A huge mechanical spider folded its long legs and quickly glided along the flat road using wheels on its legs. Standing firmly on this mechanical creature's shell was Judge Vanna, who felt the cool night breeze with a hint of sea salt. It sharpened her mind. The cultists who worshipped the Sun God were a serious threat to modern civilization—and unfortunately, there were other threats as well.
Malicious gazes always seemed to come from the depths of subspace, and foolish mortals often tried to touch those sinister powers. Between the ancient gods and ordinary people, there were twisted remnants, forbidden offspring, and echoes of corruption lurking deep within the city, always ready to stir and disrupt the social order.
Among all these threats, the followers of the Sun God were the most concerning and troublesome for the protectors of the city of Prand. They were not just cultists; they were products of a lost history from the old world. Unlike most foolish and blind cults, the most dangerous aspect of those who worshipped the Dark Sun was their unwavering "belief." Despite their fanaticism and distortion, there existed a core belief among the higher-ups of this vile sect that had not changed for centuries.
This belief revolved around the "Era of Order" under the old sun, forming its own system, even having a corresponding "True Solar Calendar" that modern civilization did not recognize. They believed they were descendants of a long-lost ancient civilization and that this glorious civilization would surely be revived.
As a judge of the Deep Sea Church, Vanna had little interest in the twisted doctrines of these cultists, but she knew that the existence of these doctrines gave the Sun God’s followers a unity and stubbornness far beyond other heretics. Even after repeated crackdowns, they managed to survive and grow in the shadows of many cities.
However, their resurgence in Prand surprised Vanna. After an unprecedented crackdown four years ago, the followers of the Sun God were severely weakened. According to several investigation reports, the cultists had likely moved their main members to nearby Lensa, Moko, or even further to Cold Harbor City. What remained in Prand were mostly stubborn minions who had been misled and couldn’t follow the bishops.
These minions hid in the sewers, relying on their knowledge of the underground world and the twisted blessings from the Dark Sun to evade the pursuers. Over the four years, their numbers dwindled, and all they could do was barely survive.
Yet today, they suddenly gathered again, even daring to hold a sacrificial ceremony in a public gathering… Who gave them the courage? Or rather… was something significant about to happen in this city? Was there some reason strong enough to make these cultists risk exposing themselves to draw the Dark Sun’s attention back to Prand?
The mechanical spider vibrated as its steam core operated, and a faint scent of incense wafted from the steam release pipe, carried by the night wind. Vanna temporarily set aside her thoughts and looked up at the sky.
The "Creation of the World" hung high in the night sky, casting a pale light that illuminated the uneven rooftops, chimneys, and towers of Prand. The action team was now crossing the edge of the industrial area, where massive steam and hot liquid pipes crisscrossed the sky like giant veins.
Vanna vaguely recalled the past, remembering the most profound and terrifying night in her memory—during that midnight filled with the smell of blood, her uncle carried her away from the sea of flames. The streets were filled with the walking dead caught in collective hallucinations, and the shadows of flesh fluctuated. They escaped through the factory pipes, the smell of blood and the chemical grease from the pipes was nauseating…
Suddenly, the mechanical spider shook, jolting Vanna from her memories. The flat road came to an end, leading to an abandoned area at the city’s edge, where the ground was uneven and full of potholes. The two mechanical spiders ended their gliding mode, stretching out their long legs to walk quickly over the rough terrain.
Before long, the team arrived at an abandoned sewer entrance. Another group of eight was already stationed there, blocking the area to prevent unrelated personnel from approaching.
Vanna greeted her subordinates and then followed the site leader into the depths of the sewer.
Passing through the dark passage and dirty paths, Vanna finally reached the secret gathering place—here, she saw more guardian warriors and priests performing purification rituals.
A makeshift altar stood in the center of the gathering place, its wooden platform looked as if it had been burned by flames. The altar still bore the remnants of a blasphemous totem built by the Sun God’s followers—it had been destroyed by fire, but its basic structure remained intact.
Surrounding the altar were dozens of cultists bound and squatting on the ground, most of them trembling, while a few silently mouthed their blasphemous prayers. However, with the ritual site destroyed and the Storm Goddess already aware of the situation, these heretics’ prayers were utterly useless.
Nearby, the bodies of victims found in a nearby cave were placed on linen cloths marked with runes, and the hurried morticians were checking the condition of each body.
Several priests were moving around the altar, their copper chains swaying slightly. The incense burners at the ends of the chains emitted pure white smoke, which, upon touching the ground near the altar, was immediately tainted with a dark shadow. More white smoke would carry away this pollution—the breath of the Dark Sun left behind would be gradually cleared away in the process.
“Judge, please come over here. This is where we found something strange,” said a young guardian, pointing to several bodies beside the altar. “Be careful; the ground here is not very clean.”
Vanna walked straight toward the bodies, and upon seeing one of them, she instinctively frowned.
It was a cultist wearing a golden mask—undoubtedly a priest directly responsible for the sacrificial ceremony. A terrible hollow gaped in his chest.
“…What happened here?” Vanna frowned. “Did this fanatic get so excited at the end of the ritual that he sacrificed himself? I’ve never heard of such a rule among those who worship the Dark Sun.”
“That’s precisely the strange part—he didn’t self-sacrifice,” the guardian who brought Vanna shook his head, his expression slightly odd. “According to the captured cultists… their ‘messenger’ was sacrificed by a victim…”
“Sacrificed by a victim?” Vanna raised an eyebrow. “What kind of nonsense is that?”
“It does sound like nonsense,” the guardian shrugged helplessly. “In fact, when we arrived, most of the cultists were already in a half-mad state.”
“Half-mad state?”
“Yes, their sacrificial ritual clearly went horribly wrong. Many became insane, and quite a few started attacking each other, seemingly viewing each other as… ‘monsters’ possessed by some terrifying entity. It was because of their madness that they burst out of the gathering place, alarming the patrolling officers nearby and exposing the situation… By the time we arrived, there were hardly any left who could answer questions clearly, and those few who could still speak insisted that it was the victim who sacrificed the messenger.”
“Falling into madness? Attacking each other? And thinking others are possessed monsters?” Vanna’s expression turned serious. “Have they been examined? Is it the result of Dark Sun pollution?”
“There are no signs of external pollution; it seems more like a spontaneous madness—its roots lie within their own minds,” the guardian said, pointing to a young lady in a black dress walking among the cultists. “Ms. Heidi has arrived. If we confirm that these cultists are not affected by the Dark Sun, we’ll have to think about hypnosis.”
(End of Chapter)