Chapter 200 For a Lie

This answer was not what Vivian wanted.

John saw that Vivian's expression was still in a silent sadness. He knew what Vivian felt. The revived Vivian regained the sensitive empathy like an artist.

She sympathized with the innocent people who suffered in this broken world, even if they were just strangers to the adventurers.

The warlock wanted to nip this trend in the bud, because he could imagine what would happen next.

"This is bound to happen, Vivian, it's not our fault. Morgan doesn't care about the lives of others. The sacrificial god who is obsessed with revenge on the gods will definitely lead the world to break. We have thwarted the conspiracy of the sacrificial god and prevented this disaster from affecting our world."

"We have done well enough."

Vivian nodded reluctantly and agreed with the warlock's point of view.

The shattering of the world caused the concentrated gravity to gradually dissipate. Before long, the concept of the physical level will completely disappear here. For now, John and Vivian can safely leave this high ritual platform with the help of the sin chain and jump to the building debris under their feet.

The noise of the battle attracted the attention of the two. They looked down and saw the Knights of the Round Table fighting the descending creatures of Purgatory. The huge energy released by the sacrificial ceremony once made both sides afraid to stop fighting, but after the ceremony, the demons who vented violence once again provoked a conflict.

The Knights of the Round Table, who lost the blessing of the Queen of Vanity and many Knight Lords, were much weaker than before, especially after Morgan's death, the enchanted state that enveloped the Knights of the Round Table was lifted. They no longer faced the terrifying enemy with a fanatical mental state. They are still fighting now, but just to survive.

Fighting to survive in a dark future without light.

There was a smell of despair in the roar.

Vivian couldn't help but speak again.

"John, what are they to you now?"

"Irrelevant." The Knights of the Round Table were once enemies of adventurers. Morgan's death ended their hostility. For the sorcerer, the Knights of the Round Table were just strangers without grudges.

They were being slaughtered by the devil, and the familiar colors splashed made the sorcerer add another sentence.

"Remember? In the kingdom of lies, the only truth, Cyclonfas, created all the lies. Those reversed bodies like us, they are not real. The individuals in this world are just illusions that exist because of the power of blasphemy, and they are like life because of our cognition."

"The death of truth represents the end of lies."

"They will eventually disappear, like misty dust."

The sorcerer has found a way to leave. A continuous floating fragment can allow the two to bypass the battlefield of the devil. The blood mark left by John in advance has sensed the approximate location of the rest of the companions. They are a little scattered, but they are not disturbed by the battle between the knights and the devil. It is only a matter of time to regroup.

John was about to leave, and the active divine power in the center of the battlefield made the sorcerer's heart tighten. He turned his eyes and looked at the source of the divine power.

An old man with gray hair and beard, his hands clenched into fists, pressing a dagger inserted in his chest. The crimson power blew his dirty priest robe, and the meager divine power was like a fire that was about to burn out. The mouth moved, whispering something, and tremblingly walked towards the center, the blood-red abyss that fell.

John frowned: "A priest?"

Vivian raised her head and whispered the old priest's name.

"Mordred. A friend who saved me."

John turned his head and saw Vivian's shining eyes. He observed the old priest Mordred's actions again, continued to whisper, tightly grasped the dagger on his chest and staggered forward. John roughly analyzed Mordred's thoughts.

He was performing self-sacrifice. The priest with the Crimson Gift was immortal like John. Perhaps this sacrifice chosen by the world regarded his own survival as an unfinished sacrifice. At the cost of his own demise, he would lead the return of the gods. This was the naive idea of ​​the fanatics.

"Stupid, self-sacrifice will not revive the dead gods. You are an overconfident guy."

Vivian stared at Mordred's every move, as if observing something on his old body.

The sacrifice ceremony started.

Even though Cycloneface was dead, the rules he set were still being enforced.

Mordred clenched the dagger in front of his chest and thrust it into his body. Blood flowed from his wound and dripped onto the ground, like sparks from the collision of flints, igniting his body.

Mordred recited his last plea in pain.

"God of ritual, eternal white flame, sacrificer Cycloneface."

"Your servant, Mordred is willing to offer all the miracles in this rotten flesh."

"This is the best time to awaken... the lost..."

"My master... please save them..."

Mordred's figure was blurred by the flames, and he fell forward and fell into the abyss.

The sorcerer no longer used sarcastic words to mock this foolish believer, because in the firelight, John and Vivian found the same answer.

When the flames burned off Mordred's dirty beard and hair, the true face of the old priest finally appeared in the flames.

Although weathered and wrinkled, the familiar features still evoke associations in the sorcerer.

He had seen this face many times before, on Cyclone Fass, Galahad, and his own face.

The last believer and the blasphemous sorcerer, one who loves his god and the other who despises his master.

Mordred, the only priest of the god of ritual, the mirror inversion of the blasphemer.

"I just remembered what I forgot." Vivian covered her lips, looking for the similarities between the two vague memories, "Mordred, the taste of your blood is almost the same. The difference in aging and the influence of the crimson power interfered with my judgment, so I couldn't confirm it."

"John, even if you are imprisoned, you will be kind to others. This is the truth in your heart."

Vivian's words were in his ears, but John didn't turn his head to look at her. The sorcerer stared at the place where the old priest fell and watched the crimson power gushing out of the abyss. Mordred's sacrifice only stimulated a subtle beam of light. This was a sacrifice that was destined to fail. Even the rules could not create a sacrificial god out of thin air.

"Those who believe in the gods are doomed to perish. His fate is consistent with what I expected."

"Vivian, you are wrong. My kindness will only provide limited help when I have the ability to do so. I will not sacrifice myself for the benefit of others."

Vivian and John looked at the place where Mordred disappeared, and the two did not make eye contact.

A minute later, John heard Vivian's voice again.

"I will complete my mission."

"Become the god of blasphemy."