Limestone Town

The ghouls had taken over the small building that once belonged to the town’s mayor, the Fire Bearer. At the far end of the gathering sat the former mayor and his family, now ghouls themselves.

They still resembled ordinary people, yet their pale faces and faintly glowing red eyes betrayed their transformation.

Bang!

Pushing the door open, Akmanmon stepped out.

His disheveled look was gone, replaced by fresh clothes and neatly combed hair. The instability that had marked his face from his earlier loss of control had faded, returning to his usual stoic expression.

In the dimly lit hall, the faintly glowing red eyes of countless ghouls rose to fix their unsettling gaze on their master.

“Your Majesty.”

“Master!”

Akmanmon spoke calmly. “We are returning to the Red Earth Territory.”

Kurmis appeared confined to the pyramid, but Akmanmon still feared he possessed other methods.

For example, Kurmis had recently attached a simple seed to the Lizard Person. This was a clear illustration that an apostle’s methods were far beyond those of an ordinary Ability User.

The old ghoul at the front seemed to understand. His face lit up with excitement as he looked at Akmanmon, his hands instinctively clasping together.

“Your Majesty, does this mean the plan has already come to fruition?”

It was clear the old ghoul understood the purpose behind Akmanmon’s journey and the goals he aimed to achieve.

Akmanmon did not respond. He simply turned and walked outside.

“Let us move out.”

Akmanmon led the ghouls out of Limestone Town under the guise of a simple merchant caravan.

Shortly after Akmanmon departed, Anu and his Lizard People arrived in Limestone Town. They were, however, a step too late.

“The Fire Bearer is gone?”

“And a merchant caravan left in the middle of the night?”

Refusing to give up, Anu led his people to follow the strange caravan’s trail.

At first, the tracks led north. But after following them for some distance, the Lizard People found the trail had vanished completely.

Studying the faint traces on the ground, Anu muttered, “They’re covering their tracks well. It looks like those cannibals learned their lesson from Mooneclipse City.”

The Lizard People were filled with a fury that had no outlet.

“So we’re just letting him get away like this?”

“Our companions can’t have died for nothing.”

“He has to pay for what he’s done.”

Anu glanced at the others, his voice firm. “This isn’t over. Those man-eating monsters have enemies everywhere. Even the gods won’t tolerate them.”

“They can skulk in the shadows for as long as they want. But the moment they step into the light, their end is already written.”

Anu sent most of the Lizard People back to the village. Taking two others with him, he set off for another destination to carry out the task Kurmis had assigned.

“We’re going to the City of Fire Protection.”

Cloaked and concealed, the three Lizard People made their way toward Suinhor, the capital city.

During his journey back to the Red Earth Territory, Akmanmon’s luxurious and spacious carriage was equipped with a table and a row of shelves. These shelves held several books he always kept close at hand.

Akmanmon took out several artifacts, transforming them into a temporary barrier.

Inside the carriage, he reflected on all he had gained from the journey. He carefully separated images from his memories, creating projections that he watched over and over again.

The pyramid, the potions, the murals, the golden jars. The moment he controlled countless vines, gathering them into a giant Feathered Serpent Divine Grace Puppet.

One image appeared after another.

Akmanmon observed intently, writing feverishly within the barrier.

At times, he would pause to carry out experiments, trying different approaches.

He was fully engrossed, as if nothing in the world could distract him from his work.

Akmanmon also felt a deep sense of crisis, stemming not only from the madness relentlessly eroding his rationality from within, but also from the pressures of external forces.

The incident caused by Suero in the past had been both immense and terrifying.

With ghouls reappearing on Ruhe Beast Island, they would inevitably draw attention.

This attention would come not only from the mortal realm, but perhaps from the divine beings themselves.

Akmanmon had to race against time to seize his fleeting chance of survival.

All along, Akmanmon had tried to avoid the situation Suero once faced, that final moment when no options remained.

But now, he realized his own circumstances were strikingly similar to Suero’s.

“Why do you always think you have a choice?”

Only now did Akmanmon fully grasp the meaning behind Suero’s words.

“Carving out your own path when there is no choice… that is what defines a true powerhouse.”

Akmanmon lowered his head, his pen pressing down hard on the paper. He was still for a moment, then let out a deep breath and resumed writing.

“Fourth-Rank Divine Technique involves condensing three elements into a God’s Grace Stone. The steps that follow can be modified.”

“They can be tailored based on the Abyss Art of God’s Grace, allowing one to choose their own path as an apostle.”

This was an insight Akmanmon had gained during his journey to the Feathered Serpent’s pyramid.

Akmanmon retrieved the Abyss Art of God’s Grace from the shelf. He opened it and carefully marked the three elements.

“Seal Imprint, Divine Blood, Spirit.”

Ghouls were born from the Plague Blood Curse, and the very same curse was the Seal Imprint Akmanmon had condensed.

However, this presented a significant issue.

The core of the Plague Blood Curse was the Cannibal’s Curse, which the Lord of Purgatory had placed on those who violated the taboo.

If Akmanmon used it to become an apostle, he would only sink deeper into Purgatory. Only the power of the Abyss kept him from falling completely.

He was walking a fine line between Purgatory and the Abyss, with no solid ground beneath him.

It seemed inevitable that he would eventually fall into one or the other.

But now, Akmanmon sought a different path. He refused to be consumed by the flames of Purgatory or swallowed by the shadows of the Abyss.

In truth, he could have become an apostle long ago. Only his hesitation had held him back.

Fortunately, he had taken extensive precautions. He had also developed numerous ideas about achieving mythhood and gathered significant knowledge about the power of divine beings.

“I must change the Seal Imprint.”

“I cannot condense the mythical organ using the method described in the Abyss Art of God’s Grace. This part is flawed. It contains traps laid by the Evil God of the Abyss.”

Akmanmon immediately recalled his earlier idea.

He considered channeling the ghouls’ obsession with eternal life and their fixation on death. By imitating the Lord of Purgatory’s method, he could condense this power into a covenant, something akin to the Cannibal’s Curse.

Akmanmon reflected on this possibility.

If he used the power of this covenant to replace the curse and condense the Plague Blood Curse, what kind of apostle would he become?

If he then used this covenant to make an oath to the Crown of Wisdom and turn it into an eternal Race Covenant, what would that become?

Akmanmon resolved to take the first step.

He decided to create an item akin to the alchemist’s Lamp of Covenant or the witch spirit’s Book of the Witch Spirit.

This item would absorb the obsessions of the ghouls and become a vessel for the covenant.

It would serve as the foundation for his next series of plans and a critical step on his journey.

Akmanmon filled his notebook, working tirelessly and barely pausing for sleep or rest. He organized all the information he had gathered from Suero, the Abyss, and the Feathered Serpent Kurmis.

Facing one crisis after another pushed Akmanmon to his limit.

Instead of fear, he felt a sharp clarity of mind. Many things became easier to understand.

He not only finalized his plans for the future but also integrated everything he had previously learned and considered.

“First Plan: Apostle.”

“Create an artifact that serves as the core to consume the wills and spirits of ghouls and those who long for eternal life. This will ultimately form an obsession spirit centered on eternal life and immortality.”

“Absorb this obsession to condense a new Plague Blood Curse, which can then be used to become an apostle.”

Akmanmon then proceeded to outline his second plan.

“Second Plan: Race.”

To make an oath to the Crown of Wisdom, one needed to have a race under their control and command.

This was the power Akmanmon aspired to wield in the future, and it was also the path he intended to follow.

However, another question arose.

Could ghouls truly be considered a race?

Although Akmanmon had not been able to obtain Kurmis’s method of creating the Brown Ball Vine and Lizard People on this journey, the way Kurmis created potions and mutated beasts inspired him with a completely new idea.

“If a race is defined by bloodline, would monsters be considered a race?”

“Do Abyss Races qualify as a race? Do they have their own distinct bloodlines?”

As he pondered this, Akmanmon felt as though he had found an answer.

“So, the concept of race in the Crown of Wisdom’s covenant might refer to a group that can distinguish itself from other intelligent species and independently reproduce and preserve its legacy.”

“Is it possible for me to transform ghouls into a race similar to monsters or Abyss Races?”

Akmanmon wrote, “I can create an artifact similar to what Kurmis made. By using this artifact as the core, I can establish a race that does not rely on bloodlines and instead uses the Plague Blood Curse for inheritance and reproduction.”

“No, wait. I can directly use the artifact from the First Plan: Apostle, which collects obsessions and carries the covenant.”

“That would be ideal!”

As Akmanmon wrote, he called forth the Plague Blood Curse from within his body.

The Plague Blood Curse was dark and grotesque, radiating an ominous energy. It resembled a writhing cluster of insects, each movement unsettling to behold.

This sight sparked Akmanmon’s imagination. He observed the Plague Blood Curse intently and began to write.

“I can use this artifact that carries and collects obsessions to sense and locate those who, at the moment of death, are consumed by regret and a longing for eternal life rooted in their obsessions and curse-like power.”

“After their death, it will merge with their spirits and desires, giving rise to new Plague Blood Curse seeds.”

“These seeds will eventually develop into an extraordinary form of primitive life that, similar to monsters, does not rely on bloodlines.”

Inspired by the form of the Plague Blood Curse, Akmanmon connected it to an idea and wrote, “Perhaps it could take the form of an insect.”

“This insect would lack intelligence, but it could consume the Wisdom Blood within corpses and gradually develop.”

“In the end, it would give rise to a new consciousness, taking control of the corpse and transforming it into a new ghoul.”

Akmanmon’s pen moved swiftly across the page as his vision for the final form of the ghouls took shape, becoming more vivid and detailed with each stroke.

“Whether they are Winged People, Lizard People, or Snake People, anyone connected to this artifact will give birth to Cannibal Insects after death.”

“Even the corpses of animals may give rise to Cannibal Insects.”

“However, the Cannibal Insects born within animal bodies lack potential. They cannot quickly develop intelligence and continue evolving like other Cannibal Insects.”

“But as long as life exists and death persists, ghouls will endure forever.”

“Ghouls do not rely on bloodlines for inheritance. Instead, they depend on the seeds of the Plague Blood Curse for reproduction. They are like a living curse.”

A sense of satisfaction filled Akmanmon as he wrote. He had not created an entirely new bloodline species, but he had envisioned a completely new extraordinary race, one similar to monsters.

Akmanmon believed that this new type of ghoul was more refined and aligned with his vision.

Having outlined his plan to become an apostle, prepared a method for collecting Divine Blood, and detailed his future path to power, Akmanmon finally wrote down his ultimate goal.

“Third Plan: Deity.”

Akmanmon paused for a long time. After much thought and careful consideration, he finally wrote down three terms.

“Pyramid?”

“Ritual?”

“Divine Artifact?”

The question marks he added after each word reflected his deep uncertainty.

This part of the plan was the most challenging for Akmanmon. He simply lacked the information to fully grasp it.

“Kurmis merged himself with an artifact, then he created potion plants and mutated beasts.”

“He instructed the Lizard People to cultivate and harvest the potions and the crystals that formed within the mutated beasts. In the end, he accepted sacrifices to gather Divine Blood, using this approach to amass a significant amount in his pursuit of godhood.”

Akmanmon could understand these processes. He realized he was capable of replicating them himself.

However, Akmanmon hesitated, encountering a perplexing problem he could not resolve.

“Despite absorbing so much Divine Blood from different species, why hasn’t Kurmis succumbed to madness?”

“How did Kurmis manage to avoid the madness and backlash caused by consuming Divine Blood from different species?”

“If he could not avoid it, would he not have completely turned himself into an artifact, losing all traces of consciousness and existence?”

The path Akmanmon had witnessed from Kurmis was the path of becoming a Mythical Artifact.

Kurmis, however, had not chosen to become a Mythical Artifact. His goal was to create a Mythical Artifact that would act as a stepping stone for seizing the Authority of Spirituality.

Akmanmon, unaware of this, believed this entire method to be the orthodox path to godhood.

From the very beginning, Akmanmon had no way to pursue the path of becoming a demigod. The Divine Blood within his body had been polluted for a long time, leaving him with no other fate but to become an artifact.

Even so, he was missing the most crucial element.

The Four-Part Secret Technique of God’s Grace.

This secret technique, originating from Anhofus and the Royal Bloodline Samo family, was the only way to create a Mythical Artifact without succumbing to madness.

Akmanmon lacked this method, and at this moment, he found himself trapped in a dead end.

He understood that the secret technique for becoming a god within this system could not be unraveled through ordinary wisdom alone.

It required the accumulation of knowledge over generations, with geniuses building upon the successes of those who came before them.

“What should I do?”

“How can I solve this problem?”

Akmanmon could not find a solution. He had no idea where to even start.

Inside the carriage, Akmanmon wrestled with this dilemma endlessly. His appearance grew increasingly gaunt. By the end, he looked so frail and thin that he resembled a lifeless corpse.

“Should I take the risk?”

“But in the end, taking the risk will only lead to failure.”

“No, this is a risk that will absolutely fail. It has no purpose.”

On this day, the constantly advancing caravan came to a stop.

It was not yet dark, and they had not reached their destination, Red Earth City.

Inside the carriage, Akmanmon remained oblivious to the events outside. His mind was consumed with finding a solution to the problem of madness and discovering a way to truly ascend to divinity.

The old ghoul gently pulled aside the carriage curtain and knelt respectfully just outside.

“Your Majesty.”

Akmanmon, looking haggard and worn, turned his gaze toward the old ghoul.

“Did I not give orders not to be disturbed?”

The old ghoul replied, “There is a cavalry unit ahead, plundering a village. They are blocking our path.”

Small-scale conflicts had been breaking out frequently between the Red Earth Territory and Delanvos Territory. These incidents often took place in the border areas where plundering and killings seemed to happen without end.

Most soldiers joined the war with the goal of getting rich. Instead of focusing on actual warfare, they were more drawn to looting villages and towns.

Akmanmon said, “Pay them no mind. We will pass through once they have finished.”

The group obeyed the order and waited until the chaos subsided before resuming their journey.

As the merchant caravan moved through the village road ahead, they found no signs of life. The women and children had been taken, and all the property had been thoroughly looted.

The soldiers, in their arrogance, had set the houses ablaze. Inside, charred corpses lay as grim evidence. It was impossible to tell whether they had been burned after death or had perished while trapped inside, consumed by the flames.

Sitting in the carriage, Akmanmon caught the smell of burning mixed with the heavy scent of blood.

He stepped down from the carriage. Corpses were scattered across the village road. Beside it, houses burned, sending roaring flames and thick black smoke into the air.

Having witnessed death countless times, his face remained devoid of emotion as he spoke in a calm, measured tone.

“Plundering each other. Slaughtering each other. Devouring each other.”

“It seems that within every person, there lies a hidden ghoul.”

Akmanmon was about to turn and leave when a “corpse” on the road stirred unexpectedly.

He glanced over and saw that it was a young male Snake Person who was still clinging to life.

Judging by his condition, though, it was clear he did not have much time left.

The man lay on the ground, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

His eyes stared at the sky, his lips trembling as if trying to form words.

Akmanmon’s curiosity was piqued. He wanted to know what someone might say in their final moments.

He leaned in closer, straining to catch the faint sounds escaping the man’s lips.

“Gods!”

“Supreme Creator!”

“Life Sovereign…”

“Please… please… guide me to Your kingdom…”

The man spoke his final words, his voice fading until he drew his last breath, his eyes fixed and unblinking.

In that moment, Akmanmon felt an intangible presence leave the body, as if it were moving toward another realm.

He could not see it, but he could sense it faintly.

It was a sensation familiar to every powerful Ability User, a change they could sense but could neither touch nor prevent.

This was a law set by the Creator, a grace safeguarded by the Dream Sovereign.

Akmanmon was well aware of this myth, a legend that had been passed down since the dawn of the era.

“The beautiful dream of life.”

“A law established by the Supreme Divine Being.”

“All wisdom shall return to the Kingdom of God, the eternal Dream Starry Sea.”

Akmanmon had seen a similar painting in the past.

It depicted King Smerkel of Suinhor, guided by the God Iva, as he journeyed through the Dream Starry Sea and encountered his departed old friend.

Thinking of this, a flicker of realization crossed Akmanmon’s weary face. Trapped in a dead end, he suddenly felt as though he had discovered a breakthrough.

He returned to the carriage, retrieved the projection artifact, and activated it to display the scenes he had witnessed inside the Feathered Serpent’s pyramid.

One by one, he examined the murals from the castle hall, eventually pausing on one in particular.

In the mural, a massive passage opened in the sky, leading directly to the Dream Realm, which the Snake People believed to be the Kingdom of God.

A white mythological door was faintly visible within the passage.

However, there were other elements as well.

A bubble glowing with colorful light floated in the Dream Realm. Inside, a stone tablet could be seen.

From the stone tablet, two threads stretched downward toward the mortal realm, pulling at two figures.

One was the former lord of Maya City, Shana. The other figure was vague and barely recognizable as a person.

The abstract drawing made it appear like a tangled ball of threads.

The two figures seemed like marionettes being drawn toward the Dream Realm.

When Akmanmon first saw this painting, he thought it depicted two unfortunate souls who had perished in the disaster of the Evil God’s descent, much like Kurmis who had become a Feathered Serpent.

Now, however, Akmanmon felt there was something more to it.

“This is…?”

“Life Dream?”

Kurmis had simply captured the scene he had witnessed at the time, but Akmanmon discerned the deeper truth hidden within the image.

Someone had crafted their Life Dream into an artifact to manipulate and influence the mortal realm.

The descent of the Evil God and the arrival of the catastrophe did not mark the beginning. Instead, they appeared to be the final act of a carefully orchestrated plan.

The city lord, whom Kurmis had once served, seemed to be nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s game.

Perhaps he was even meant to be a sacrifice.

“It is not that Maya City suffered an undeserved disaster. Rather, everything had already been planned, everything was already determined.”

“That city lord was nothing more than a pawn, a pawn meant to prepare for the divine being’s arrival.”

Akmanmon’s usually cold expression shifted entirely.

His eyes reflected a whirlwind of emotions, a mix of shock, confusion, and an almost uncontrollable joy.

What thrilled him was not the revelation of an ancient truth, but the concept of merging a Life Dream with an artifact.

“Using a Life Dream combined with an artifact to create an extraordinary power that can influence the mortal realm from within the Dream Realm.”

“Who could have conceived of this?”

“Was it the God of Original Sin?”

“This is brilliance, a conception worthy of a god.”

“It shatters boundaries and defies conventional thought.”

Akmanmon was filled with excitement, though it eventually gave way to a deep sense of loneliness.

“Truly… incredible!”

Akmanmon felt he was also a genius, a genius no less than Suero.

But as he delved deeper into researching the secret technique of becoming a god, he began to feel the weight of mortal wisdom’s limitations.

Was it truly possible for someone to unravel that knot, which seemed like an insurmountable barrier?

Could anyone genuinely discover the path to mythology within the chaos of inevitable madness?

And those divine beings, how far had their wisdom extended? Had they already uncovered all the secrets of the world and attained the ultimate truth?

At this moment, he saw someone who dared to exploit loopholes in the laws of creation.

Placing a Life Dream as an artifact into the Kingdom of God to execute a plan that manipulated the mortal realm.

That person was the one who had truly broken free from all constraints, the one pursuing the boldest fantasies and carrying out the most daring actions.

The seemingly abrupt divine war of the past now appeared infinitely more intriguing.

Mortals were mere pawns, divine beings plotted against one another, and in the end, the Evil God of Original Sin was cast into the polluted abyss.

However, the exact truth remained a mystery, even to Akmanmon.

In that moment, though, he discovered his entire path laid out before him.

For his “Third Plan: Deity,” Akmanmon carefully wrote down his latest idea.

“I can attach my Life Dream to the artifact that carries obsessions, refining it to become part of this artifact. My memories and dreams will exist eternally within it.”

“I will die. I will lose everything. This self may even vanish.”

“But death is not the end.”

As Akmanmon wrote, he also spoke the words aloud.

“Instead… it is a new beginning.”

“I will embrace a future born from death.”

“Every ghoul will carry my memory, serving as vessels for my rebirth.”

“I will become the symbol of immortality.”

Akmanmon understood that this method was not the true path to divinity.

While it might grant him immortality, it would not allow him to attain the authority of mythology.

“But as long as I am immortal, even if I lack that method and do not possess the authority of a divine being, I can still continue to exist.”

“Furthermore, I will eventually discover that method.”

Akmanmon’s hand trembled as he wrote. His eyes were filled with an infinite longing and anticipation. It was as if he had already broken free from his cage and could almost touch that realm of freedom.

“I will break free from all constraints of this world, from the limits of the mortal realm, and from this cursed fate.”

“No one will harm me, no one will kill me, and no one will control my destiny.”

“I will achieve true freedom.”

Akmanmon put down his pen and covered his face.

He let out a mad laugh, as if he had completely lost control.

Even if this method succeeded, would Akmanmon still be himself in the end?

Everything would disperse, leaving behind only memories and dreams that would replicate endlessly.

It would be no different from what happened to Shana and Camon in the past.

But Akmanmon appeared to have no other path, just as Suero had expressed in those words.

“This world often offers no choice.”