After work, start to speedrun the other world-Chapter 207 - 68 Sadness and Despair

Temple of Blood.

Mist looked up at the God of Blood atop the Divine Throne.

The figure wasn’t as burly and holy as the bards had described; it resembled more a mummified corpse, skin clinging to bones, sunken eye sockets oozing heart-stopping blood.

"God of Blood, you... are dying." She declared, her hand already gripping the long knife, ready to counter any moment.

Yet, such blasphemy was met with no response from the God of Blood, as if it had truly died.

And it was at this instant that Mist realized something—she had the opportunity... to kill a deity.

Gods, originally without the concept of death, thus by that definition couldn’t be killed, but the God of Blood had been forcibly endowed with the concept of death.

Now she could kill the God of Blood, and by killing it, all cultists of Church of Blood would lose the power of their blood prayers, meaning Ahtal could break free from the barrier’s seal.

And her brother could also avoid the God of Blood’s humiliation; she could save the two people she cared about most in one go.

Thump, thump—

Footsteps echoed in the temple, Mist stepping closer to the God of Blood without any hesitation.

However.

"Stop advancing, mortal!" The commanding voice rang out, and under Mist’s gaze, blood spilled from the God of Blood’s body, pooling on the ground and forming a blood puddle.

Then, from the pool of blood, a man emerged. Strikingly handsome, wielding a gem-incrusted staff, clad in the vestments of a Pope, his aura closely resembling that of the God of Blood.

"The Blood Pope, actually the consort of a god, is truly unexpected." Mist’s voice was eerily calm, her pace unabated.

She wouldn’t miss the chance to kill the God of Blood, despite a god’s consort sharing the deity’s authority, helping to explore the limits of their path together.

But in the end, it was just that—shared. As long as the god, the source of the power, weakened, the consort’s strength would wane.

They couldn’t maintain power equal to that of a god.

"Even if my Divine Power has weakened..." The Blood Pope shook his head slightly, his expression turning cold.

"It doesn’t mean I’ve become weak."

No answer.

Mist drew her sword, its blade cleaving the air, colliding with the Blood Pope’s scepter.

"Boom!" The clash reverberated through the Temple of Blood, as the two beings, transcending the limits of the human realm, engaged in a fierce battle.

Meanwhile.

In a room with its doors tightly shut.

"..." A man with a cross-shaped scar on his face couldn’t help but twitch his lips, "Can’t we just join forces and capture Ahtal?"

He voiced his speculation.

"With the amount of Magic Power Ahtal has left, he probably can’t invoke the Sword of Light."

To this, a muscular woman, running her hand through her short golden hair, asked with an expression suggesting the man was making a painful suggestion:

"Have you ever used the Sword of Light? Do you know how much Magic Power is needed to activate it?"

She yawned.

"Whether it is two people fighting Ahtal together, or ten, the threat of the Sword of Light remains the same."

"If one person can deal with Ahtal alone, then it’s better for one to do it alone." With an indifferent tone, she stated a chilling fact, quashing the man’s idea of ganging up on Ahtal.

The man scratched his head and sighed:

"In the past, I’d hear about villains in stories who could’ve defeated the hero by ganging up, yet they’d go one by one... to their doom."

He smirked wryly.

"Now I kind of understand why." With that, he stood up and left the meeting room, pushing open the door without looking back, his figure vanishing into the sunlight.

Seeing this, the muscular woman leaned back in her chair, looking up at the ceiling light, knowing that she would be the next to fight Ahtal.

But with Ahtal’s current condition, he probably stood no chance, unless he came up with another trick.

A few minutes later.

Word of the battle arrived—the man sent to capture Ahtal had died in combat.

Hmm... worthy of a Hero, indeed capable of the impossible.

There was good news, too; Ahtal’s Magic Power was indeed running out, to the point where he couldn’t even release a Dragon Breath anymore.

He was truly at his limit.

"Ge Gelan, it’s up to you now."

The head of the Heresy Tribunal spoke sternly with his fingers interlocked, addressing the strong woman.

"It doesn’t matter if you break his arms and legs, but you must capture him alive."

"Capturing him alive is just too much trouble." Ge Gelan stood up, waving goodbye to the others as she disappeared into the light and shadows of the doorway.

...

"Thump!" Ge Gelan leapt down from the building, her stout legs landing on the solid pavement, cracking it with spider-web fissures.

She raised her giant axe, pointing it at Ahtal who stood across from her in a pool of blood, seriously saying:

"You’re quite handsome, I’d like to have you once."

"Huh...?" Xi Mu tilted his head, as if he hadn’t heard clearly, and seeing this, Ge Gelan shook her oddly-shaped giant axe in his direction.

"If you lose to me, you’ll be at my mercy, and I’ve never tasted the flavor of a Hero before."

Xi Mu didn’t get angry, stating, "If you lose, I’ll just kill you."

This time, the woman he faced was named Ge Gelan, a rather well-known NPC character. As long as players made their avatars attractive enough and gained a certain reputation, Ge Gelan would lust for the player’s body.

If defeated, one would suffer both physical and mental humiliation at her hands.

Of course, the game’s official content wouldn’t provide explicit details of this humiliation, offering players only a text description: You have suffered a double humiliation, both physical and emotional.