Demon Bible

Chapter 165: Should Not Rot

Fass raised his head, his gaze sweeping across a sea of black masks.

The sight of everyone wearing identical black masks and matching uniforms struck Fass with a profound sense of shock.

Especially after understanding the true meaning behind these black masks, he could not help but feel a suffocating pressure.

One could say he was actively courting death.

These black-masked individuals were absolutely the faction most fanatically loyal to the Church.

They might be gathered here for some shady, clandestine purpose.

But even if they were taken down, Fass doubted his own fate would be any better.

The implications of this situation were simply too massive. For the first time, Fass could not help but wonder if Lord Nemus was truly reliable.

Lord Nemus had founded the Construct Protocol and commanded esteemed figures like Twin and Becky.

None of them operated out in the open, yet they had already managed to stir up a storm using only the peripheral organizations of the Construct Protocol.Much of Fass's previous confidence had stemmed directly from Nemus.

After all, since Nemus was capable of making fools out of most Church members, he would definitely be able to protect him as long as he succeeded.

But at this moment, that confidence completely evaporated.

A crowd of black masks represented a crowd of Ascetic Priests.

A single Ascetic Priest was one thing—perhaps acting on a personal whim. But a whole group of them could only mean that this matter was of paramount importance to the Church!

If anything happened to these people, the Church would absolutely dispatch Golden Rank powerhouses, wouldn't they?!

'Would Nemus be able to protect me when that time comes?' Fass found his resolve wavering.

Under these circumstances, even if he succeeded, it would be almost impossible to escape accountability afterward.

The moment this thought arose, Fass instinctively reached out to probe his connection with Nemus.

Immediately, he felt a hollow emptiness, as if Nemus's consciousness had never been connected with his from the very beginning.

At this realization, panic finally began to claw at his chest.

Taking a deep breath, Fass forced himself to calm down.

Things had already escalated to this point. He was here now. No matter what, he could hardly walk up to these Ascetic Priests and tell them that his previous words were total nonsense and ask if they could make peace.

Since he could not utter such a ridiculous joke, there was only one choice left for him to make.

'Fight!' With his retreat blocked and his connection to Nemus severed, the only path remaining for Fass was to fight.

As this answer solidified in his mind, the brief hesitation in his heart vanished.

Without a moment's pause, Fass drew a massive surge of dark aura into his body.

At this exact moment, fueled by the injection of the dark aura, his Inner Eye advanced to the next stage.

Fass felt as though his body was no longer under his direct control, yet simultaneously, it felt entirely at his disposal to mold and shape.

His vision floated out from his eyes and detached from his physical form, hovering just above his head to form a third-person perspective.

From this vantage point, it seemed his physical body could be driven purely by his thoughts, receiving a substantial boost in power as a result.

And this was the true Third Eye that most Spellcasters gained upon advancing to the Iron Rank.

Utilizing this unique control perspective, Fass commanded his body to rapidly close the distance toward the Estate.

He then saw one of the black-masked individuals off to the side complete another spell.

A massive volley of white projectiles shot forth, nearly blanketing Fass's entire trajectory.

Yet, Fass came to an eerie, abrupt halt, instantly stopping as if the laws of inertia simply did not apply to him.

The swarm of white projectiles whizzed closely past his front, failing to graze even a sliver of his clothing. Empowered by this newfound perception, Fass finally realized just how incredibly lucky he had been to defeat that Iron Rank black-masked priest earlier.

His previous opponent possessed decent abilities but was likely unskilled in actual combat. That was why Fass had found an opening to use a simple distraction tactic, causing the priest to lose both his offensive and defensive capabilities.

Furthermore, the opponent had known that their clandestine operation was on the verge of exposure. Driven by the need to protect their secrets, and mentally shaken by Fass destroying Al's corpse, a flaw had appeared in the priest's state of mind. Had those factors not aligned, it was hard to say if the opponent would have resorted to "suicide" at all.

In that specific situation, the priest had not necessarily lost all capacity to resist. Had he seized an opportunity to continue the fight, Fass might not have won.

That was exactly why, even after emerging victorious, Fass felt as though all the "glory" of the battle had been snatched away by that man.

'Perhaps from a purely confrontational standpoint, he most likely committed suicide rather than being defeated by me,' Fass thought, suddenly feeling that he was being a bit overly sentimental.

But at a moment like this, he did not see any problem with being a little sentimental.

'This might be the single grandest stage of my entire life, and I am absolutely unwilling to let the curtains fall on my performance just yet!'

'My story does not end here. From the moment I signed the Construct Protocol, the pen that writes my destiny has rested firmly in my own hands!'

A fierce conviction erupted within him, causing the dark aura radiating from his body to grow increasingly dense.

And now, this dark aura was undergoing a subtle transformation.

Previously, it had been a murky, indistinct blackness. But now, this darkness possessed a luminous quality, as if it were beginning to glow.

In front of a Mountain Manor far from the Estate, Nemus and Krew were watching Fass's performance.

If before, Fass was merely a chess piece—a pawn meant to introduce the Construct Protocol to the world and then disappear from the public eye as its expendable outer shell...

Then the moment he made the conscious decision to push forward, his status as a mere chess piece vanished from Nemus's eyes.

Just as Nemus had told Krew earlier, their ideals were a flower taking root amidst decay.

Nemus was utterly ruthless in his methods, holding absolutely no "goodwill" toward this world.

The world itself was rotting, and Nemus too had succumbed to the rot.

But that single flower known as ambition—that should not rot.

That was why Nemus had come here in person, hoping to witness Fass's final performance.

Whether the boy succeeded or failed, Nemus would be there to bear witness.

Fass, situated at the very epicenter of the battlefield, remained completely unaware of Nemus's gaze.

Or rather, from the moment Nemus deliberately severed their connection, this battle—though entirely orchestrated by Nemus—no longer had anything to do with him.

This was entirely Fass's own choice.

Fass's Mental Power continuously emanated outward, causing wisps of black "mist" to drift wildly through the surrounding air.

Even though it was daytime, the area had become as gloomy as a rainy evening, plunging the sky into darkness.

At this moment, despite having awakened his Third Eye, he could still sense that he had not truly ascended to the Iron Rank.

A significant barrier still stood in his way.

If he could completely refine the black mist cloaking his body into that luminous dark brilliance, perhaps then he would truly succeed.

Right now, he was still missing just a tiny fraction—and that minuscule fraction could very well be the difference between life and death.

'The pressure still isn't enough!' Fass felt his Mental Power completely erupting and boiling over, yet it was still barely insufficient to break through the barrier separating him from the Source Origin of true power.

'Should I just blow it all up and take them down with me?!'