Chapter 305 Before Dawn
Tick...tick...tick...
The dripping sound of blood was like a pendulum made of death, striking Saratan's still clear consciousness.
The blood and tears had all flowed out of Saratan's aimless eyes, leaving only two dry dark red holes, staring blankly at the silent emperor above his head.
After experiencing the physical torture he had experienced, normal people rarely survived the double blow of such horrible loss of physical function and the psychological suggestion of approaching death.
But Saratan was different. He and the demon who put him on the altar knew that in order to pay for his sins, Saratan would definitely persist until the last moment before the ceremony began.
Mephisto was standing in the hall behind the curtain of the terrace of the Supreme Church at this time, his claws hidden in the wide sleeves of his robe under the disguise and suggestion of psychic energy.
In order for this plan to go smoothly in the end, it can be said that it did its best. Under the cautious disguise, even the soles of the feet were curled up aggrievedly and put into the narrow human leather boots, just waiting for the moment when the ceremony began.
The infiltration time was too short, and the souls it handled, distorted, and polluted were too few. When the Holy Scripture was about to start, it had to recall all of them to deal with the tens of millions of mortals in the entire Grace City.
With the help of the eyes of these souls, Mephisto looked at the temporary venues built around the Grace City.
It looked with pleasure at those followers who were dressed in human robes, and under the long-distorted double-headed eagle emblem, they were shouting at the top of their lungs to preach the imperial doctrine that had been adapted and distorted by it.
This infiltration of Ophelia was not a long-planned product. More than a hundred years of lurking and infiltration were just fleeting fragments in the eyes of this new demon.
But this is by no means to say that the interpretation and tampering of this conspiracy are not important.
On the contrary, Mephisto, one of the endless heirs born in the thoughts of the tampering lord every moment.
Being able to use the power of the Well of Eternity to travel through time and lurk here under the control of Carlos, the driver of the Father God, the prince of demons, and the weaver of fate, is the only chance to be named after birth.
Endless time is just ordinary in Xin Liezhi's eyes, and the same is true in the eyes of the weaver of fate who controls the Well of Eternity.
Every newborn demon prince is thrown into the gate of time and space opened by him with the power of the Well of Eternity.
In Carlos's eyes, only souls that survived the cracks of endless time are worthy of being honored by the Father God; and only the cubs who can do something to please the Father God on the basis of survival are worthy of being crowned with the title of the Lord of Change at the beginning of birth.
Ten thousand is an imaginary number, but if you can't even change once, don't mention the ability of change.
This is the watershed between the highest bloodline members of the endless demons under the command of the Lord of Change, and it is also the cruelest and coldest barrier and difference between the endless demons in Xin Liezhi's hands.
If it could be named "ever-changing" at birth, it would be ranked in the 999th place in the order of favor of the Father God;
If not, even if it survived the random throw of the Gate of Time, it would only be one of the countless nameless demons that Calvin had killed before.
Mephisto eagerly awaited the start of this grand event.
When everything is destined, or when everything is denied by a completely opposite fate, its Father God will be pleased with it and will look down upon it with favor.
Yes, even if there are arrangements and calculations, as a member of the core bloodline of the evil god, Mephisto is also prepared for failure.
Its mind has long surpassed that of mortals, and its concept of success and failure in its extraordinary perspective is not what mortals think.
It does not care about success or failure. Success is fine, the success of the conspiracy is a grand ceremony it presents to the Father God; failure is fine, as long as it is still alive, the reversal of the tampering will not damage the glory of Xin Liezhi.
As a newborn demon prince, it has not yet had its own path, and it has nothing but the simplest true name.
Whether it is a conspiracy or an accident, Mephisto does not resist, and he is also waiting for the scales of fate to make the final choice to determine the path of the Father God that it will carry out.
The celebration will start in a quarter of an hour, and it is time to see the pitiful soul trapped by the narrow view of success and failure of mortals.
Mephisto turned around with a smile, and his figure gradually disappeared into the air with silent footsteps.
"You smell so bloody... Is it because of old age?
How about we make a bet? Guess, who will win?"
Saratan heard the familiar voice of the apprentice Morpheus and knew that the demon who brought disaster came to him again.
The sudden question of the evil demon almost stopped his fragile heart, or the demon felt something was wrong and saved him.
"We... will win." Saratan said with difficulty after regaining consciousness.
At this time, he hated the tenacity of his vitality. If he could die just now, everything might be different.
"Hahahaha..." Mephisto's laughter resounded wantonly, and the inhuman side gradually tore through its fragile disguise under its indulgence.
Its inhuman voice with overlapping voices appeared again, but this time, the words it said made Saratan's consciousness unable to understand.
"No, I win, or win-win..."
Time was approaching, and the satisfied demon left Saratan, who was confused, to face his end in pain, while he himself wore Saratan's skin and appeared in the celebration with his scepter and crown.
"Only by worshipping the Emperor of God can one understand wisdom;
Only by worshipping wisdom can one be liberated;
Today, under the gaze of the Emperor of God, I will explain to you that there is great confession and great salvation..."
Morpheus's inflammatory voice came into Saratan's ears from the air outside the chapel, and he, who was nailed to death on the steps, was also recalling the demon's declaration and the conversation with Calvin.
"Thinking gives rise to doubts, and doubts give rise to heresy..."
He finally chose to believe Calvin's assurance, took a last look at the room where he had lived for nearly a century, and then gritted his teeth and bit off his tongue.
The intense pain was like an agreed key, opening the secret room hidden in his 190-year life memory.
The memory isolated by self-hypnosis reappeared, and Saratan's mind was clearer than ever before.
The several back-up plans he had prepared had indeed been carefully removed by the demon, but he still had one last preparation that the demon had not found, which was his blood itself.
He swallowed all the blood flowing from the artery on the tip of his tongue. The blood, which had already changed its composition due to the intake of drugs, instantly had a violent chemical reaction with the stomach contents!
The secret acid from the Assassin's Court corroded his stomach wall the moment it was synthesized.
The strong acid raging in his organs made Saratan twitch all over his body in pain, but a hideous smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
The heart is the heart! The intense pain made the fragile heart unable to bear the burden anymore.
And when his remaining consciousness sensed the moment when his heart stopped beating, he also sensed that the beacon that the start-up conditions were met was instantly activated.
A psychic array with the chapel as the center and quickly spreading to the entire City of Grace was starting to light up with him as the center!
Redemption is coming. We are trapped in darkness, but we don’t need to experience the light ourselves.
Faith is reward. I am lucky to be the firewood for the dawn. I will not regret it even if I die!
Feeling the beacon of psychic energy on his chest, Saratan lay in an uninhabited corner of the City of Grace, which was gradually shrouded in silver light. He died with a smile a second before the dawn.
In the Imperial Calendar, 118.756.M39, Saratan, the former supreme administrator of the Cardinal Office of the Imperial State Church in Ophelia, passed away.
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