Sudden Upheaval

“The Holy Son has descended?!” Archbishop Yvon gasped under his breath. Cutting his speech short, he hurried away, swiftly retreating from the crowd’s sight. His behavior lacked composure, but the townsfolk noticed nothing amiss. They continued to sing and dance, celebrating what was supposed to be the finest day in Enrold Town's history. Yvon entered the headquarters office and summoned all four bishops. After waiting a short while, only three arrived. “Where is Sean? Why didn’t he attend the rally?” Yvon frowned. Sean had rarely shown his face over the past few days. “He’s at the Holy Gate. Tonight is critical, and he doesn’t want any slipups at the final moment,” one of the bishops chimed in, making an excuse for Sean. Yvon nodded, reluctantly accepting the explanation. They had walked ninety-nine steps; they could not afford a blunder on the final one. However, rather than an excuse of caution, Yvon was more inclined to believe Sean was sucking up to the Lord of the Void, standing guard right beside the idol to curry favor with their Master. *Hah, clever fool!* *The Master has already conveyed a new mission to me. The Holy Son has descended! No matter how humble and pious you act, your standing in the church could never match mine, let alone bear comparison to the Holy Son.* Yvon felt quite jealous. He had run himself ragged for the Master of the Void, yet his status was lower than that of some Holy Son who had just dropped from the sky. For a moment, a heavy ache pressed on his forehead—the sinking feeling of an old flame pushed aside by a new favorite, cast off by his Master. Even so, Yvon remained utterly loyal. Suppressing his gloom, he said to the three bishops, “The plan has changed. We must begin the sacrificial ritual ahead of schedule.” “Why?” “Have enemies infiltrated?” The three bishops were utterly baffled. “There is indeed a little rat, but nothing to fear. Even left alone, they couldn’t stir up much of a storm.” Yvon thought of the mysterious figure spying on him; their use of carrier birds was so clumsy and crude that calling them a novice wouldn't be an exaggeration. Disregarding such small fry, he changed the subject: “Just now, I received an oracle from the Master of the Void. The Holy Son has descended, right near Enrold Town.” “What?!” “The Holy Son has descended...?” The three bishops beamed with ecstatic delight. Though they had no idea what the Holy Son represented or what rank he would hold within the church, the Master of the Void delivering an oracle in person was unquestionably a blessing for the Church of the Earth's Core. Their fortunes rose and fell with the church, their faith and interests intertwined. Immediately, each of them began painting glorious visions of the Holy Son's arrival. Yvon caught their expressions, and his jealousy toward this heaven-sent Holy Son grew deeper still. Concealing it behind a composed face, he said plainly, “Don't celebrate too soon. The Holy Son has only just descended and is filled with confusion about himself and his future. He has strayed onto the wrong path, incurring the Master's displeasure...” “The Master of the Void commands us to bring the Holy Son to the Holy Gate with all haste. He will personally guide the straying Holy Son back to the light.” “...” x 3 The three bishops flushed red, so excited they could barely string words together. The Master of the Void was descending today! To witness such an event with their own eyes made them feel deeply honored, even flattered beyond measure. “Mark, come with me to the Holy Gate. We will sacrifice the prisoners to awaken the King of the Underworld and rouse her children. Kent, Melville, the two of you will retrieve the Holy Son. Whatever it takes, bring him back.” Issuing the command, Yvon shared the red-marker vision and exhorted, “Listen closely, both of you. The Master’s orders are to bring him in at all costs. Even if today’s sacrifice fails, the Holy Son must be retrieved.” Kent and Melville bowed their heads to accept the order, though their faces twitched with a hint of bitterness. The Holy Son was exalted in status and bound to hold immense authority in the future; whether he would sit as an equal to the Archbishop remained to be seen, but he would definitely ride roughshod over the two of them. The Archbishop simply didn't want to play the villain and offend the Holy Son, so he shoved the dirty work onto them. *What’s the big deal? Once the Holy Son arrives, the Master of the Void will speak only with him. You old bastard will lose your standing sooner or later.* x 2 *Just wait until I latch onto the Holy Son’s coattails—then we’ll see who has the last laugh!* x 2 Kent and Melville turned and left. Following the guidance of the red marker, they drove off toward the villa manor. To show due respect to the Holy Son, they specifically mustered thirty devout believers to form a modest honor guard, even borrowing luxury sedans belonging to the mayor and town dignitaries. *** Meanwhile, Archbishop Yvon and Mark arrived at the chicken farm. Entering through the bishop’s private passage at the back door, they bypassed the tunnels and took an elevator directly down into the underground plaza. The plaza looked the same as always. Guards held their posts, each occupied with their duties. Yvon first offered a heartfelt prayer to the divine idol in the center of the spring, then ordered the guards to bring up the prisoners kept in the dungeon. “There are no prisoners. They were transferred to another prison...” *Where would we get another prison? The police station?* Yvon was taken aback. Learning that Sean had given the order, he flew into a rage and told the guard to pass along a message: Sean was to explain his actions right here before the idol of the Master of the Void. Such was the nature of leaders: walking was out of the question. Even if someone were right next door, the subordinate had to come present themselves in person. Before long, a hooded Sean walked out of his office, his head lowered and back hunched as he hurried before Yvon. Faced with the Archbishop's reprimands, Sean admitted his fault and accepted punishment, not daring to talk back in the slightest. Seeing Sean’s sincere contrition, Yvon pressed no further, nor did he ask where the prisoners had gone. A few insignificant nobodies—if Sean had played them to death, so be it. The underground plaza was never short of sacrifices; they could just seize a few guards and throw them down. “Sean, I have heard the oracle of the Master of the Void: the Holy Son has descended. Prepare yourself. We are accelerating the plan. Initiate the sacrificial ritual at once and awaken the children of the King of the Underworld,” Yvon ordered. Sean froze, asking in surprise, “Who is the Holy Son? Why haven’t I heard of him before?” “That is not for you to concern yourself with. Begin the sacrifice immediately. Understood?” Yvon said, his tone sharpening. “Archbishop, I am not questioning your orders. It is just that I, too, have heard an oracle from the Master of the Void. He told me this...” Sean raised his head and slowly pulled back the hood concealing his face, revealing a mushroom with a red cap and a white stem. “???” Yvon and Mark froze in shock. Before either could speak, Sean clutched his head and let out a bloodcurdling shriek of agony. His body rapidly dehydrated, skin shriveling tight, face withering like dry tree bark. His eyeballs bulged, gums receded into view, and his hair turned grizzled white in an instant. In his place, the mushroom atop his head swelled dramatically. With a loud pop, it ruptured, scattering countless fine green spores like a cloud of smoke drifting into every corner of the plaza. The upheaval struck in a heartbeat. Bishop Mark turned pale with horror, raising his sleeve to shield his face. It was too close and too sudden; unable to cast defensive magic in time, he could only scramble backward. *Bang!* A kick landed squarely on his rear, sending Mark tumbling headfirst into the green dust. As if alive, the dust drilled through his mouth, nose, and pores beneath his skin. Screaming, he was parasited by the spores. Vines and shoots sprouted from his flesh, every unfurling green leaf siphoning away another measure of his vitality. In just a few breaths, Mark shriveled into a mummy. Drained of every ounce of nourishment by the vegetation, his brittle body snapped alongside Sean's, crashing to the ground and crumbling into dust. Dust and green leaves—old life nurturing the new. Yvon’s pupils constricted. Luckily, he had thrust his leg out in time to make Mark step forward, or that fate would have been his own. Even so, caught in the close-range ambush, Yvon was touched by a good deal of spores. A patch of his sleeve was dyed green, and his entire right arm was already growing numb as vines began burrowing out. Around the plaza, numerous guards touched by the dust shrieked and rolled across the ground, fertilizing the earth with their very lives and turning the underground plaza into a lush green garden. Without hesitation, Yvon flattened his left palm like a blade, wrapping wind cutters around his fingers to sever his right arm. At the same time, he exhaled a tempest to blow away the green mist. The gale swept the entire floor, blasting spores against walls and corners or hurling them directly out into the tunnels surrounding the plaza. This spelled disaster for the surrounding guards. Many who had narrowly escaped the initial blast hadn't even had time to thank the Lord of the Void before a faceful of descending spore dust hit them, staging another round of falling petals turning to spring soil to nourish new flowers. Outside the plaza, seven or eight unlucky sentries posted along the way had no time to dodge. Swept up by the draft tearing through the tunnel, they plunged screaming into the bottomless abyss. *Thump-thump!* Like the rhythm of a heartbeat, vast swaths of blue light motes bloomed. A colossal tentacle slithered and crawled upward along the sheer cliff face. Hearing the sound, Yvon’s gloomy expression brightened slightly. The enemy had lain in wait for a long time, but he was not entirely unprepared. Interrupting the sacrificial ritual wouldn't be so easy. Clutching his bleeding right arm, he barked coldly, “Show yourself, nature-worshiping heretic! The King of the Underworld has awakened! Come forth to receive judgment, and welcome the arrival of the Master of the Void alongside this town!”