Chapter 362: Holy War, a Conspiracy?

Chapter 362: Chapter 362: Holy War, a Conspiracy?

The Fiend God spoke.

"That fellow Slaughter has really gone all out, using its ’Slaughter Coliseum’ rule to cover the underlying connections of this region and temporarily fool the main god’s sight. For a short time, absolutely no other Divine will notice the anomaly and come disturb our little game."

"Hmph."

The phantom known as the God of Slaughter let out a cold snort.

Its form was like a dark red vortex, constantly contracting and expanding.

Inside, illusions of clashing weapons and the wails of the dying flickered faintly.

Its voice was cold and violent, with a texture like grinding metal.

"Blocking the main god was costly, but it was worth it. This battlefield is now ours to use. We set the rules, and we choose how to select our prey."

The Fiend God chuckled, turning his attention to the fourth phantom, which had been silent all along.

"Assassination, you old thing, you’ve barely said a word since this started. You think the little brats you picked are a sure win?"

The phantom known as the God of Assassination was even more indistinct and unstable than the other three.

It was like a shadow that could dissipate at any moment, yet also like an invisible blade hidden in its sheath.

Its voice was nearly inaudible, yet it carried a chill that pierced straight to the soul.

"Strength and weakness are not decided by words. My Beloved are skilled in concealment and masters of the single strike. The outcome is yet unknown."

"Heh, quite confident, aren’t you."

The Fiend God was unfazed.

"Speaking of which, my little sweetheart has fused with a bloodline Talent. Her potential is limitless! She’ll be at her best on a chaotic battlefield like this!"

The God of Viruses suddenly interjected with a sinister tone.

"’Potential?’ Potential needs to be realized. My children may not have a high starting point, but their ability to evolve and adapt is unparalleled. Especially... after fusing with other excellent materials."

Its consciousness seemed to sweep over a point of light on the chessboard, one that represented a deceased Beloved.

The God of Slaughter snorted coldly again. "The bet is set. We’ll see whose Beloved kills the most Divine Favored of the Aberrant Gods. The losers must cede a portion of their authority. My authority of Slaughter, the God of Viruses’ evolutionary Source Material, the Fiend God’s bloodline essence, and the God of Assassination’s law of shadow concealment."

"Hahaha! That’s why we have to rely on you, brother Slaughter, to put in more effort and completely block all outside interference!"

The Fiend God laughed. "Otherwise, if the other Divine discover that their precious Beloved—the ones they’ve painstakingly nurtured for the Holy War—are trapped here by us to be slaughtered and harvested like fighting beasts, they’ll absolutely lose their minds! If they all attack us at once, even the four of us won’t be able to handle it."

The God of Viruses’ voice grew low, laced with a hint of resignation and cold pragmatism.

"It can’t be helped. The Holy War is imminent, and that ’System’ fellow has been conducting recruitment and trials with increasing frequency and cruelty lately.

We cannot enter the fray ourselves, so we can only rely on our Beloved to contend for us.

To increase our chances of victory, our only choice is to... reduce the power of the other Divine’s Beloved as much as possible before the Holy War officially begins. We can even seize the very essence of their Beloved to strengthen our own Chess Pieces. This is the way of survival."

Just then, the God of Slaughter’s phantom trembled slightly, as if it had sensed something.

On the chessboard, a crimson point of light that had belonged to it—one representing a certain Beloved—suddenly dimmed and went out.

"Hm?"

A trace of surprise flickered in the God of Slaughter’s consciousness, but there was little anger. It was more like an assessment of the loss.

"Solomon Ennis... was taken out. Killed by a newcomer who just recently received Divine Favor? Interesting."

"Heh heh!" The God of Viruses’ phantom immediately perked up.

It let out a series of snickers that sounded like bursting bubbles of decay.

"Brother Slaughter, since this piece of material has died, I’ll be helping myself! It’s the perfect ingredient to add to my new child, to make him a little more complete. After all, it was a fine material born from your Slaughter Art!"

The God of Slaughter fell silent for a moment and did not stop it.

It merely said coldly, "Virus, this scavenging of yours is hardly honorable. If you want to learn the God of the Undead’s tricks for controlling corpses, you should at least do it openly. What kind of skill is it to secretly convert another’s freshly-killed Beloved?"

"The means don’t matter; only the results do." The God of Viruses was not offended, but rather seemed somewhat pleased.

It was also making progress.

Among the Divine, the only real distinction was the gap in power.

"Besides, am I not just ’recycling waste’ for you? It’s better than letting him rot there. And anyway..."

The God of Viruses’ consciousness swept over the many other glittering points of light on the chessboard.

It paid special attention to the sources of a few particularly brilliant pillars of light, representing the "prey" that had been forcibly marked.

"The game has only just begun. Who will have the last laugh is still unknown.

Let us... continue to enjoy this feast of blood and fire that we ourselves have orchestrated."

The four phantoms of the Divine once again cast their "gazes" down upon the "Zombie Kingdom" instance below—a place they had forcibly transformed into a cruel hunting ground.

In the void, only the silent flow of Energy and the unfathomable, indifferent clash of wills remained.

And on the chessboard, every flicker or extinguishment of a point of light signified the struggle or fall of a life, each one adding an insignificant, yet essential... chip to this high-stakes divine wager.

...

Seraphina Sullivan knew nothing of the cruel wager unfolding in the void above her—a game played with living beings as chess pieces and life and death as the stakes.

All she could see was the instance before her, forcibly twisted into a hell of slaughter.

And the bone-chilling conditions for her return hanging over her head.

BANG!

The faint crack of a gunshot dissipated in the shadows of an abandoned water tower.

On a distant street, a Player who had been cautiously trying to ambush someone else suddenly stiffened.

A clean, round hole appeared between his eyebrows, and he collapsed to the ground.

[Ding! Player ’Locke’ (Level 3) killed! Current kill progress (3/5).]

The system’s notification, tinged with a strange echo, rang out in her mind.

Seraphina Sullivan expressionlessly retrieved the [Universal Sniper Rifle].

A barely perceptible ripple in Space lingered at the muzzle of the gun.

It had to be said, the advantages of the [Sniper] Profession were magnified to their absolute limit in this chaotic, cruel environment that encouraged ambushes and sneak attacks.

Extreme range, the unerring accuracy of Hundred Shots Hundred Hits, and the bizarre Effects of its converted Skills.

It made Seraphina Sullivan the deadliest Hunter in the shadows.

This Profession was perfectly suited for assassination, allowing Seraphina Sullivan to complete her tasks quickly.

Of course, that would be if not for the pillars of light on her and Sean Chandler.

With Sean Chandler’s powerful close-quarters protection and Flora Sullivan’s auxiliary watch, their small team, though a conspicuous target, was extremely efficient at hunting.

"Boss, nine o’clock, about eight hundred meters. A few more Players have appeared. They’re moving quickly in our direction."

Flora Sullivan’s voice came through, tinged with caution.