Chapter 898: Chapter 899: Holy Child

It was as if the pool was gauging whether he was an enemy or an ally.

When it reached the Seed of Depravity, Damon felt a monstrous killing intent rise toward him. It was vast, ancient, and absolute. Before it could intensify further, however, the pool seemed to notice the Divine Spark.

Then everything went still.

A silence followed, one that felt as though it stretched on endlessly, even though Damon knew it had only been a brief moment.

This Divine Spark had come from Lazarak. Oddly enough, it was one of the only things that had returned with Damon from that nightmare.

The Divine Spark that had once belonged to Lazarak, the God of Darkness.

What it truly did, Damon did not know. All he knew was that whenever he tried to probe it, the Seed of Depravity would viciously pull at it. When that happened, Damon would be subjected to intense pain as the seed shaved away the spark’s mysterious power.

Now, however, the pool’s divine energy began to feed the spark.

What had once been a tiny, nearly invisible flicker began to swell and grow. Damon could feel it expanding.

At the same time, he gasped.

An overwhelming burst of pain tore through his body, ripping at his flesh, his soul, and even his heart. His magic circuits swelled, becoming stronger and more refined. His flesh hardened and strengthened, his aura expanded, and his pale skin took on a faint rosy hue, as if he were being refined into something closer to perfection.

Closer to what a perfect being should be.

Damon did not know how much time had passed. All he knew was that the pain was immense and that it was growing worse.

The Divine Spark had grown, and now it began to encroach upon the regions of his heart ruled by the Seed of Depravity.

The moment the two forces collided, blood sprayed from Damon’s mouth as the agony forced a cry from his throat.

Even so, that was only the beginning.

The two forces contradicted one another completely. They could not coexist within the same place of being. One had to be eradicated, or Damon would die.

There was no middle ground.

One represented the path of a demon.

The other represented divinity.

These were transcendent forces that refused coexistence.

Light and dark.

Amid the pain, Damon felt a strange clarity. Perhaps it was his mind’s attempt to detach from the suffering. In that fragile lucidity, a question surfaced.

How could the Unknown God possess both?

Was he also enduring this pain? Or had he discovered a way to fuse two sources of extreme power together?

He truly was Unknown.

A singular existence.

The Demon God.

Damon knew he had to act quickly, or die.

At this point, the pool was healing him as fast as it could, but his body continued to crack and shatter. Blood soaked into the pool, only to be forcibly returned to his body. He was trapped in a cycle of birth and destruction happening simultaneously.

The moment it stopped, he would explode and die.

Lazarak had given him this Divine Spark, but why, Damon did not know.

As for why the pool had recognized him, Damon had a theory.

Perhaps it was because Lazarak had been created by the goddess herself. Even if he had rebelled, he was still a god who originated from her.

The High Templar’s eyes widened in shock. Never in all his years had he witnessed anything like this. He did not understand what he was seeing, but as the divine energy within the pool surged and the faint glow in Damon’s chest intensified, he fell to his knees in fanatical devotion.

“He… he… he is chosen…” he whispered.

He was not.

Not even close.

The goddess would never choose Damon. In truth, he was in an unfortunate situation, and had the damn old man pulled him out earlier, Damon might have survived this ordeal more easily. Unfortunately, what should have been a simple ritual had turned into a struggle between life and death.

Damon could feel the Seed of Depravity losing ground under the immense power of the pool. Even if it was only a sliver of the goddess’s divine energy, that sliver could fold the universe like a sheet of paper. It was not infinite, but it was terrifyingly close.

The Divine Spark continued pushing forward.

But Damon had not nurtured the spark himself.

Unlike the Seed of Depravity, which had been born from resentment, slaughter, and countless souls that had died by his hand or because of him.

He had already begun his transformation into a demon. The seed had progressed far, dangerously far, and was on the verge of full emergence.

And now, this spark was undoing all of it.

In the most tyrannical way imaginable.

All Damon could think was,

“Damn it… I’m going to die.”

Three hours passed. Or at least he thought so.

His body was broken and rebuilt in a vicious cycle. Bones were crushed and reforged. Organs ruptured and restored. Even so, the Seed of Depravity stubbornly endured.

How could defiance be erased so easily?

How could a demon bend before divinity?

Demons were born from resistance. Defiance was their nature. Even the true Demon Kings had defied, and that was why they became demons.

As the churning water dragged him toward the edge of the pool, Damon made his decision. The moment he reached the rim, he gathered all his remaining strength for one final push.

He was going to get out.

Then the High Templar’s eyes flashed.

“Do not let the current ruin the ritual. Push the chosen one back in.”

Damon nearly cursed.

He would have, if he could.

Instead, he was shoved back into the pool. Pain erupted again, and the spark surged.

’Damn it… I need to do something. Anything.’

For the past three hours, he had tried suppressing the spark. It had borne little fruit.

There was one final option.

One he had been avoiding.

But to attempt it, he needed a moment of absolute clarity.

Damon drew a deep, shaky breath. This was dangerous. To do this, he would have to stop suppressing the Divine Spark entirely and focus on something else.

For even a single second, his heart could rupture completely.

And then he would truly die.

Was he prepared to take that gamble?

“No risk, no reward.”

He let go.

His heart ruptured. He felt death close in.

And in that same instant, he channeled his shadow energy and forced it between the Seed of Depravity and the Divine Spark.

A chill spread.

Then, just like that, the two forces stopped clashing.

They were separated by a wall of shadows.

Damon finally relaxed.

He let his body go limp and floated within the pool as it slowly healed him. When the pain finally faded, he stood and walked out.

That was the longest moment of his life.

When he lifted his head, he found himself surrounded by the highest members of the clergy. Each wore the Temple’s highest-ranked garments, their faces obscured, their presence overwhelming.

There were nine of them.

He had heard of them.

The Nine Elders of Conflict.

“When did they get here…?” Damon muttered.

“Twenty-seven hours…” the High Templar whispered.

“You lasted twenty-seven hours…”

Damon narrowed his eyes. That could not be right. At most, he thought only a few hours had passed.

Then he frowned.

Had he been drifting in and out of consciousness?

His body felt light, far too light. Something had changed. His mana had been completely refined. That alone had been a major bottleneck for him. Even with additional mana cores, he had expected the process to take years, unless he unlocked the secret of a domain.

Yet now, he stood at the absolute limits of his rank.

Without even forming a domain.

“So… did I get the Hero title or what?”

“Hero…” one of the Elders murmured.

“No. You are a Holy Child. A Holy Child blessed by the goddess. You will be the light that ends the evils of this era.”

Damon did not know what to say as the man continued.

“You will stand at the forefront of our war against the demons. The vanguard of our actions. The one who brings war. All hail the Child of War.”

Damon felt his scalpel tingle.

He did not like that.

That sounded like a very elaborate way to get him killed.

He scratched the back of his head.

“So… can I get my Hero title, my holy relic, and be on my way?”

Their faces were hidden, but from their tones, Damon could tell they were eager to throw him into something catastrophic.

Child of War.

It was the same kind of title Seras Blade had received, right before she was deployed to the deadliest fronts of the Demon Wars.

’Great. I’m about to become a poster boy for war crimes.’

They quickly dragged Damon away to prepare him for his grand reveal as the Holy Child.

Deep within the Holy City, in a sealed chamber of the temple restricted to all but the High Templar and the Nine Elders, a man with golden hair opened his eyes from within a coffin.

“I sensed my brother’s presence…”

He closed his eyes again.

That was impossible.

Because Lazarak was dead.

He had made sure of that.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep