Chapter 28: Relic
"Pathetic!"
Perched steadily on Sylvia’s shoulder, Lakdevo sneered aloud.
At the same time, the Child of the Moon let out a piercing scream as his now completely illusory body began to retreat backward.
He wanted to return to the River of the Dead and withdraw—but he couldn’t.
The surrounding space had been entirely locked down by the "domain" formed by Sloth. His connection to the River of the Dead was completely severed.
"Disgraceful!"
As Lakdevo continued his mockery, the dark barrel of the gun turned once more, aiming at the direction where the Child of the Moon stood.
Not only that, Sylvia’s left hand also lifted at that moment. A hand cannon similar to the flintlock in her right hand materialized from illusion into solidity.
The muzzles of both guns pointed in different directions, and the triggers were pulled in succession—
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
Two gunshots rang out. The Child of the Moon, who had temporarily shed the shackles of Lust by turning his body into a soul state, vanished instantly from where he stood, dodging the bullets fired from the flintlock.
However, when his figure reappeared—
"Ah!"
Another blood-curdling scream followed.
The pitch-black bullet fired from Sylvia’s left-hand pistol struck his right leg at that moment!
A mixture of red and white matter, along with fragments of soul, splattered once again. The unbalanced Child of the Moon staggered to one side.
Just then—
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
Two more gunshots echoed. His left arm and left leg were hit in quick succession and exploded on the spot.
In that instant, this Apostle of the Gloomy Moon lost all his limbs and collapsed to the ground like a stick.
Meanwhile, the other Full Moon cultists remained standing where they were, eyes wide open, unable to make a sound or even move.
Seeing this, Sylvia casually tossed the two guns in her hands away, letting them dissipate into shadows.
She then took a step forward, walking toward where the Child of the Moon had fallen, and turned her head slightly to look at Lakdevo on her shoulder:
"Are Apostles of the God of Death really this weak?"
"Ahem."
The fat crow squatting on her shoulder let out a dry chuckle before explaining:
"Master, it’s not like that."
"I believe there are two reasons for his fragility. The first lies within himself:"
"From what I’ve observed, he is not an Apostle who ascended through normal means."
"The second is that our authorities and powers are built upon the foundation of the River of the Dead."
"And your divine might severed his connection to the River—doing so is practically like stripping a Radiance angel of holy light."
"Is that so?"
Sylvia responded with a noncommittal nod, then stopped beside the Child of the Moon.
At this moment, the leader of the Full Moon Sect no longer screamed. Instead, he was gasping heavily.
When he saw Sylvia approaching, his expression froze for a moment, then as if making a decision, he quickly opened his mouth:
"I am willing to submit to you, to offer you my loyalty!"
At that moment, he intended to surrender.
Because he had begun to suspect—
Damn it, had those followers of the Faceless One really succeeded?
Could those bastards have truly done something that had never happened in history—actually summoned the descent of an Outer God's true body?
To sever an Apostle of the God of Death from the River of the Dead was impossible, no matter how powerful one was.
There was only one possibility to achieve such a feat—
Suppression in terms of divine rank.
And if someone could suppress an Apostle on that level, there seemed to be only one explanation.
Of course, the possibility of the opponent using some kind of god-gifted sacred relic could not be ruled out.
But based on his earlier observations, the opponent had clearly been using her own authority and powers.
Sylvia paid no attention to his words. Instead, she turned to Lakdevo and asked:
"Hmm… what’s the general reputation of this so-called Child of the Moon? Has he done anything evil?"
Lakdevo thought for a second, then gave his answer:
"A textbook cult leader. He’s held several bloody sacrificial rituals in the Kingdom of Ulpus."
"Good."
Sylvia nodded.
She had no intention of recruiting him as a servant. She merely wanted to weigh whether to dispose of him after performing her 'surgery'.
Then, she slowly squatted down and reached out her right hand toward his head.
"Splurt!"
A sound like a watermelon bursting echoed as her clawed right hand turned illusory, radiating brilliant starlight.
The next second, Sylvia stood up slowly, the corners of her mouth lifted slightly as she looked at the twitching body that had lost its head.
Without sparing it further attention, she and Lakdevo both turned their gaze to her right palm.
There lay a deep purple eyeball, glassy like glazed crystal.
An intense aura of death emanated from it, yet at the peak of its intensity, it suddenly transformed—into a vitality so rich it was overwhelming.
Death and rebirth ebbed and surged like tides, lending this eyeball an air of the divine.
"This is a sacred relic..."
Lakdevo looked at the eyeball, his voice slightly hoarse.
But then he immediately corrected himself:
"No, it shouldn’t be called a sacred relic. It’s a *relic*."
"The right eye of the Gloomy Moon—Eye of Alternating Death and Rebirth."
Sylvia nodded thoughtfully:
"So, this so-called Child of the Moon attained Apostle-level rank through this thing?"
Then, the puppet girl’s gaze fell upon the body that had stopped twitching and was quickly decomposing.
"Yes, Master."
Lakdevo nodded.
"Very well. It’s yours."
Sylvia casually tossed the eyeball into the air.
Seeing this, Lakdevo hurriedly flew up and caught this divine relic, which meant everything to him, with his claws.
Just then, Sylvia’s slightly teasing voice rang in his ear:
"Hold on to it. That’s your price for selling yourself."
"......"
...
The fatigue from deep within her soul, and the headache that came with the looming depletion of her spirituality.
Sitting in the chair once used by the Child of the Moon, Sylvia closed her eyes, feeling the undulations of her spiritual energy.
Ten minutes.
That was the limit for her to maintain full-power output.
Once that limit was exceeded, her spirituality would no longer sustain her consumption.
Still too short—even this was after being extended.
By that estimate, her previous full-power burst could’ve only lasted about three minutes.
So what, had she become a cosmic superhuman?
Mocking herself silently, she opened her eyes and set her gaze on the fat crow, who was currently absorbing divinity from the relic of the Ancient Moon God.
At that moment, her eyes pierced through its physical shell, looking straight into the depths of its soul.
There, a bird-shaped cluster of divine light, riddled with cracks on its surface, was being slowly mended.
Hmm? Still hollow?
Sylvia tilted her head slightly, having noticed something new on her second observation.
The fat crow might be more seriously wounded than she had imagined—its divinity had been reduced to an empty shell.
What exactly had it gone through?
And what was the greatest secret atop the River of the Dead?
Once again consumed by curiosity, her heart felt as though a cat was scratching at it.
Forget it, not thinking about that now!
Feeling her spirituality recover a little, Sylvia stood up and said to Lakdevo:
"Hold off for now. We’re going back to St. Ruls Cathedral first."
Seeing the obvious reluctance and discomfort in his eyes, the puppet girl’s lips curled into a small smile.
That’s more like it. If we’re going to suffer, we’ll suffer together.