Chapter 1419: Soul-Reviving Corpses

[What is it that you truly want?]

A voice echoed in his mind, distorted and unclear, bearing a sense of familiarity, yet difficult to distinguish from memory.

[No matter who it is, to survive till now, it must be driven by some force that keeps them moving forward. So, you who call yourself Sainy Loter, what exactly drives you?]

The question reverberated.

[Think carefully, is it the anger from the Night of the Holy Arrival? Yes, the loyal Demon Hunters were betrayed like this; everyone vanished in the blazing fire of that night, leaving you alone to survive and continue to this day. What you want is the truth, isn’t it? Then you’ve already obtained the truth; now, what is it that drives you?]

The voice gradually cleared, filled with a sinister magic power. The new Pope seemed to recall whose voice it was, but he kept his eyes shut, neither speaking nor moving.

As always, the new Pope was kneeling at the edge of the Well of Ascension, several sharp Nail Swords laid beside him, emanating a cold, chilling glow.

In front of him was a pitch-black deep well, the darkness seemingly solid, like charred rotten wood, continuously oozing black, granulated smoke.

They rose like mist, with the murals on the well wall as markers, clearly showing that the darkness had risen considerably, as if soon they would overflow from the well mouth, spreading over this sacred land.

“Shut up.”

He spoke, his voice hoarse.

The fire from the Night of the Holy Arrival had left him disfigured, his voice also turned twisted, like a broken blower, carrying sharp hoarseness.

Yet the voice in his mind laughed mockingly, questioning.

[Is that really so? I think you are very confused too; now, what exactly are you fighting for?]

The voice seemed to transcend the unreal, conveying into reality, sketching a familiar face in the new Pope’s mind.

The new Pope realized whose voice it was.

The evil ghost haunting his nightmares finally revealed its original terrifying visage.

It was him.

The voice of Sainy Loter, the voice before he was scarred by the fire.

He opened his eyes, the familiar face appeared before him, as if staring into a mirror.

The new Pope was momentarily lost, then resignedly accepted everything, smiling bitterly.

“Has it been so long already?”

He shook his head, reached out his hand to caress the cold mask on his face.

“So long that I’ve forgotten my original self.”

Forcibly removing the mask, the face beneath, covered in scars and burns, resembling that of an evil ghost, looked back at the mirrored self, now the new Pope seemed like a true demon.

“So why are you moving forward now?”

The other self leaned closer, this time the voice came directly from his ear, freed from the constraints of unreal.

“For… what?”

The new Pope grasped the mask in his hand, the metallic sheen reflecting his face, yet the protrusions and curves distorted the face again.

“Yes, for what? If there isn’t even a reason, why do you still stay here?”

It extended its hand, gently placing it on the new Pope’s shoulder with a friendly gesture.

“Why not leave?”

“Leave?”

Looking at his former self, then at the almost shattered Static Holy Temple, the new Pope pondered.

“If I leave here, where would I go?”

“Anywhere, you could absolutely start another kind of life, begin another entirely new journey.”

It tempted.

“Don’t you long for it? You could live like a normal person, yet you are trapped by the cursed Secret Blood on this sinful land. Your lifetime of devotion served merely endless falseness. No God, no redemption, nor any so-called Celestial Kingdom. Dead is dead, so cold and cruel, don’t you feel heartbroken by such facts?”

It extended its hand, cradling the new Pope’s horrifying face, gently stroking those scars.

“You could become someone else entirely—a painter, a writer, a navigator… Without the Secret Blood, you should have had many more choices… How many marvels have you missed, don’t you regret it?”

“Regret…”

The new Pope’s eyes trembled, indeed as it stated, he had missed too much, a life battling without much rest.

Looking upward at this dim everything, the new Pope couldn’t even remember when he last left here.

When did everything turn into this…?

His body began to tremble slightly.

Indeed.

How long hasn’t he seen that pure blue sky?

“Look, you don’t care about the so-called Order, nor the so-called Church. This millennia-old honor means nothing to you… then, in your heart, there must be something more invaluable? Why not consider it for yourself? Even if just for you, leave here.”

Leave… leave, leave!

The new Pope’s eyes fell, then emitted hoarse laughter, sinister like a frenzied creature, while it too smiled contently, seemingly happy at its successful temptation, or truly blessing the new Pope.