This was a vast underground space.

Legends said this underground space came into existence when the Earth Witch called forth the Divine Tree in Mooneclipse City to stand against the King of Wrath from the Abyss.

Now, it served as the new headquarters for the Cannibal Cult.

The new headquarters was much larger than before. Hidden passages stretched in every direction, connecting to various parts of Mooneclipse City.

The Cannibal Cult itself had also become far more powerful.

In a short time, the cult’s membership had grown dozens of times over, with many prominent figures from the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents secretly joining.

In the dark, dripping underground cave, many cloaked Snake People moved back and forth. Their expressions were grim and terrifying, devoid of any warmth. They looked like lifeless, walking corpses.

A masked man walked down from a passage above. The Cannibal Cult members guarding the entrance immediately came forward to greet him.

“Second-in-command,” one of the guards said.

The masked man’s voice was cold and steady. “Where is the Chief?”

“The Chief is waiting for you inside,” the guard replied.

“Is everything prepared?” the masked man asked.

“Yes,” came the response. “Everything is ready.”

The masked man was Akmanmon.

Suero had strongly promoted him, officially making him the second most powerful figure in the Cannibal Cult. The cult needed a person with his status and influence in the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents.

Beyond this, Akmanmon’s thirst for power and spirit of exploration matched Suero’s own. Suero felt they were the same kind of person.

During this time, Suero and Akmanmon had conducted various experiments on curses, using Cannibal Cult members as test subjects in their relentless pursuit of answers.

They discovered that anyone who tried to become an Ability User through the Cannibal Cult rituals would inevitably meet a terrible end.

Some went completely mad, their own minds influenced and distorted by the remnants of Wisdom Divine Blood they devoured from others.

The more rituals they performed, the closer they came to insanity.

Reducing the number of rituals and devouring a sufficiently powerful being each time seemed to avoid this problem.

But it was not so simple.

Some devoured Mythical Bloodlines that were too powerful, only to be devoured by those bloodlines in return.

Their consciousness would become completely trapped within the Mythical Blood. They fell into an endless abyss of darkness, unable to escape. Over time, these living beings transformed into Divine Artifacts that carried deeply harmful effects.

Other individuals gained power and chose to stop performing the Cannibal Cult rituals. They believed this would allow them to evade the curse of the Lord of Purgatory.

The results revealed the truth. It was nothing more than a futile illusion.

Akmanmon had arrived today to witness the very scene Suero had once described: a person falling into Purgatory.

Someone’s will had finally failed to withstand the curse. They had received the summons of the Lord of Purgatory and were about to be dragged into that fiercely burning Star of Death.

In the underground cave, Suero and Akmanmon stood beneath a stone pillar. A person tied to the pillar howled wildly, their cries echoing through the damp, dark space.

The person, trembling with fear, seemed to see something horrifying.

“Fire!”

“Such a big fire!”

“Don’t come near!”

“Spare me! Spare me!”

It was a terrifying sight, making one wonder what he was actually seeing.

The other Cannibal Cult members standing around were already sweating profusely just from watching.

It reminded them of their own fate. They knew that perhaps, in the near future, they would become just like him.

Suero glanced up as Akmanmon approached. “You’re here.”

Akmanmon studied him for a moment. “You don’t look worried. Your own curse can’t hold off for much longer. Aren’t you afraid of being dragged into Purgatory?”

Suero’s voice was steady, almost too calm. “Afraid? I’m terrified. Can’t you tell?”

Akmanmon raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Suero turned to him, a hint of irritation flickering across his face.

“You are terrible at reading people,” he muttered, but then pressed on. “Fear is my fuel. It doesn’t break me. It drives me. The greater the fear, the stronger I become. Nothing can stop me.”

At that moment, the cannibal tied to the stone pillar began to change.

Ah!

The cannibal suddenly screamed in agony as his entire body erupted in flames.

He transformed into a burning figure, struggling against his fate.

At the same time, an even more terrifying scene unfolded.

Clank, clank, clank!

Strange sounds echoed from the void, resembling the dragging of chains, though the source remained unseen.

However, for those who were cursed, the sight was entirely different.

They saw a towering, majestic shadow appear at the intersection of the real and illusory worlds, casting chains forth from the void.

The chains wrapped tightly around the cannibal on the pillar, pulling him toward the blazing Purgatory.

The fire roared like a monstrous mouth, consuming him whole.

Horrifying sounds of chewing echoed through the cavern.

As the cannibal was dragged away, he let out one last, miserable scream.

In the end, he was powerless to escape his fate.

From the moment he committed the forbidden sin, the Lord of Purgatory had already arranged his final destination.

He would endure unimaginable torture until the day his consciousness completely dissipated, becoming just another part of Purgatory.

Many cannibals beneath the stone pillar collapsed, falling limply to the ground in terror.

“It’s Purgatory!”

“We’re done for! It’s going to devour us all, drag us all down!”

“What is that thing? What’s happening?”

Some cannibals scattered like headless flies, frantically colliding with each other before rolling on the ground in panic.

In contrast, Suero and Akmanmon kept their eyes fixed on the towering, cursed shadow, watching intently until it vanished completely.

Suero looked at the people behind him. Some were trembling in fear, while others were running away.

“Look at them,” he said with disdain. “That’s what fear does. It turns them into cowards.”

He turned to Akmanmon, who stood steady amidst the chaos.

“But you,” Suero said, his tone shifting slightly. “You have potential.”

The few cannibals who had collapsed on the ground were, without hesitation, chosen as the next test subjects.

They were like feeders, continuously offering their own kind to that horrifying monster from Purgatory.

Suero and Akmanmon had also discovered in their experiments that the stronger a person’s will and spirit, the longer they could suppress the curse.

But the curse grew and strengthened with time. Eventually, anyone would be devoured by it and fall into Purgatory.

So the two were not thinking about how to endure the curse, but how to solve it completely.

In the course of their experiments, Suero and Akmanmon stumbled upon something peculiar.

Whenever a cursed cannibal was dragged into Purgatory, the cursed shadow that appeared between reality and illusion seemed to grow stronger.

Suero tested this several times.

Through this, he vaguely discovered the true secret of the curse.

Beneath the stone pillar, he muttered in disbelief, “The curse actually originates from ourselves?”

“The curse is something emitted by people. That cursed shadow devours our spirits, continuously strengthening the curse itself.”

“For example, the curse on us must be from cannibalism, from devouring our own kind. That’s why it continuously devours cannibals to strengthen itself.”

But then, his expression turned ecstatic.

“If the curse can be strengthened, then it must also be able to be weakened.”

Akmanmon looked at Suero. “How can we weaken it?”

A manic smile spread across Suero’s face. “The curse cannot be eliminated, at least not with our current means. The only way is to transfer it.”

“Remember what I told you?”

“Plague.”

“Even back then, I already had an idea.”

Akmanmon did not speak, waiting for the other to explain himself.

Suero was a manic genius, but he also had his weaknesses, though he likely did not care about them.

Perhaps because he had been underappreciated for so long, he loved to boast about his abilities and show off his genius ideas.

“A plague is a kind of disease.”

“I’ve seen many plagues. They are a force that can be called a natural disaster. A plague has no supernatural power, yet it is more terrifying than any supernatural power.”

“And many plagues are transmitted through bodily fluids.”

“There’s one plague with an ancient medical method among physicians. They extract poisoned blood from one person and place it on another, and then the first person recovers.”

“Although I later discovered these were all the delusions of foolish physicians.”

“But in the supernatural realm, it can become a reality.”

Akmanmon looked at Suero and asked, “You want to use Divine Blood as a carrier to transfer the curse out of yourself?”

Suero suddenly turned to look at Akmanmon, and the atmosphere seemed to grow tense.

But then Suero burst into laughter. “We must be the same kind of person. You always seem to guess what I’m thinking.”

Akmanmon replied, “You already mentioned it was related to blood.”

“Ordinary blood, of course, cannot carry a curse.”

The curse, they had concluded, could not be completely eliminated. It could, however, be transferred to another host.

To do so required a carrier.

Suero chose mental power and Divine Blood for that role.

It had to be said that Suero was a technical genius.

Since establishing the Cannibal Cult, his skill in extracting Mythical Blood had become increasingly refined.

Initially, he could only extract flesh containing Mythical Blood. Later, he could purify Mythical Blood that was mixed with ordinary blood.

Now, he could precisely extract specific parts of the Mythical Blood.

This skill laid the foundation for Suero’s next experiment.

Suero’s idea was to combine the power of the cannibal curse on him with Mythical Blood to create a special, power-infused blood.

He would then use this method to transfer the curse from his body to others, letting other beings be dragged into Purgatory in his place.

In the deepest part of the cave, a high platform was surrounded by stone coffins.

On the platform, several experimenters worked over a ritual stone tablet. They repeatedly activated it, discussed the results, and redrew the ritual before activating it again.

At last, they succeeded in creating a brand that fused mental power with curse power.

That brand, combining curse and mental power, was gray. It hovered above the stone tablet, appearing misty and constantly twisting.

It seemed to be made of countless small insects that dispersed repeatedly, only to gather together again.

Suero removed his mask, his voice filled with excitement.

“Success.”

“The Plague Blood Curse.”

“We’ve succeeded. We really did it.”

He used the method of fusing imprints from when he broke through to become a Third-Rank Ability User. This allowed him to combine curse power with mental power.

Plague Blood Curse was the name he gave this brand, which could also be called an imprint of special power.

The name was inspired by plague, as it was meant to represent the characteristics that a plague should possess.

But successfully creating the Plague Blood Curse was only the first step.

The next step was clear. He had to find a way to transfer this curse to another person.

If he could not transfer it, then extracting it was meaningless. When the curse erupted, the Lord of Purgatory would still take him away.

Suero shouted commands to the cannibals below the platform.

“Quick!”

“Bring it up!”

Suero was impatient, eager not only to find a way to remove the curse but also to see his experiment and ideas succeed.

Every success proved that he was not mediocre, but a genius.

Though he lacked supernatural bloodline talent, he had wisdom and ideas far beyond ordinary people.

It was as if he were silently telling those who had once rejected him just how exceptional he truly was, including the father who had urged him to accept mediocrity and settle for being a physician.

A Snake Person in a deep sleep was carried up and placed on the stone table.

This appeared to be a beggar, a figure who wandered the edge of the city. His disappearance would not be noticed by anyone.

Suero looked at Akmanmon, his assistant.

He laid out the experimental steps.

“I must refine part of his Divine Blood without harming his life. I need him alive.”

Ordinary intelligent species also carried Mythical Blood within them, which was the source of their wisdom. The Trilobite Man’s Mythical Blood originated from the King of Wisdom, while the Snake People and Winged People inherited theirs from the stone the Life Sovereign knocked off God’s Moon. In most ordinary people, however, the Mythical Blood could not manifest as mental power, leaving them without abilities.

Now Suero was stuffing the Plague Blood Curse, with its mental power characteristics, into this blood. No one knew what would happen. It was certainly unlikely to be good, possibly even more dangerous than stuffing a fireball into a living body.

But Suero was a madman, and he did not care about a beggar’s life or death.

He was solely focused on his experiment. Without hesitation, he pressed on.

“Only I can do this step. I cannot be distracted.”

“Then, the moment I extract the Divine Blood, you must place the Plague Blood Curse into it using the method I told you.”

“Finally, we’ll put his Divine Blood back inside him.”

This approach, merging imprinted mental power with Mythical Blood and releasing it at full intensity, had been tested before.

The results were always monsters, strange beings almost like Divine Artifacts.

However, Suero’s method was different. He used a living person as the material and their own Mythical Blood as the medium.

So, in the end, no one could predict what might emerge.

As the experiment proceeded, all steps were successfully completed.

The person on the platform appeared lifeless. There was no sign of breath.

Just as everyone thought the experiment had failed…

Thump, thump, thump, thump!

Suddenly, the person moved. His body jerked uncontrollably, bouncing and convulsing against the stone platform.

Strange changes began to appear on his body. Dense rashes erupted across his skin, and something seemed to be crawling and moving just beneath the surface.

Then his skin took on the appearance of limestone, becoming hard and thick.

Roar!

After struggling for a long time, the corpse flipped over and rose, letting out an angry roar.

He moved, unleashing an extremely powerful force from his body.

Suero had transferred all of the curse on himself to that imprint, causing the imprint’s power to be somewhat unexpected.

The subject unleashed a surge of powerful mental energy, overturning the stone platform.

The experimenters on the platform quickly scattered in all directions.

They stood frozen as the experimental subject broke free from his chains. He raised his hands and began destroying the stone coffins one by one.

He tore apart the corpses in those coffins and devoured them.

Suero observed him closely. “He possesses supernatural power of this magnitude, yet his wisdom appears to be entirely erased. Furthermore, his physical body has been significantly enhanced, far beyond that of ordinary individuals.”

Akmanmon considered this thoughtfully. “When the curse and mental power merge, could it ultimately result in the destruction of wisdom itself?”

“Or perhaps there is a fundamental and direct connection between mental power and wisdom?”

After following Suero for some time, he had apparently learned this experimental perspective, constantly observing every detail of the experiment.

The experimental subject looked increasingly frenzied, furiously attacking everything around him. He seemed to have a strong desire to feed, but that desire was not directed at food.

It was directed at beings with wisdom bloodlines, including the corpses in the stone coffins.

He lost more control with every corpse he ate.

Then, roaring flames burst from the experimental subject’s body, engulfing him in a fiery blaze.

In the midst of it all, a gateway to another world seemed to appear.

Everyone felt a scorching heat in the dark underground cave.

Clank, clank, clank!

They heard the sound of dragging chains again as that shadow returned to claim the burning figure.

Amidst roars and howls, the creature simply vanished into thin air.

All the cannibals who watched the terrifying cursed shadow drag away the experimental subject were shaking with fear.

On the platform, Cult Chief Suero and Second-in-Command Akmanmon remained unusually composed. They stepped closer, scrutinizing the cursed shadow with great care.

After observing for a long time, Suero finally burst into laughter.

He turned to Akmanmon. “Do you understand what this means?”

“I have succeeded.”

He had truly created a method to transfer the curse.

At the same time, there was an unexpected bonus. He had used this curse power to create a monster with supernatural abilities.

“We can transfer the curse from our bodies through blood, and we can even create these supernatural monsters.”

Suero had just achieved a significant breakthrough. His mind quickly turned to another idea he could put into action.

“But I transferred too much of the curse just now. It reached a critical point.”

“If we can control it, perhaps we could create servants with supernatural powers that we can command.”

Suero had just uncovered a loophole in the curse.

Though it could not be called breaking the cannibal curse. That curse power still existed, still dragging people into Purgatory.

Moreover, this transfer method was not something ordinary cannibals could use. The threshold for using imprint power was Third-Rank.

But for now, this curse could not easily claim Suero, the one responsible for it all.

The Lord of Purgatory probably had not expected that among the cursed, there would be such a person.

After being cursed, he had begun exploiting the curse’s power, following the trail of the Lord of Purgatory’s power to this very moment.

Suero walked to where the flames had left their mark, looking at the traces left by the one who was taken to Purgatory in his place.

He seemed to have shed a heavy burden. He covered his face for a moment, then burst into laughter.

Hahahahaha.

“Did you see?”

“I broke the fate set for us by the Lord of Purgatory.”

Akmanmon said, “It’s possible the Lord of Purgatory is indifferent to who is taken into Purgatory.”

“As long as someone is claimed, that may fulfill His purpose.”

Suero spread his hands. “Who cares!”

“As long as it’s not me being taken, it’s fine.”

Akmanmon looked at Suero, thinking to himself.

“The method to transfer the curse requires Third-Rank. I am still short.”

Suero left the underground cave, now at ease, and appeared in a rather luxurious mansion.

He changed out of his cloak and into a proper set of clothes.

The servants in the mansion prepared food for him, and he enjoyed it like a nobleman.

In addition to leading the Cannibal Cult, he was known in his daily life as a respected physician in Mooneclipse City. He had even risen to the position of court physician.

To ordinary people, he was a prominent figure in high society. They could never have imagined that this seemingly prestigious physician was, in private, a complete madman.

While enjoying dinner, Suero was still thinking about the day’s experiment.

Once a curse locked onto someone, it would grow stronger over time. Suero could not fully resolve the curse cast by the Lord of Purgatory through the Dream Realm. He could only transfer the curse out repeatedly.

The frenzied monsters created by transferring the curse, born through the Plague Blood Curse, appeared to be highly useful servants. They possessed supernatural powers that made them formidable tools.

Suero thought about how to control and strengthen these monsters.

He also thought about what name to give them.

“What should I call them?”

Suero had a flash of inspiration. “Ghoul?”

Suero put down his utensils, smiling.

“That’s right!”

“I have decided to call them Ghouls.”

“In the future, my name will be known by all, alongside theirs.”

Suero seemed to care about such recognition. Just thinking about his experimental achievements brought a pleased expression to his face.

Suddenly, Suero’s smile vanished.

He abruptly stood up, his chair falling to the ground behind him.

Suero glanced at a mirror standing to the side. It was a full-length bronze mirror with a faintly gleaming surface. In the dim lamplight, the mirror reflected an unusual and unsettling scene.

The mirror’s reflection extended endlessly into darkness, like a great mouth devouring the outside world.

“What’s happening?”

Suero was stunned. He reacted immediately, trying to rush outside. Whatever was playing tricks, he first needed to put distance between himself and it.

But the moment he looked at the mirror, a powerful force locked onto him.

Suero had barely shown an intention to escape. In that instant, his consciousness was pulled into the world behind the mirror.

A mythological door filling the entire world appeared before him.

The door was a deep shade of red. It exuded an ominous and unsettling presence.

Suero appeared beneath that mythological door, so small that he could not see the top of it even when looking up.

Before the mythological door sat a glowing human figure.

But it was without a Snake Person’s tail.

It was God’s Form.

Before this figure, Suero was as tiny as an ant.

The glowing figure stared at Suero for a long time, then slowly began to clap.

Clap, clap, clap, clap!

The shadow sat, supporting its chin. Suero could see that the other was smiling.

It was an indescribably evil smile, different from his own kind of evil and willfulness. This was a lofty evil, so detached that it was hard to even call it evil.

It resembled the joyful smile of a child pouring boiling water on ants.

Suero felt ice-cold all over, suddenly unable to move.

“You’re quite good, Suero.”

The other leaned down, looking at Suero from above.

“Originally, you were not worthy of my attention, but your Plague Blood Curse is very interesting.”

“I have decided to give you a chance.”

“A chance to let you escape the control of the Lord of Purgatory.”

Suero trembled beneath the mythological door but forced himself to remain calm as he asked his first question.

“Who are you?”

The other burst into wild laughter, its voice booming with arrogance.

“I am the messenger of Original Sin, mortal.”

Suero asked his second question. “What do you want from me?”

The other bent down to look at him, the eyes within the light examining Suero as if he were a toy.

“I want to see if you have the capacity to become a King of Original Sin.”

“Do you think inventing a Plague Blood Curse allows you to escape the Lord of Purgatory’s control?”

“He just doesn’t care to look at you, or thinks it is not yet time to harvest.”

“If he decides your fruit is ripe, he can take everything from you at any time and in any place.”

That evil, willful voice came from above. “Just like I can now.”

The other seemed to admire Suero’s talent but also despised his self-satisfaction after making one small achievement.

“You think you have only violated a curse?”

“You should have discovered that besides the Lord of Purgatory’s curse, you have two other fates.”

“One is to be assimilated by the will in others’ bloodlines and become a complete madman.”

“The other is to be devoured by the power of mixed supernatural bloodlines and eventually become a Divine Artifact.”

“Power is not so easy to take, mortal.”

Suero’s momentary pride and the day’s arrogance instantly vanished. The fear of the Purgatory curse surged back into his heart.

He already knew all of this. He had been gambling that a being like the Lord of Purgatory would not notice him, would not pay attention to a mere mortal.

Who would have thought that while the Lord of Purgatory had not yet found him, the Abyss had already set its sights on him.

The shadow beneath the mythological door continued.

“I can give you a chance. You will either be taken into Purgatory to endure endless burning torture, or you will become a madman or an artifact.”

“Your other option is to choose me and become a King of Original Sin.”

Suero, being a high-ranking Ability User, certainly knew what an Abyss King was.

The Abyss or Purgatory, which would he choose?

It seemed choosing the Abyss might be better, but deep down, Suero knew this was not about choosing a side.

He knew that once he chose, he would be caught in the struggle between Purgatory and the Abyss. A character like him could be crushed to dust at any moment in their conflict.

The messenger of Original Sin seemed to see Suero’s inner doubts.

“What?”

“Are you hoping to bargain?”

“The position of Abyss King alone does not satisfy you, mortal?”

Suero looked at the being, listening to its mocking voice.

He suddenly understood something.

The other called it a choice, but in reality, it was just toying with him.

He had no choice, a fact made clear by the contemptuous title the other had given him from the beginning.

Mortal.

What would be the fate of a mortal who refused a god?

Suero answered, “I choose the Abyss.”

The shadow beneath the mythological door suddenly moved.

The other emitted a vast sound, like thunder echoing in Suero’s ears.

“Then first, you must prove that you are worthy.”

The messenger of the God of Original Sin extended its hand, a terrifying shadow covering Suero.

The Seed of Gluttony was stuffed into Suero’s body.

Suero let out a painful cry, screaming in agony in the world inside the mirror.

That pain emanated from the depths of his spirituality and consciousness, a thousand times more painful than any physical suffering.

Outside the mirror, his body began to change. It felt as though some organ within him was being infused with mythological power, altering him from the inside out.

With the seed, fragments of knowledge beyond the mortal realm surfaced in his mind.

It was the secret text of becoming an apostle.

The Art of God’s Grace.

To become the King of Original Sin, the first threshold was to become an apostle.

Suero immediately fainted, but he could still hear the other’s evil voice.

“Go!”

“Go and prove to the God of Original Sin your sin of gluttony.”

“Prove your capacity to devour everything.”

He was not the first Son of Gluttony chosen, but who knew if he would be the last.

The messenger of Original Sin, a porcelain doll, selected fallen disciples everywhere.

It stirred their desires, selecting the final “victor” from among them.