Chapter 159: Lances First Step Into Infiltrating the Church of Resurrection

Chapter 159: Lance's First Step Into Infiltrating the Church of Resurrection

While her laughter still echoed in the air, the door was gently pushed open, revealing a figure whose presence radiated a warmth akin to the sun. Her laughter was cut short abruptly, as if severed by a sharp blade.

The person appeared indistinct in the dim light of the corridor, yet she knew those gentle, emerald-green eyes certainly did not belong to the vampiric grim reaper she had been expecting.

The priestess of the Church of Resurrection froze instantly. She sat motionless like a stone statue. Her expression became vacant, as if unable to comprehend why the vampire had not arrived.

As Lance walked into the room with Hyperion, a cold draft from the corridor swept in, making the priestess shiver violently. Regardless of the actual situation, she knew one thing for certain: this was a nightmare from which there was no waking from.

Lance's voice was considerate, yet it rang out clearly in the silent night, "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

However, those words struck the young cultist's heart like a bolt of lightning, causing her to shudder violently. The gentler this bizarre fellow sounded, the more terrifying he became.

"The vampire count? So... the count hasn't arrived yet?!" The muffled syllables escaping her bound mouth vibrated through the air, proclaiming her despair and anxiety.

She finally understood what was going on. The time simply hadn't come yet. If she could just hold on a little longer, the vampire count would arrive and slaughter this entire group!

Suddenly, she began to laugh maniacally, and it was a wild, desolate sound that made Hyperion shudder as she carried in a table and chairs. She quickly transformed the torture chamber into a somewhat more conventional interrogation room.

She surveyed the room's mottled bloodstains, finding it hard to imagine what kind of torturers the Poet of Boundless Love had trained those three clergy to be, or the current state of the priestess's mind.

Lance had no intention of revealing the truth to the priestess just yet. Maintaining a polite demeanor and a calm expression, he sat in the chair opposite her and opened his notebook, ready to take notes.

Before long, the Poet strolled into the room, humming a tune with a peculiar melody. She circled the priestess, whose mental state was spiraling into madness, and whispered into her ear, "Is it Count Palokas you wish to see?"

The priestess looked at the Poet blankly. Ever since she heard the succubus’s voice, her emotions had become volatile and turbulent. A single, simple question threw her state of mind into complete disarray. She could not fathom the meaning behind the Poet's knowing smile, yet she was instantly gripped by an overwhelming sense of foreboding.

Noticing the priestess's expression, the Poet smiled and gave her arm a playful, light shake. “Come now, let’s open the door to a grand reveal.”

The very next moment, the door to Bedroom 202 swung open once more. The three members of the clergy entered, hauling in Count Palokas, who looked like nothing more than a desiccated corpse.

"My blood... give it back..." Palokas's hoarse, low moan was as harrowing as the wail of a demon from the depths of hell.

As for the three clergy holding him, the moment they laid eyes on the priestess, their mouths twisted into ghastly grins. It was as if they had just discovered a new toy, and their fingers began to twitch with eager, sinister anticipation.

"Hehe..."

One torturer held up the Blood Pressure Emergency Device, seemingly offering a "kind" explanation to the priestess about how Palokas had ended up in such a state. Or... perhaps he was contemplating trying the device on her as well.

The priestess's heart hammered like a heavy mallet. She let out a whimpering gasp as large tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Meanwhile, a cold sweat broke out all over her body, making her feel as though she had plunged into the icy waters of a winter lake.

"Kill me! Kill me! Just kill me—aaah!" The young cultist repeated the same phrase over and over, her voice slurred and incoherent as she screamed hysterically. Her mind had completely shattered.

The Poet stood behind the priestess, leaning down to whisper sweetly into her ear. "So? Did you get a good look at the count? Do you want the three of them to look after you for another night? Or perhaps for the next four days and nights?"

"No! Please, no!!!" The young cultist thrashed with every ounce of her strength. Her movements were so violent that they bordered on self-torture.

She should have realized from the timeline display of the Shadow Realm that the vampire count had already arrived. Unfortunately, her mind was in such disarray that she could no longer grasp even the most obvious facts.

However, seeing a Rank 7 vampire count subdued and tortured into such a wretched state by this group of brutal villains was beyond her comprehension. It felt more unreal than a nightmare!

The Poet's voice remained gentle, as if she were trying to lull the priestess to sleep. "So, you have only one choice... Do you want to answer Lance's questions honestly, or would you prefer to spend another four days and nights with those three?"

The cultist stared wide-eyed, her eyes trembling in terror as tears streamed down her cheeks. Finally, faced with a choice that felt like the difference between heaven and hell, she completely broke down. "I'll answer... I'll answer anything..."

"If I catch even the slightest hint of a lie, I'll call those three over. Do you understand?" The Poet's fingertips lightly traced the bloody welts on the cultist's body, sending a chilling, ticklish shiver straight to her very core.

The priestess nodded vigorously. She knew that with her emotions heightened, any slip-up or wavering in her demeanor would be glaringly obvious.

Then, the Poet stood behind the broken cultist and flashed a triumphant smile at Lance, signaling that the job was done.

"Poet, you're perfect in every way... except for your refusal to do housework."

Lance looked at the priestess, who was now completely won over and docile thanks to the Poet's expression of "love," and sighed. His summon possessed miraculous abilities that even high-level, sentient Epic summons of others lacked. Unfortunately, she adamantly refused to perform the simplest chores, practically expecting Lance to wait on her hand and foot.

Fortunately, the Poet wasn't a glutton like Talia. She rarely ate and was incredibly frugal. In fact, she even helped him make cards to earn money.

The Poet stuck out her tongue at him. "Well... I might consider sharing half the housework if you're willing to let me out twenty-four hours a day."

"I have to consider the safety of the entire student body." Lance remained unmoved. He knew full well that the Poet couldn't be released at will within Ikerite University. Furthermore, his mana regeneration rate wasn't high enough to sustain her existence outside indefinitely.

He didn't waste time making small talk with the Poet. He gave the priestess a moment to catch her breath.

Finally, he said in a gentle tone, "It's getting late, so let's keep this brief. I'll ask about the specific details later. But if you answer truthfully, I promise you won't be harmed again. Alright?"

The cultist nodded frantically, looking for all the world like a tamed creature. In her eyes, Lance now appeared to be the only angel around.

Even though she knew perfectly well that the man before her was the source of her greatest terror, she couldn't suppress a strange, intense sense of dependency on him. As long as he stopped people from hurting her, that was all that mattered.

She was ready to betray the Church of Resurrection to Lance. Even if returning to the real world meant being imprisoned in a high-security dungeon of the Krati Empire and facing unimaginable retaliation and relentless pursuit by the Church of Resurrection, she no longer wanted to be this guy's enemy!

Seeing her trembling in fear, too terrified to even meet his gaze, Lance felt a twinge of concern that he might have frightened her too much. So he stated this simply and directly, "Tell me: how can I join the Church of Resurrection?"

The priestess was momentarily stunned, wondering if she had misheard him. Before her mind could fully process the situation, Lance spoke to her as if she were his own student, "Help me join the Church of Resurrection, and I'll rescue you once I reach the Krati Empire. You aren't some discarded pawn. I will protect you."

His calm tone and the look of gentle affection in his eyes were all aimed at offering care to someone so starved of a sense of security.

The cultist looked up at Lance in disbelief. Suddenly, her thoughts raced in a whirlwind, only to settle into a strange sense of relief.

Sure enough, this man, the embodiment of madness, evil, and wickedness, was cut from the same cloth as them! Yet, she dared not imagine just how far this man would rise once he joined the church!

"I see you as a talent with great potential, someone with a bright future who simply lacks the right guidance. Even if Princess Alexia and the Church of Resurrection have cast you aside, I still need you. You are indispensable. You will have my support, my assistance, and my power..."

Under the influence of Lance's words, which were delivered with the air of a kindly mentor, the young cultist continued to tremble. However, within her chaotic gaze, mixed with fear and relief, a hint of fanaticism and pathological dependency began to emerge.

Hyperion stood nearby, her eyes wide with astonishment. Although she had known about Lance's plan to infiltrate the Church of Resurrection all along, watching him persuade the priestess like this, she felt as though he was committing a grave sin!