Became an Apostle of an Ancient God

Chapter 23

Hall of Atonement, central church.

A grand funeral ceremony for the Chosen Child was underway there.

A golden carriage engraved with the symbol of Serre. Atop it lay a coffin used when a Sun-level priest dies in battle against monsters or heretics.

Even in funerals, Lusis strictly adheres to doctrine and law.

No matter how special the power the child had, holding such a grand funeral for someone who had done nothing in service of Lusis went against the original doctrine.

The only reason this was possible was entirely because of Master Bishop Luther of the Hall. He had personally detailed every aspect of the funeral format for the Chosen Child.

Just a few days ago, Luther had buried the Chosen Child with his own hands.

Hiding the evil that loomed like a shadow within him, he looked down at the funeral through the stained glass of the central church with a sorrowful expression.

"Such a truly sad event. The child could have been a vanguard of Lusis. Now, everyone together. Let us pray that he may return to the side of Goddess Serre."

Luther said this in the presence of the other believers. Within the Hall of Atonement, his words were absolute. His words were as those of Goddess Serre, and anyone who disobeyed them was a heretic.

Even those who had harbored resentment toward the Chosen Child, or the Child of the Devil, had no choice but to follow Luther's call for mourning.

Just as Bishop Luther was about to personally lead the prayer for the deceased, the doors of the central church's chapel burst open, and a panting priest ran up to the altar.

Luther frowned.

It hadn't been long since he heard the news of a prison break at the prisoner camp. Scolding the priest who came to report, Luther asked,

"...Can't you see we are offering prayers for the dead? Didn't I tell you to use the [rite of message] for such matters?"

As the gentle bishop's face twisted in a scowl, the priest whispered into Luther's ear.

"Bishop Luther. We cannot use the message rite right now. The path of light buried underground... has been damaged by an unidentified force... the message is no longer transmitting properly."

"W-What...? Who the hell...?"

"That's not all. According to a recent report, the criminal from Anatolia and a dark acolyte have appeared at the 2nd Church and wiped out the Knight Leader and the 1st Battalion. The 2nd Church... the passage to the Rear side. Don't tell me..."

"Even if we set aside the great criminal from Anatolia, it's far too dangerous for a black acolyte to step foot there. Can't we respond?"

"W-Well. Most of the elite forces from the Hall of Atonement are currently concentrated at the 5th Church, where the black acolyte incident happened last time."

"Order them to return immediately. Even if we have to summon the regular forces, the 2nd Church must be defended."

"But..."

The priest hesitated and couldn't continue. The Rear side of the Hall of Atonement. That place housed all the inhumane facilities Luther had kept thoroughly hidden.

It was a place where the atonement or execution of prisoners was carried out in secret... and also served as the experimental lab where Luther secretly conducted relic-based experiments.

"Tch... I guess I have no choice but to go myself."

Luther, a priest of the cosmic rank within the Hall, might be able to resolve the problem quickly if he went himself. However, facing the criminal from Anatolia, the black acolyte, and an unknown force that had destroyed the communication system all alone...

Even for someone of cosmic rank, was it wise to venture out alone without knowing the enemy's numbers?

No, even with the risk, there were simply too many things in the Rear side of the Hall of Atonement that could not be shown to the public.

"It may take some time... but I will go myself. Use the beacon we prepared for communication failure to summon the elite forces."

"Understood!"

Luther quickly entrusted the prayer to someone else and hastily donned his combat robe.

A prisoner had escaped from the Hall of Atonement, which had never allowed a single escape until now. An intruder had entered from the outside, and the Master Bishop had been driven to the brink of defeat by a priest in restraints.

All of this was because of Haru.

It all began after the apostle of the Mother of Life, Shub-Niggurath, arrived.

Something... was beginning to change.

Centered around that child.

* * *

"W-What is this...?"

Iron Mask and Hannah emerged from the hidden underground passage of the 2nd Church into a vast underground space. What unfolded before them was... a space so massive it was hard to believe it was underground—almost rivaling the central church in size.

However, unlike the central church which inspired reverence for Serre and instilled fear in heretics, this place had an entirely different nature.

The first thing Iron Mask saw upon entering this space was a test tube.

And not an ordinary test tube.

Inside it, there had been people.

From young children to elderly seniors, regardless of age or gender, they were thrashing inside test tubes filled with red liquid.

The test tubes were connected to a dome-shaped machine that occupied most of the space.

Atop the constantly steaming machine stood a statue of Serre, connected to a small flask where purple tentacles swam.

Shocked by the horrifying sight the Hall had hidden, Iron Mask inspected each test tube one by one. He was worried that Haru might be trapped in one of them.

Hannah, too, though she had come after hearing information from her comrades, hadn't expected such a scene and was momentarily frozen.

During that time, the researchers attached to the test tubes and machines noticed the presence of Iron Mask and Hannah and shouted.

"I-Intruders!"

"We already took care of all the guards on the first floor, so it's best if you don't call anyone."

Iron Mask spoke confidently first, but he couldn't finish his sentence when something emerged from behind the lab's iron bars.

Breaking out of a test tube filled with red liquid, the figure that appeared was... none other than a monster.

"A monster?"

The monster, which had a humanoid form, looked strange.

Having worked for a long time in Anatolia as a mercenary and monster hunter, Iron Mask had seen countless types of monsters, but he had never seen one like this.

Tentacle-like bundles hung down from its head like a beard, its body was limp as if it would melt at any moment, and thick bodily fluids dripped from its entire body.

"W-What the hell is that."

"Can't you feel it? You're from Anatolia, after all."

The black acolyte, Hannah Arendt, on the other hand, sensed something from the monster that she shouldn't have. Monsters don't use Divine Power. No, it would be more accurate to say they can't.

But from that monster walking toward them step by step, she could feel a distinct Divine Power. And not just any—one equivalent to a quasi-Sun-level priest. That only meant one thing.

That monster wasn't a monster.

"That's a human. Altered by a relic, it seems."

"What..."

"Maybe... it used to be one of my comrades."

Bitterly biting her lip, Hannah looked back at Iron Mask.

"Anatolian. I'll handle the guards. In the meantime, please rescue the people."

"...Got it."

Iron Mask brought his right hand to his mask and, with fury, summoned the most familiar monster's power.

"Source of magic that denies the god."

Borrowing the power of the shadow monster, Iron Mask pulled out dozens of throwing spears from beneath his sleeve and hurled them at the test tubes with all his might. In an instant, the test tubes shattered, and the people trapped inside were released in a torrent of red liquid.

Iron Mask slung the falling people over both shoulders and gently laid them on the ground. However, Haru, whom he had been so desperately searching for, was not among them.

"Y-You demon! What are you doing to our precious samples?!"

Without fear, one of the researchers tried to stop Iron Mask, calling them samples, but Iron Mask, having witnessed the unethical experiments conducted in the name of god, exploded in rage.

Chraaak!!

In Iron Mask's hand was a sawtooth sword made of shadow.

A saw isn't a particularly useful weapon for killing living beings. It's a tool originally meant for cutting thick wood or tendons during slaughter.

The reason Iron Mask had chosen such a weapon.

It was a kind of vow—to torture the enemy with maximum pain.

One of the researcher's arms was severed clean off, and he screamed in agony as he fled from Iron Mask wielding the saw.

"A-Aaaargh?!"

Iron Mask grabbed the researcher's hair and slammed him onto the floor.

Glancing at the handful of hair he had ripped out, he drove the blade of the sawtooth sword into the man's other arm and began sawing back and forth.

"Gyaaaaaaah!!!"

"Answer me. Follower of Serre. Where is the Chosen Child?"

"T-That's...!"

"Answer me!!!!"

At Iron Mask's roar and the sight of his left arm being sawed off in real time, the researcher tightly shut his eyes.

"I don't know! Maybe I'd tell someone else. But I'll never tell a damn Anatolian heretic like you!"

"You bastard...!"

Just as Iron Mask was about to kill the researcher by targeting his neck, a few small light bugs sparkled and fluttered around him.

The place the light bugs headed toward...

Was the giant machine at the center of the underground space, emitting steam. Seeing this, Iron Mask smirked and stepped away from the terrified researcher.

"You know what? I'm not very good at making things. But I'm pretty damn good at breaking them."

Iron Mask touched his mask and awakened the power of a new monster.

"Flame spirit slumbering in the great nature."

Iron Mask's mask was engulfed in red flames. A long tail formed behind his waist, his legs bent backward like a digitigrade beast, and his entire body was covered in reptilian scales instead of mammalian skin.

The mask of the monster, 'Salamander.'

Now able to freely control the cursed flames, Iron Mask shoved the frightened researcher aside.

"Now."

Enjoying the flames burning all over his body, Iron Mask opened his mouth wide. Slowly, the hot crimson flames gathered and condensed in his mouth.

Salamander sometimes shows a scene of gathering the essence of flames in its mouth and emitting it in the form of breath when hunting prey. Just like a dragon.

'Then, shall I break it?'