‘Isis had already guessed a thing or two from Beacai’s reaction, but she chose not to expose her. Instead, she merely hummed softly, feigning annoyance as she spoke.
‘When she had written that wish on the bamboo slip, she had anticipated Beacai would peek at it. That was precisely why she had done it.
‘Perhaps, remaining to witness the rituals offered by her numerous followers was a form of torment?
Isis covered her mouth, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Soon, the celebration entered its final phase. Scented Street, at its furthest reach, connected directly to Blood Plaza. One after another, prison carts laden with magical beasts slowly traversed Scented Street, carving a path through the thronging crowd until they reached Blood Plaza.
The chiming of wind chimes hanging from the cages mingled with the roars of the beasts. The crowd parted, scattering to either side to allow the prison carts to pass. Trailing behind these grim vehicles were numerous opulent carriages belonging to the church.
“These are…”
“This is the final segment of the celebration. The faithful offer sacrifices to the deity, hoping to receive divine blessings in return.”
Beacai offered a brief explanation, then led Isis to observe from outside Blood Plaza.
At that moment, Blood Plaza lay deserted. Several altars, intricately carved with blood-red patterns, materialized out of thin air. A few high-ranking Blood Cultists, cloaked in black robes, stood on either side of the altars, appearing to be their solemn guardians.
Once the prison carts reached Blood Plaza, the bound magical beasts were dragged onto the altars. Their limbs were then magically secured to the ground. Following this, a group of cultists, clad in bishop’s vestments, disembarked from the carriages.
In their hands, they bore staffs symbolizing status and authority, while noble coronets adorned their heads. Their formation was like stars orbiting the moon, with an elder standing prominently at the very front.
Undoubtedly, this elder was the current Pontiff of the Blood Church, the most devout servant of the Blood God.
Approaching the magical beasts, the Pontiff, alone, tremblingly raised both hands, lifting his staff above his head. He then chanted words Isis could not comprehend, his aged body swaying in a manner that suggested a ritualistic dance.
When the dance concluded, he nodded, signaling to those on either side. A group of bishops then approached the beasts on the altars, long swords in hand, and with horrifying precision, plunged them into the creatures’ throats amidst their terror-stricken gazes.
With their throats pierced, the beasts were unable to let out a single cry. Blood slowly seeped from their wounds. A nearby bishop extended a sacred vial, carefully collecting all of the flowing blood.
One of the bishops presented the blood-filled sacred vial to the Pontiff. After displaying the vial to the assembled crowd, the Pontiff tilted his head back and drained its contents in a single gulp.
A trickle of blood escaped the corners of his mouth, tracing a path down his aged neck before disappearing into his vestments. Few, however, noticed this detail. The attending faithful were utterly captivated by the Pontiff’s devotion, silently praying for the descent of the Blood God.
The entire ritual site exuded an eerie, sinister aura. Even though Isis knew these rites held no true terror, a distinct feeling of revulsion stirred within her.
‘Anyone witnessing this atmosphere would surely conclude that the Blood God was a malevolent deity. Was there truly any need to drink beast blood? And even if it was necessary, why insist on killing them on the spot?’
‘Isis increasingly suspected that Beacai’s reputation as an evil god was entirely cultivated by these very cultists.’
Typically, Beacai would have already departed the ritual site by now. Her usual practice was to occasionally bestow her blessings, allowing her followers to perceive the presence of their deity.
Alas, to fulfill her mother’s wish, she had no choice but to remain, patiently waiting for the ritual to conclude.
Moreover, she genuinely wished to shield Isis from the sinister aspects of these rituals. As Yggdrasil, her mother would likely find such ceremonies abhorrent.
Thus, every second spent here was sheer agony for her.
Isis tilted her head, discerning a hint of Beacai’s thoughts from her demeanor. Then, recalling something, she let out a soft laugh.
Beacai couldn’t fathom why Isis was laughing, but to divert her attention from the ritual, she inquired, “Mother must have experienced these things before, right?”
“Yes, I have indeed experienced them. But what I didn’t expect, Beacai, is that you actually enjoy these rituals?”
Crossing her arms, Beacai looked somewhat displeased. “I don’t like these rituals at all! What I truly cherish are the things you give me, Mother.”
Conjuring the cat doll out of thin air, she hugged it close and rubbed her face against it with vigor. The doll, in turn, let out a few delicate meows, effortlessly stirring a sense of protectiveness in anyone who witnessed it.
“Then why don’t you leave? If it were me, and followers offered rituals I disliked, I would simply distance myself from them and casually scatter some divine power their way.”
Isis mischievously posed a question she already knew the answer to. Beacai’s eyes darted about for a moment before she stammered, “I, uh, I’m not leaving, mainly to keep Mother company.”
“Oh, so that’s it.”
Withdrawing her gaze from Beacai, Isis didn’t press the matter further. Once all the magical beasts on the altars had been slain, the first wave of rituals was declared complete.
Beacai gently stroked the cat in her arms. Above Praerie, divine power gathered, resembling fragmented crimson clouds. Witnessing this, the multitude of faithful knelt, silently reciting their doctrines, and worshipping the descent of their deity.
Even the Pontiff, standing at the center of the plaza, was no exception.
The crimson clouds transformed into droplets, drifting down like rain. Those struck by this divine shower felt a mysterious new power surge within their bodies, and chronic ailments that had long defied cure were instantly healed.
All of this stemmed from the blessing of their deity!
“A blessing, it’s Her Eminence’s blessing! She is watching over us!”
Someone uttered these words, and those already prostrate buried themselves even deeper, their reverence intensifying. To receive a deity’s blessing was an unparalleled stroke of fortune.
After the crimson clouds dissipated, the faithful slowly rose, turning their gaze to the now-empty altars. The ritual had now entered its second phase: offerings from individual devotees.
To please the deity, individual followers could also present their own offerings. These sacrifices could be chosen freely, with no mandatory requirements.
However, according to years of tradition, these offerings were ideally related to blood, as this increased the likelihood of Her Eminence accepting them.
Many devotees approached the altars with this very notion, their offerings predominantly consisting of magical beast blood or rare treasures associated with blood.
Witnessing this, Isis walked past Beacai, joining the procession of devotees heading towards the altars.
In her hand, she carried a beautiful jewelry box.
Beacai’s eyes widened. As she watched Isis’s retreating back, a realization dawned on her, and a smile she couldn’t suppress curved her lips.