The Holy Mountain, the heart of the Pope's Kingdom.
Inside the mountain's belly, a nauseatingly thick stench of blood filled the air. A massive pit, a hundred meters in diameter, occupied the entire underground space. Viscous crimson liquid churned within; every drop was high-purity Essence of Life extracted through an Alchemy Array.
BUBBLE BUBBLE.
In the center of the Blood Pool, the liquid bulged upward, coalescing into a blurred, humanoid blood shadow. A suffocating fluctuation of energy permeated the air, though the arrays within the Holy Mountain completely masked its presence.
By the pool's edge, the Pope, clad in a gold-threaded white robe, knelt on both knees. His forehead was pressed tightly against the freezing Obsidian floor, and he didn't even dare to breathe too loudly. Outside, he was the spokesman of the Holy Spirit, worshiped by countless people; here, he was nothing but a fawning dog wagging its tail for scraps.
