Becoming a God Starts with Acting-Chapter 179: [Blizzard Manor] - Prophet’s part (26)

Zara hurried forward to catch Susan, lifting one hand to form a dome of light that once again shielded all of them. Jessica didn’t even spare her a glance, merely saying slowly, "This battle—we’ve already won."

The flames grew ever stronger. The monster kept swaying, and its hands quickly burned into ash. The pile of skulls on the ceiling creaked endlessly before suddenly losing all control—an avalanche of skulls rained down at once, nearly burying the three of them.

"Fwoosh!"

The flames still raged. Even though the monster’s body had almost turned to dust, the fire wouldn’t stop until completely destroyed!

"All right. Let’s get out of here," Jessica said calmly, then took the lead toward the door. The place had already been scorched by fire, leaving behind no other clues—only the revelation that so many skulls had been gathered here, enough to form a skull-shaped monster.

Zara quickly supported Susan, and they followed Jessica.

Susan said coldly, "We never should’ve placed hope in those already corrupted. We should’ve killed them from the beginning."

If they had, the others wouldn’t have died so senselessly—ambushed by their teammates.

She should’ve dealt with them the moment she noticed something was wrong!

Susan’s eyes grew increasingly dark, her expression twisted, losing her usual calm and gentle demeanor.

Zara couldn’t help but frown slightly, casting a worried glance at Susan. She felt something was... off about her. Though she’d always known Susan wasn’t truly kind or gentle, there was something uncanny about her state now.

Jessica also looked at Susan—her head was slightly bowed, and she kept muttering to herself.

"You’re the one who’s being corrupted, Susan." Jessica’s voice wasn’t loud but clearly reached Susan’s ears.

Susan blinked in confusion and looked up. Her blue eyes were now being consumed by darkness, turning eerily unnatural.

It was as if Jessica’s words had snapped her out of it. She blinked a few times and gently shook her head. The darkness in her eyes receded, but her expression grew even heavier.

Jessica said coldly, "Maybe that’s the effect of the food. Don’t let your emotions spiral out of control."

She wasn’t just speaking to Susan—it was a reminder for Zara and herself. None of them knew how much-contaminated food they had unknowingly consumed.

Susan lowered her gaze and said nothing more. They quickly opened the door, and the blinding light from outside made them instinctively squint. The door behind them had long slammed shut—perfectly intact, as if it had never been damaged.

"What the hell?!" Jessica roared as she looked down at her outfit. At that moment, Susan and Zara also noticed the maid uniforms they were now wearing. It was as if they had just been dragged into an entirely different world—altogether different identities.

Even to the naked eye, the mansion now looked brighter and more pristine, as though untouched by the passage of time.

Zara’s ears twitched slightly. She glanced back toward the room they had just escaped from and said in a low voice, "There’s someone in there."

She then looked to Susan and Jessica for confirmation.

Jessica glanced at Susan, silently acknowledging that command authority now rested with her.

Seeing this, Susan decisively said, "Let’s head downstairs first."

The other two had no objections. Meanwhile, Drake’s group was busy clearing it out inside the room under Vincent’s orders.

Luis glanced at Bella, about to say something when a loud crash echoed. A priceless antique vase had fallen to the ground and shattered into countless pieces—beyond any hope of repair.

Drake stood to the side, completely unfazed, making it hard not to suspect that he might have intentionally used a bit of extra force when breaking the vase.

Not only the others but even Vincent turned his gaze toward Drake and the shattered remnants on the floor, his expression growing darker, fury burning in his eyes.

"BANG!"

Vincent slammed the table and stood up. "You can’t even handle something this simple? Get out and accept your punishment. None of you deserve to keep working here!"

He was terrifyingly aggressive—utterly different from how the butler had described him in his journal.

According to the butler’s journal, Vincent was an overly gentle master, almost saint-like. At the very least, he would never have said something like this to a servant over such a minor mistake.

Drake kicked his chair aside and walked out, not caring much about Vincent behind him.

"Looks like what the chef said was the truth after all," Bella muttered as she stepped outside.

Even Fiona, who rarely agreed with Bella, nodded slightly. "Seems like it..."

Luis frowned, still lost in thought. "But if what the chef wrote was true, then the butler and the two maids shouldn’t be so loyal to Vincent."

Harry said, "Maybe the butler and the maids are part of something shady too..."

Luis said nothing.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Silvanus—still in the guise of a detective—had reentered the mansion.

He headed straight for the kitchen and knocked on the door.

It quickly opened, revealing the tall figure of Chef Ethan standing in the doorway. His shoulders were slouched, and the box over his head made him look stranger. Silvanus couldn’t help but wonder—what were the chances that Ethan would lose his mind if someone took that box away?

But, of course, it was just a thought.

When Ethan saw the detective, he lowered his head, seemingly nervous. He didn’t say a word, and the eye visible through the box darted wildly like a panicked squirrel.

The detective raised an eyebrow, giving him a strange look. "I’m investigating the mansion. It’s the kitchen’s turn now. Please step aside."

Ethan froze momentarily at those words, then quickly slinked to the side without a word.

Unbothered, the detective stepped into the kitchen. Behind him, Ethan silently closed the door.

The kitchen was a mess. Blood splattered the walls around the meat prep area. A large bone lay on the chopping board, with meat scraps clinging to it and scattered all around.

The pots and pans were blackened like they hadn’t been cleaned in ages. The floor was filthy, with streaks of some black liquid oozing around, giving off a pungent, sickly stench. Flies swarmed everywhere. It was hard to believe this place had been used to prepare food. It was pure chaos.

It was even harder to imagine that the master of this mansion hadn’t fallen ill after eating food made in such an environment. It was harder still to understand why he hadn’t fired this chef yet.

Silvanus thought that if he were the butler, he’d be furious too—but probably wouldn’t be able to do anything about it either. After all, their master was too kind. So kind, it wasn’t very smart.

"Where do you usually sleep, Ethan?" the detective asked.

Ethan flinched and blinked rapidly before he finally began stammering a reply: "I... I live in... in..."

His voice was hoarse, like someone who hadn’t spoken in a long time—stammering and stumbling over his words. Even after a while, he still hadn’t clearly said where he lived.

He started gesturing wildly, still holding onto the large knife in his hand, making Silvanus feel as if that blade might slice his throat open at any moment.

"There are flowers there... and my friend. We’re delighted..."

Ethan continued speaking. After a while, Silvanus couldn’t help but start imagining some heaven.

[Haha, "friend" probably means the pig in the pen next door.]

[This illness is getting worse. Ethan’s looking more and more like a real killer.]

[He is a real killer. Might be about to level up, haha.]

The comments started scrolling in again. Silvanus, meanwhile, had gotten the information he needed. It seemed Ethan had been kept at the farm behind the mansion. But why? There was a room for him inside the mansion.

Thinking about it, the butler didn’t like Ethan—and he managed the entire estate behind Vincent’s back. It wasn’t out of the question that the butler had lied to Vincent and locked Ethan up elsewhere, in harsh conditions, hoping he’d leave the mansion on his own. That way, Vincent wouldn’t have to dirty his hands and could still claim the moral high ground.

"My friend is pink... I like flowers..." Ethan continued rambling, and the comments just kept laughing.

[Maybe that fat pig is a chubby girl in Ethan’s eyes.]

[I’m starting to feel a bit grossed out now.]

[We can get weirder, hahaha.]

[Why can’t it be a chubby boy?]

[Alright, that’s enough.]

Silvanus lowered his gaze, eyes devoid of emotion. He could now confirm with certainty that Ethan was the main boss of this dungeon. And this dungeon seemed so blurred between reality and illusion—he might finally have an answer for that, too.

Silvanus quietly stared at Ethan, who was still passionately describing his "dear friend."

Then, without warning, the detective stood up and said calmly, "Alright, you may continue with your work."

With that, he turned and left. Ethan barely reacted, merely watched the detective’s back, and then resumed working, hammering sounds echoing once more. It was unclear who he was even talking to anymore.

Silvanus exited the kitchen and immediately ran into the butler. He asked straight away:

"Ethan doesn’t live in the mansion?"

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