Chapter 948, Even Gods, What?
Chapter 948, Even Gods, What?
Faced with Viktor's judgmental posture, the old woman's mask remained unmoved, her eyes showing not a ripple of emotion; she simply bowed even deeper.
“The spirits do indeed generally like these kinds of creatures. With their assistance, the spirits can exert greater strength, whether in daily research, prayer, or fighting when needed. The spirits can amplify their power and can also directly draw energy from them when necessary. In addition, their combat power is indeed remarkable, so we like to hire them.”
“I’m also hearing about what you’ve described for the first time. The secrets of the ancient universe are endless, and the Witch Spirit Cult has never recorded that humans could reach an agreement with some energy beings. This led to our insufficient scrutiny of their origins, and we never expected that they were human spies. I am willing to take responsibility for this and accept punishment.”
Viktor shook his head in disappointment.
"Old woman, old woman, even now, are you still trying to fob me off with these excuses?"
His fingers slid again.
The holographic projection suddenly switched, the perspective shifting from the battlefield to a bird's-eye view, clearly marked "Secret Archives of the Witchcraft Cult - Shadow Corridor".
A familiar, semi-transparent Storm Spirit's body structure undulated with remarkably regularity. Along with this undulation, an inconspicuous prism-shaped psionic information terminal in a corner of the archives, with an extremely hidden, pinhead-sized rune interface on its side, was simultaneously flashing an almost imperceptible glow.
This is receiving and transmitting information.
"This is something we only managed to capture using the 'True Sight' of three Bloodwalkers." Viktor's voice suddenly turned stern. "Every time it approaches the Shadow Corridor, the same information interface regularly leaks information. Old woman! Don't tell me that an energy entity would go out of its way to dance an energy dance in the corner where your cult hides its historical records!"
The old woman's eyes seemed to flicker with something: "The archives keepers reported that these mercenaries do indeed have a strong and strange curiosity about the ancient knowledge of the Eldar. But the Order adheres to its sacred laws and has never opened up its core secrets... I must emphasize again that we did not know they were human spies. This can at most be considered the Eldar's indulgence towards their adorable pets, please forgive us."
"The indulgence of a cute pet... You really know how to talk."
Viktor sneered as he hurled the third image at him!
No longer a battlefield or archive on earth, but an extremely eerie scan of the spiritual realm! Recorded by the "Soul Imaging Technique" performed by high-ranking witches of the Witch Spirit Cult! The image is extremely unstable, filled with screaming fragments of souls and a scarlet background.
In the center of the picture is an old woman!
She wore a magnificent priestess's robes, and her face was not a blank, silver mask, but a skull mask inlaid with blood-red gems, signifying her high priestess status. She was raising her hands high, presiding over a sinister ritual! Surrounding her were a dozen or so dancing priestesses. Their target—a struggling human figure bound to the top of the altar, formed from pure, painful memories!
The power of the ritual fluctuated violently, and a raging mental vortex connected above the altar.
At the edge of the vortex, several humanoid storm spirits were clearly visible.
They were not bystanders, but actively drawing upon the violent spiritual energy overflowing from the ritual.
Judging from their appearance, they seem to be used as 'batteries', serving as energy pools during the ritual, drawing energy to replenish the spirits in the process.
However, upon closer inspection, between the vortex and the heroic spirits, there is a faint flow of symbolic information that requires an extremely professional mind to decipher!
Those symbols... are incredibly precise, and their core structure clearly depicts a complex circuit that guides energy in a multidimensional space and connects nodes!
"Still trying to argue, old woman?"
"This is the 'Eye of Mensha' ritual you presided over. The cult's secret texts state that it requires a soul in pure agony to invoke Mensha's blessing, and then, by extracting energy, maintain the stability of all the Veiled Ports of Comoros. The ritual was successful, but tell me, why, after that day, did the energy flow diagrams displayed on the internal structures of these energy beings show rune sequences that are only found in the secret texts you possess?"
Everything has been exposed.
The old woman was a master of intrigue; she plotted many things, even those powerful spirits were unaware that they were able to collect and analyze the complete Veil Spirit Gate technology so quickly and smoothly because someone was secretly helping them.
She thought that doing it this way would make it flawless.
However, Viktor knew something that even the Storm Spirits didn't know.
The old woman's silver-white mask cracked into countless fragments like a spider web, revealing the face beneath—a pale face that still retained the elegance of age, with sharp, cold lines and deep eyes filled with sorrow.
"As expected of the Black Witch King, the most outstanding master of intrigue in thousands of years, you have managed to unite the Comoros under your command, accomplishing what countless scheming rulers could not do... Wise Black Witch King, since you have all the answers, why ask any more questions?"
“Because there’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time and haven’t been able to figure out.” Viktor’s voice didn’t change even though the old woman had finally admitted everything. “Why? Why did you do this?”
“I respect you, I trust you, and apart from this matter, you haven’t had any other contact with those humans. I’ve wondered if you introduced an external enemy to create a wave strong enough to overthrow me, but it seems that’s not the case now…”
"Then why is that? Please forgive my ignorance, and please, as always, enlighten me."
The old woman answered very decisively:
"For the sake of prophecy."
This answer greatly enraged Viktor!
He didn't seem to truly be as clueless as he claimed, unable to understand the old woman's motives. On the contrary, he seemed to have figured it out exceptionally well, so much so that when the old woman spoke, it was as if all the pent-up anger within him was ignited, causing him to display a tremendous loss of composure for the first time!
"For the sake of prophecy? For the sake of prophecy!!!"
“I believe your prophecy! I have done so much for this prophecy. I have reconciled the millions of forces, large and small, in the Comoros, making them believe that this prophecy determines the fate of every Eldar, and binding them to the war machine. I have diligently weakened the Infinite Chapter, constantly observing and seizing opportunities, and when necessary, mobilizing a large army to conduct a military operation in the warp, which is extremely dangerous for our race.”
“I’m almost there. Both Robert and Gu Jing, whom you predicted, have fallen into Comoros’ clutches. Even with some setbacks, everything is still under control. Only the final step remains: to slowly drain the blood of those humans. On our own turf, we have endless slave blood to spill.” “But you brought the Alliance in, revealing Comoros’ greatest secret. And then, at the most crucial moment, you stabbed me in the back.”
"Betrayal, betrayal. I have experienced countless betrayals in my life, but none have hurt me as much as this one."
"Old woman, old woman. What did I do wrong? The prophecy gave the Spirit Race a judgment of fate, and I was determined to put my fate in the Spirit Race's hands. Where did I go wrong?"
"Do you really insist on letting those so-called children of God make the judgment? Do you really not believe at all that our great race cannot control its own destiny and accomplish its own revival?"
Despite a barrage of questions, the old woman's attitude remained unchanged.
This 'daughter' of the god Mensha listened patiently until Victor's words, spoken with immense anger, stirred up an extremely fierce icy wind, before she finally spoke:
"This is Mensha's will, this is the fate of the Eldar. Our race has long since lost all vitality; a great revival is merely an unacceptable fantasy. There is no place for us in the future of the universe. Our only path is to join them as part of the cosmic overlords, to become one of them. Only in this way can we preserve our genes, our culture, our wisdom, and our gods..."
"God! God! God!!!" Viktor angrily interrupted the old woman, "So what if it's Mensa? So what if it's that human false emperor? Those four despicable and disgusting things in the warp are the same!"
"Let these gods die! Nothing can stop the great revival of the Eldar, nothing can stop me from taking my destiny into my own hands."
"Even if it's a god of our race, it's the same!"
Victor's face was magnified into a huge shadow by the light cast by the crystal prism.
After he had vented his anger, his entire body gradually calmed down.
The anger receded with the cold wind, leaving only a deeper, unfathomable silence. Eyes like deep pools slowly rose, churning with a sorrowful, utterly betrayed chill.
Perhaps, he already understood.
The one who betrayed him was not just the old woman, but the god Mensha, who stood behind her and was the other side of Windsor, worshipped by the Dark Eldar.
The Dark Eldar are fanatically worshipful of Mensha. Mensha worship is the largest religion in their society, and they frequently engage in bloody sacrifices using slaves and even other Dark Elves. This worship is initiated by the Witches, who believe themselves to be led by the old woman, 'Mensha's daughter'.
Victor was also a follower of Mensha, but now he scorned the god and mocked his pathetic state.
“I will not tolerate any being that manipulates me and my race at will, no matter what fate they use as an excuse.” He slowly shook his head. “Every grain of dust in the Comoros, filled with pain, will dance under my sword. If Mensha helps me, I will trust Mensha; if Mensha doesn’t help me, then he is just a damned warp creature, not worth caring about.”
"Even if everything is just a game and a toy played by those gods, if everything is predetermined and nothing can be changed, then I would rather lead the Eldar and the entire Comoros to sink into hell and into the dust of history!"
The crystal prism behind him shattered with his pronouncement. The light faded, and the enormous shadow cast upon Viktor beneath the throne receded.
His body leaned slightly forward, as if using all his strength to keep from collapsing. His withered, dark spirit face was covered with a layer of deathly ash, and he reached out his hand—not as an attack, but more as a powerless attempt to drive away.
“Take the sacrificial knife, old woman,” Victor’s voice whistled through the hollows of the skeleton. “Then, go down.”
That last, seemingly casual instruction was more chilling than any curse.
The old woman knew the outcome.
No words were needed to pronounce judgment; Victor's lifeless eyes, the faint sound of the broken stone railing, and the phrase "sacrifice knife" pointing to the final ritual were clear enough.
Her deep eyes gazed at the hunched figure on the throne for a long time, until finally, she let out a soft sigh.
The old woman did not resist her fate, just as she did not resist the fate of the Spirit Clan.
However, her gaze toward Victor gradually took on a hint of pity.
She looked away, no longer staring, and said nothing.
She bowed deeply and silently, bidding farewell to an old friend who had been with her for countless years.
Then, she turned slowly, extremely slowly, as if struggling in flowing amber. The hem of her raven-black robe brushed against the cold ground, trailing silently as she slid towards an inconspicuous arcade entrance at the edge of the council chamber, swallowed by deep darkness.
The darkness, like the gaping maw of a monster, slowly devoured her lonely and isolated figure until the last piece of her clothing disappeared into the surging, heavy shadows, as if she had never stepped into this hall filled with betrayal and judgment.
Only the faint scent of decaying incense and the withered figure on the throne remained in the air.
(End of this chapter)
