When he opened his eyes again, Mu Xuan’s mind was in utter chaos.
He stared blankly at the damp, slightly decayed ceiling for a long time.
Until a drop of icy water fell from the ceiling onto his face.
Mu Xuan’s fingers twitched, and a strange sensation coursed through him.
Only then did a true spark of awareness return to Mu Xuan’s gaze.
Countless fragmented memories scrambled and jumbled in his mind, but in the end, everything pointed back to this dilapidated house.
“I am… the Forty-second Pope?”
Rubbing his throbbing forehead, Mu Xuan noticed the Scepter in his hand.
All the Popes had, without exception, perished in this Catastrophe, yet this Scepter—symbolizing the Pope’s supreme authority—had somehow been preserved.
What’s more… it carried fragments of memories from Popes past, and now those memories had been passed down to him…
Glancing around the room, Mu Xuan realized that compared to the Pope’s residence before the Catastrophe, this place could only be described as wretched.
The entire room exuded a decaying stench that was viscerally repulsive.
This was the Pope’s own dwelling, and his thirty-odd subordinates were all crammed into the narrow hall outside the door. The worst part was that this whole cottage offered no shelter from the rain.
A light drizzle was manageable, but if a real downpour hit, even catching a cold would be considered lucky.
As he sorted through the memories, Mu Xuan was left with many questions he couldn’t understand.
According to the memories of the past Popes, the gods of this world truly existed, and could even bestow Divine Grace. Aside from the Divine Grace Bearers, there were many other types of power. So how had things become so twisted by The Strange… There were not only Rule Horrors, Aberrant Monsters, but even more bizarre and terrifying existences…
Especially after the Thirty-seventh Pope, no matter how hard the subsequent Popes tried, they could no longer obtain Divine Grace from the gods. That was why the Light Church had tried to make use of The Strange’s Origin.
But something seemed to have gone wrong midway, causing all the church’s remaining strength to be wiped out. By the time it reached Mu Xuan, only thirty Congregants were left. Most importantly, these weren’t the original members of the church; all thirty Congregants had been “picked up” during the retreat…
The original body had followed the church all the way during the “retreat”, and was the last true member of the church to remain… This was also why, despite being of little use, the previous Pope still passed the position on to him.
Yet, the original body had died last night—worn out by grief and exhaustion…
As for the reason… it was simply too much longing for the old days in the church.
“Sigh…” Mu Xuan let out a helpless sigh, turning his gaze to the two Pollutants placed on the floor.
Aside from the Scepter in his hand, these two Pollutants were all the power the Pope could rely on.
The remaining power in the Scepter could purify Pollutants at first, but after losing contact with the gods, it could now only heal minor wounds.
As for those two Pollutants, one was the Bloodstained Blade, and the other was the Broken Helmet.
Both had been carefully selected and passed down; their side effects weren’t severe, but their uses were significant. As for the others… either lost or too dangerous.
Even though these two Pollutants weren’t that bad, Mu Xuan still didn’t want to use them!!!
One required cutting off a finger, and the other made you want to dig out your own brain.
Cutting off a finger might have been a minor side effect to previous Popes, but for Mu Xuan, who had come from the Peace Era, that was still too great a price.
As for the helmet, as long as it wasn’t worn for too long, there’d be no problem, but who knew how long was “not too long”?! The only benefit was those five minutes of immunity to spiritual and physical attacks targeting the head, but Mu Xuan couldn’t imagine anyone wearing that helmet for long… Oh, right, the Pope before last had worn it to sleep to avoid Pollutants, only to have his brains dug out—so much for that…
Given the situation, the gods were unreliable, and the church had retreated to a dark corner of the Black Mist, barely clinging to life. How was he supposed to go on?!
Worst of all, he couldn’t even resign as Pope; holding the position gave him a few ways to protect himself, while giving it up meant certain death…
“Your Holiness, it’s time for prayers…” A knock came from the door, instantly putting Mu Xuan on guard. But soon after, he let down his guard.
This was the Cardinal Archbishop appointed by the previous Pope, though frankly, he was just as powerless now. In the current situation, the Cardinal Archbishop’s authority meant nothing.
Still, this was the man the previous Pope trusted most; even when passing the papal seat to Mu Xuan and seeking the Statue’s protection, he brought this man along…
Wait—the Pope never came back, but this guy did… If memory served, it was also this Cardinal Archbishop who announced the previous Pope had received the Goddess’s protection.
Moreover… in the eyes of the thirty Faithful, the Cardinal Archbishop’s status far outweighed his own…
At that thought, Mu Xuan’s gaze became guarded once more…
He had to find out what happened when the previous Pope and this Cardinal Archbishop went out together.
But now, he absolutely couldn’t reveal his intentions, nor could he let on that he was no longer the original person.
He picked up the Bloodstained Blade and slipped it into his pocket, tidied his appearance, and opened the door with a smile. “Bishop Hel, you’ve worked hard…”
“Your Holiness, it’s my duty…” Hel’s voice was weak, his eyes sunken with dark circles—clearly he hadn’t had it easy either. Yet he still greeted Mu Xuan respectfully with a hand-over-heart salute and made way for him.
Taking a deep breath, Mu Xuan looked out at the hall beyond the door. There sat the last twenty-nine Faithful of the church, each one gaunt and thin…
They had followed the church, hiding and fleeing, and suffered much hardship. Perhaps they did not truly believe in the Light Goddess, but they knew that to survive and not become one of those monsters, they had to stick with the church.
Through the long and arduous journey, they had no energy left for conversation, keeping to a heavy silence.
But now, the church was nearing its end. A sense of despair hung over the entire hall… Yet Mu Xuan’s sharp eyes noticed two people whose eyes still flickered with hope.
Recalling the Cardinal Archbishop’s announcement two days ago about the Statue’s protection, Mu Xuan more or less understood their feelings.
In such dire straits, being able to contact the gods meant hope for salvation—or at least, escape from the disaster…
But even Mu Xuan didn’t know if that was real. If it was, why had so many Popes failed to reach the gods? If it was fake, then either Hel was deceiving everyone, or…
With that thought, Mu Xuan gave Hel a long, searching look, quickly withdrawing his gaze before Hel noticed. No one must sense anything amiss about him!
Even if he noticed something wrong, he had to keep it buried deep inside. Having read countless horror novels, Mu Xuan knew this very well.
Given the current situation, he had to investigate for himself—no one else could know what he was thinking. Whether it was faith or the lives of the Faithful, none of that mattered; the only thing that mattered was surviving! He had to find every way, pay the smallest price, and live on!