Wolfgang moved with phantom speed. The moment Loren entered the hall and caused a minor stir, he was at his side. He steadied Loren's swaying body, leaning in to whisper a few urgent words into his ear. A flicker of something stirred in the depths of Loren's hollow eyes before dying out again, allowing Wolfgang to half-support, half-drag him swiftly into the ranks of novice Clerics under the dome, separated by the energy barrier.

  Grand Cleric Hong Bo had clearly noted the interruption, but the smile on his face didn't waver; it only grew more profound. He stepped forward again, his voice a rolling thunder that crushed the last whispers:

  "Behold! The lost lamb has returned to the flock! This proves our Lord's mercy knows no bounds!" He spread his arms as if to embrace the intangible energy. "The granting of power is also a trial! Only the most resilient will, the most devout faith, can bear our Lord's glory and become true blades of the divine!"

  His words were masterfully manipulative, neatly categorizing Loren's distress as a 'trial' and 'return,' cleverly maintaining the aura of sanctity.

  "Now!" Hong Bo's voice rose sharply, filled with undeniable finality. "Open the conduit! Draw forth the God's Grace!"

  The brother leading the ceremony barked an acknowledgment and without hesitation threw the most prominent switch on the control console—the one engraved with the golden circuit.

  "HUM—!"

  An unprecedented, violent hum, as if from the world's very foundation, erupted! The energy barriers within the Angel's Descent hall blazed with light, sigils spinning madly!

  This was followed by a heart-stopping, absolute silence.

  It wasn't the absence of sound, but that all sound, including the energy's roar, was forcibly 'stripped away' or masked by a higher-order presence. An indescribable pressure from a higher dimension descended, enveloping everyone.

  Erika felt the auras of the white-robed Clerics around him shift instantly! They were no longer solemn or calm. Their eyes burned, bodies leaning forward slightly, throats emitting suppressed, beast-like pants. They rubbed their hands together, like predators awaiting the start of a feast.

  What's happening? Is this right?

  Alarm bells screamed in Erika's mind. This was not the state for receiving 'divine grace'! This was… the restlessness of scavengers waiting to feed!

  His gaze locked onto Loren within the barrier. Loren stood in the ranks, body still trembling slightly, but the moment that annihilating pressure descended, some instinct seemed triggered. He lifted his head with immense difficulty.

  Their eyes met across the dazzling barrier light and chaotic energy streams.

  Something in Loren's stagnant eyes seemed to shatter. It wasn't relief; it was the raw, ferally stubborn spite of a broken noble refusing to die. He looked at Erika. He wasn't looking for a friend; he was looking for a witness to his agony.

  Erika didn't feel a warm surge of camaraderie. He felt a chilling, profound shock, followed by a twisted sense of validation. He's still standing. In this entire, cold Sanctum, amidst these cannibalistic Clerics, Loren was the only other living thing fighting the same slaughterhouse logic. It wasn't friendship. It was the horrific solidarity of two pieces of meat refusing to go through the grinder. It anchored Erika. If the noble could survive this, so could he.

  The Angel's Descent hall fell into a brief, pre-storm silence. Energy raged within the barriers, golden light swirling. The ceremony could begin at any moment.

  SWOOSH!!!!

  Without warning, without process!

  A pillar of energy, indescribable in its magnitude and brilliance, as if tearing the veil between reality and illusion, shot down from beyond the hall's dome, from the unknowable reaches beyond the sky, in a manner transcending mortal comprehension!

  It pierced precisely through the dome of the Angel's Descent, ignoring physical barriers like a spear of divine judgment, and slammed directly into the heart of the shielded novice Clerics' ranks!

  Light devoured everything.

  Erika's eyes seared with pain, as if being blinded by pure radiance! He instinctively threw his arms over his eyes, barely able to see the distorted, blurred silhouettes at the periphery of the light pillar through the gaps in his arms.

  The novice Clerics!

  The moment the light pillar struck, they didn't even have time to scream! Those with the strongest wills and bodies managed to erupt with all their energy, holding on desperately, their forms shaking violently within the light like candles in a gale, on the verge of being snuffed out the next second. Their figures twisted and blurred in the intense light, like wax figures tossed into a furnace.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  And this was only the first ten seconds!

  After ten seconds, the destructive light pillar began to weaken and retract as abruptly as it appeared, as if being sucked back beyond the heavens by some entity.

  The intense light faded. Vision slowly returned.

  Erika urgently lowered his arms, looking into the barrier—

  He froze, his blood seeming to turn to ice.

  Inside the barrier, a dead silence reigned.

  Over half of the neatly ranked novice Clerics were… gone.

  Not fallen, not injured. Utterly vanished.

  Where they had stood was empty, marked only by faintly glowing, heat-scorched patches on the ground, and the air floated with ash-like, minuscule metallic particles and energy residue—the final traces of their metal adornments, and perhaps their Marks, completely annihilated.

  Obliterated. Literally, not a trace left.

  Only a handful of survivors remained, slumped on the ground as if dragged from water, gasping violently, their faces filled with the blankness of extreme terror and the unreality of survival. Loren was among them, on one knee, hands braced against the ground, his pale gold hair soaked with sweat and plastered to his face. But he was alive!

  Yet, as Erika stood reeling from the horrific scene, his stomach churning, he clearly heard the white-robed Clerics around him let out a chorus of disappointed, frustrated sighs!

  "Tch, so little this time…"

  "The 'material' this batch was poor, conversion rate too low…"

  "A pity, thought we'd get more replenishment…"

  "His Eminence Hong Bo will be dissatisfied…"

  It was like diners disappointed by a meager feast, or gamblers lamenting an unlucky roll. Their faces were etched with 'pity,' 'not enough,' 'why so little.' Their burning eyes fixed on the survivors within the barrier and the… not-yet-dissipated energy afterglow in the air, as if calculating the 'nourishment' they had failed to absorb.

  No one mourned the dozens of young lives extinguished in an instant.

  The white-robed Clerics seated in the observation areas, after their sighs of disappointment, rose in unison. Like hyenas scenting blood, their faces naked with greed and urgency, they strode purposefully into the ceremonial ground, heading straight for the energy barrier whose light had not yet fully faded.

  Inside the barrier was a living hell.

  Half the novices were dust. Most survivors were too drained from resisting the destructive energy or were writhing in pain, utterly incapable of following Hong Bo's command to begin consolidating their Marks immediately.

  One boy, who looked very young and slight, had likely survived by being on the very edge of the light pillar's impact, but was clearly at his limit. His face was streaked with tears and terror. Using his last ounce of strength, he clawed at the ground, crawling towards the approaching white-robed Clerics outside the barrier, a broken, faint plea escaping his throat:

  "Help… me… please… pull me out…"

  The lead white-robed Cleric merely cast a cold glance his way, as if looking at a bothersome insect. He didn't even break stride, simply lifting a foot as he passed and kicking the boy hard, sending him tumbling back deep into the barrier!

  "Get out of the way!" the Cleric snapped impatiently.

  The boy crumpled like a rag doll, emitting a weak whimper before falling still.

  High on the dais, Grand Cleric Hong Bo watched it all. Far from intervening, the fanatical smile on his face burned brighter! His voice, like a demonic incantation, continued to agitate and brainwash:

  "See?! Only those who endure the God's Grace and remain unbroken are the true essence! You are the chosen ones, the true apostles capable of bearing the God's power! Do not waste this rare opportunity! Cast aside weakness, focus your spirits! Now, immediately, begin consolidating your Marks! Make this blessing your own!"

  Spurred by his cries, the few survivors inside the barrier who could still maintain some awareness and mobility struggled to sit up cross-legged, despite their fear and physical agony. They tried to guide the residual energy within them or the still-lingering feral energy in the environment, beginning the arduous task of constructing their Mark circuits. Among them was Loren, his eyes dead yet radiating a fierce determination. His movements were slow, but unnervingly steady.

  Meanwhile, more white-robed Clerics had breached the seemingly solid barrier—which offered them no resistance—and entered like wolves among sheep, swiftly closing in on the incapacitated or slow-moving survivors.

  They reached out, palms manifesting vortices of absorptive energy, forcefully pressing them against the survivors' bodies—usually where their Marks were located, or over their core energy regions!

  "Gah—aaaaaah—!"

  A short, sharp, barely formed scream erupted, then was cut off.

  The survivors' bodies convulsed violently. The faint spark of survival hope that had just ignited in their eyes rapidly dimmed and died. The pitiful trickle of energy they had just mustered to form their Marks, along with their very life force, was mercilessly, forcibly drained and devoured by the white-robed Clerics like a bursting dam!

  Plunder! Naked, brazen plunder!

  Outside the barrier, Erika stood paralyzed. But his body began to betray his morality.

  The air was thick with the agonizing residual energy of the obliterated novices—the ash of human lives. Suddenly, a searing pain erupted on his forearms. His dual Marks ignited, glowing with a violently hungry, blood-red light.

  He wasn't just a spectator. His primitive Mark was acting on its own, behaving exactly like the scavengers he was watching. The ambient energy, tainted with the screams of the dead youth, was being forcefully pulled toward him.

  Erika realized with a jolt of pure nausea what was happening. No.

  He gritted his teeth, desperately trying to clamp down on his channels, fiercely fighting the primitive Mark's feral hunger. He crossed his arms, digging his fingers into his own flesh, trying to physically choke off the flow. He refused to eat the dead. He refused to be one of them.

  But his primitive Mark was too ancient, too starved. He couldn't entirely stop it. Wisps of the bloody, corrupted energy seeped through his desperate blockade, sinking deep into his skin.

  And then came the true horror.

  The raw, agonizing burn of his newly grafted channels—a constant torture he had endured for days—began to ease. The dead novices' energy was acting as a grotesque balm, soothing his torn flesh and stabilizing his core. His body was thanking him for the slaughter.

  A wave of profound nausea and self-loathing washed over him, clashing violently with the terrifying, intoxicating relief spreading through his flesh. He was feeding on them, and he was powerless to stop it.

  Beside him, Wolfgang didn't even turn his head, merely whispering a cold, clinical command:

  "Don't fight it, Erika. Absorb the overflow. This is your share of the spoils."

  Erika stood trembling in the shadows, his fingernails digging bloody crescents into his palms. He watched the white-robed Clerics moving among the survivors like devils. He finally, fully understood what Wolfgang meant by 'demons fighting demons.'

  He closed his eyes, swallowed the bitter bile rising in his throat, and let the horrific, soothing energy wash over his shaking body.