1182 The Holy Word (1/2)

Although it had been less than a week since he entered the Forsaken Land of the Gods, Klein had long gotten a good understanding of the place through Little Sun. He knew that normal humans, even saints, had to use fire to create light in the darkness. Otherwise, it was very easy for them to encounter dangerous monsters lurking in the depths of the darkness, or be secretly devoured, disappearing without a trace, never to be found again.

And at that moment, the elderly clergyman wasn't carrying any animal hide lanterns. Instead, he passed through the fog in the darkness and slowly entered the cathedral that was illuminated by the dim yellow light.

If it wasn't for his deep and calm eyes that didn't show any signs of madness, Klein's first reaction would've been that he had encountered a special monster.

Of course, having a normal person's state of mind and being immersed in darkness were contradictory traits. Any living creature with any semblance of normal intelligence could easily come up with a conclusion that this person might be even more terrifying than special monsters.

Klein had only met one person who could pass through the darkness without being affected by it while having sufficient intelligence:

Blasphemer Amon!

Sensing that the faint yellow light was reflected on his face, the tall black-robed clergyman with a slight hunch to his back stopped in his tracks. Looking at the demonic wolf statue, he hoarsely asked, ”Where did the owner of this city go?”

Klein was the kind of person who would try his best to resolve a problem peacefully if a fight with a stranger could be avoided. As he raised his guard, he calmly replied, ”I don't know where either—I just entered the city—who knows where the owner went.”

Just as he said that, the entire cathedral dimmed. A thin fog surged in like a tidal wave from the outside, drowning the interior.

The lantern in Klein's hand failed miserably at illuminating the windows and the situation at the door. It was dark outside, and nothing could be seen.

In the blink of an eye, the cathedral that worshiped the demonic wolf statue seemed to be isolated from Nois City. It was unknown where it was located.

Klein's pupils dilated slightly as he looked at the clergyman with wrinkles and white hair. He asked in a deep voice, ”Who are you?”

The hunched clergyman replied in a condescending manner, ”I'm an attendant by the Lord's side. I'm the Angel of the Holy Word, Steph. I walk this land of the past that the Lord had passed on, doing so on 'His' behalf in search of the 'Blasphemer' hidden in the darkness.”

As he spoke, the elder's figure expanded to a height of four meters tall. Behind him, black illusory feathers appeared. Their shadows intersected and formed four pairs of gloomy but holy wings.

Angel of the Holy Word, Steph… An attendant by the Lord's side… Land of the past… This is the Blessed of the True Creator, the Angel of Fate's subordinate, a member of the Rose Redemption? It's no wonder that ”He” can walk in the darkness; ”He” has the power of degeneration protecting ”Him”… That evil god is still searching for the Beyonder characteristic of the Attendant of Mysteries? Klein had no choice but to raise his head and lock eyes with this clergyman who, despite wearing a black robe, had four pairs of angel wings on ”His” back. This high-level existence angel's form remained wrinkled with grizzled hair. There was a sense of contradiction in everything about ”Him.”

Pretending that he had never made an enemy of the Aurora Order, he calmly said, ”That Blasphemer has long fled. I'm also searching for 'Him.'”

After staring at Klein for two seconds, the Angel of the Holy Word asked in a low voice, ”Who are you?”

It won't be convenient saying it out directly… Klein sighed and smiled.

”I'm a lonely traveler.”

After he gave this reply, he suddenly felt an extreme sense of darkness developing within him. It then sank down and merged with the shadow created by the lantern.

The pitch-black figure abruptly warped and came to ”life,” stretching itself out to become another Gehrman Sparrow—one with sinister and ferocious eyes and a solitary demeanor.

This… Klein's pupils constricted. Without any hesitation, he reached out his right hand and grabbed outward at thin air.

At this point, if he hadn't guessed that Steph was using his ”answer,” he should've joined the Aurora Order and made the True Creator his god.

At this moment, he already knew what it meant by ”Angel of the Holy Word.”

This was clearly the Angel of the Evil Word!

By using a person's reply, ”He” could extract a portion of the ambiguity or expand on it to create the effect of spirit language!

When Klein said that he didn't know where the owner of the city had gone, Steph extracted the words ”I don't know where I went,” trapping himself and isolating himself from the outside world.

When this angel revealed ”His” identity, every word was enhancing ”His” level and strength.

When Klein answered who he was, it ended up separating ”a lonely traveler” from him.

From the moment ”He” appeared in Nois City, there was a strong sense of malice in the black-robed Steph!

And just as Klein was attempting to summon a particular image from the Historical Void, the sinister Gehrman Sparrow seemed to share the same thoughts as he did. He too grabbed at the same projection, canceling each other out.

Seeing that his powers as a Scholar of Yore had been restrained, Klein's eyes narrowed. Without any hesitation, he opened his mouth and said a word in Jotun.

But in the next second, the word was stolen.

Standing at about four meters tall, the stooped Angel of the Holy Word, Steph, had at some point in time grown a head covered in blood on ”His” left shoulder. It looked very similar to ”Him,” but was much younger—a person who was approximately in the forties.

Around the head were two skinless arms that had mangled flesh. They had ”Grazed” different souls and had used Beyonder powers that could steal thoughts.

At the same time, another bloody head grew on Steph's right shoulder, one that looked to be in ”His” twenties.