for the sake of the cross. This is a stumbling block to unbelievers, but to us it is salvation and eternal life.

The Viscount stood before the burning body of Frederick, chanting in a solemn yet compassionate voice as he faced the pale blue flames.

We have chosen the divine cross of the Holy Spirit's sacrifice so that we may see through temptation and delusion, resist the harm of power, cross the oceans of the world, and reach among the stars.

George sensed a final, resolute force in the Viscount's voice.

We have been revealed to Him, and we are confident that we will be able to overcome through the glory of the Lord!

In an instant, Frederick's mutated body no longer merely convulsed—he began to struggle violently, as if trying to stand up from the stone slab.

The bluish-white flames were now starting from the burning spot on his forehead, slowly spreading along his mutated neck to his entire body.