Swarming into the mountains, the drones projecting beams of intense light lit up the dim Lost City like countless lanterns. Perhaps this had been Jacob's original vision—to have his followers live here, isolated from the world, so he could guard his secret in peace. The city's design was similar to that of a Catholic cathedral: grand architecture, towering domes meant to awe believers. Combined with Jacob's personal charisma and oratory, he was confident he could attract enough followers to fill every house, turning the city into a true kingdom of heaven on Earth.
But throughout all related historical artifacts, not a single crucifixion of Jesus could be found.
That was a glaring inconsistency. It implied that the Divine Source was not the greatest secret of the Lost City. Yet the Undying Prophet refused to reveal anything beyond what he had already shared with Solomon.
This was how Jacob explained it to Lara:
"Who's ever seen a god? Who's ever seen a miracle?" he said, spreading his hands. "I came back to life because of magic. That magic didn't come from the heavens, so why should I worship what's up there? I was just an ordinary man. But if someone told you he could resurrect you, make you float—would you think he was a devil worshipper or a god? And let's not forget those glowing eyes. Even the Pope would have to acknowledge him."
Ever since Thor descended to Earth, a theory had taken root: that the gods of the past were actually aliens, like the Asgardians. This idea arose alongside the alien savior hypothesis—especially popular in Japan and South Korea—spawning many hybrid cults cloaked in Christianity and extraterrestrial themes. These so-called alien messiah cults preached "third kind contact" and doomsday survival, claiming only belief in aliens could lead to salvation. The Roman Church, under Pope Benedict XVI, strongly denounced the "God-as-alien" theory. A few European monarchies still holding onto constitutional rule were also displeased, as the theory undermined divine right and intensified calls to abolish royal families entirely.
Lara looked at the Prophet with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. Jacob's belief system seemed laughable to her—after all, Solomon was a man, not a god. To deify a person was the most foolish form of blind faith. As an archaeologist, she had never been particularly devout, and her supernatural experiences hadn't changed that. So she accepted his explanation easily enough.
Solomon, however, would say the Roman Church needn't worry about such foolishness. And the Queen of England had even less reason to fret.
After all, there were still plenty of people who believed the Earth was flat, with entire belief systems that "logically" supported it. Such fools would continue worshipping God and clinging to creationism. The Saxons of the Middle Ages had used religion to keep the masses ignorant, and modern Saxons still used religion the same way—without changing so much as a comma. Their laziness was almost comical. When leaving one day, Solomon had mischievously asked Sophia whether she thought the Earth was flat, earning an immediate eye roll from Jacob. A flustered Sophia had stormed out of the room.
"I know the Earth is round! Jerk!" she shouted, shaking her fists.
"Your sense of humor is astounding, my lord," Jacob said, helplessly. He had never seen such a young version of Solomon and never imagined the mage would have such a lively personality. "You showed me Earth from above, you know? For a kid from the countryside, seeing the planet from that height was life-changing. Of course, it made my evangelizing harder—not every peasant gets to fly."
"I'm sure I only did that because you said this now. Damn time loops—I'm getting more anxious about the future." Solomon shook his head, trying to maintain a cheerful demeanor. "I understand your use of religion as a unifying force, but you don't need it anymore. The Immortal City is their only refuge. Leaving them here is sending them to die. But I won't allow ignorant fanatics into the Immortal City. Convince them to accept education. I know I shouldn't rush—tell Sophia she's won. I'm giving them time, but they must give me answers in return. I believe science will make them smarter."
"As you wish, my lord," Jacob replied with a smile.
Expecting every villager to abandon their beliefs instantly was impossible—unless Solomon revealed the Stigmata and overwhelmed them with sheer charisma. But clearly, he had no intention of doing that. He now moved through the world like an ordinary man, cloaked in magic that made him unnoticeable to most. As he put it, it was a protective measure—for the aesthetic thresholds of nearby women.
Solomon's emotional detachment didn't surprise Jacob, nor did his calculated pragmatism. By now, Solomon had begun to exhibit a firm leadership style. He could make hard decisions. But he was also smart enough to know when to compromise for the best outcome. The villagers' faith had been part of them for over a thousand years—it was in their blood. Forcing them to rip it out would be more painful than anyone could bear.
"Beer?" Solomon asked casually.
"Of course, my lord," Jacob replied. "It's too cold to brew beer here. We used to trade furs, but for decades now, no one's even come to buy them. If you'd shown up any later, all you'd see were wild men in fur coats."
The high-speed spinning chainsaw easily sliced through ancient iron armor. The undead, scorched into mummies by the flame of life, were no match for the advanced alloys of the modern world. That flame burst forth in dazzling sparks as dried muscle and bone were shredded by the whining chainsaw blade. Catherine, wearing an irritated scowl, stomped the head of the last undead with her black iron high heel, extinguishing the pale blue fire in its skull. Dozens more bloodless corpses lay before her—courtesy of her explosive rounds. There was barely a complete body left, just a battlefield strewn with desiccated limbs.
Impatient as ever, Lara Croft had wandered off with Sophia, exploring the Lost City. While the fortress at the far end remained inaccessible, the historic ruins scattered across the city were enough to keep her busy. Unsurprisingly, the unlucky Lara Croft ran into a unit of undead. Those few remaining with a shred of intelligence tried to ambush the landing zone from multiple directions—but they hadn't considered that their iron armor made stealth impossible, and the blue flames flickering from their bodies lit them up like beacons in the dark.
Maybe they even had arthritis—there was no other explanation for the crackling noise their dry limbs made with every step.
No one could miss a slow, clanking swarm of glowing blue "fireflies" creeping through the shadows. Their ancient weapons posed no threat to the Sisterhood—barely enough to twist an ankle, let alone scratch Catherine's armor. All in all, Lara hadn't caused too much trouble. In fact, her combat skills earned a measure of respect from Catherine.
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