Sains' slender figure was enveloped by layers of cocoon-like plasma, resembling a deep red flower in full bloom.
"Dear guests. Release your desires, embrace me, and together we'll become the bones and blood in the cup, a part of this endless feast..."
Sains began her wild solo dance.
The flowing blood was like a curtain, faintly veiling her graceful form. Her body was as soft as cotton, yet as agile as a butterfly.
"Drive in the stakes to stop the spread of [Blood Control]."
Alvin, with his hands behind his back, coldly watched Sains dance unrestrainedly. His massive frame stood firm like a towering wall, unshaken by the blood pool that was about to reach his feet.
"Bang!"
Several rogue hunters armed with specially made silver-tipped arrows fired from their sniper positions on the second floor. The arrows tore through the air, their sharp sounds piercing the wind.
The stakes pierced the blood pool, their bodies glowing red-hot, causing the surrounding plasma to boil violently.
The blood pool truly stopped spreading, as if nailed to the marble floor.
"Even with only half a High Priest, she's still so hard to guard against... After all, this is a suicidal attack."
Alvin's expression was stern, his gaze fixed on Sains.
Even though the Secret Hunters had sensed her presence the moment she appeared, she still caused considerable casualties... But
This was a close combat operation against the High Priest, and casualties were inevitable.
This was an acceptable price.
"Activate the [Suppress Consciousness] and [Deconstruct Life] rituals in the museum... Then just wait for 'him' to arrive."
Alvin gave his final order to his subordinates and left the scene without looking back. It seemed he thought there was no need to watch any longer.
Two second-class large-scale rituals were successively initiated in the museum. Obscure incantations, shimmering with faint light, emerged from beneath the marble floor, targeting Sains' blood cocoon.
"The rituals are quite classical, probably prepared by the museum from the very beginning..."
Fran hid in the shadow of a pillar on the second floor, looking down at the constantly changing battle. Her gaze was calm and indifferent, showing no desire to intervene... because it was unnecessary.
Sains would die soon.
The Secret Hunters and the White Cup had set a trap for Sains, and she had willingly walked into it. Those who set the trap knew that once she stepped in, she would surely die, and she herself... was equally aware of this.
Vivian looked at the two who were watching the commotion with ease, feeling somewhat confused for a moment.
It was understandable that Dr. Fran did nothing. After all, she wasn't part of the Secret Hunters or the White Cup. And her personality was unpredictable, so it wasn't strange for her to do nothing.
But why is Sister Haida just watching as well?
In Vivian's impression, based on Haida's usual habits... she should have already rushed to the front lines, ready to let the switchblade get up close and personal with the cultists. But now, she is just standing beside Frank, choosing a spot with a good view to observe the battle, without taking any action.
Could it be that she has been infected by Dr. Frank with some strange psychological illness...
"Um, aren't we going to help?" Vivian asked somewhat uncertainly.
"No need."
Haida and Frank answered Vivian's question in unison.
Frank smiled and tilted her head, seemingly surprised by their synchrony. Then she obediently spread her hands, signaling Haida to explain.
"Director Alvin has already left, which means the 'Chief Hunter' is about to arrive... He doesn't like to be disturbed during his hunt."
Although explaining the reason to Vivian, Haida's gaze never left the dancing Sains.
She was waiting, waiting for someone's arrival.
...
[Suppress Consciousness] can weaken the self-awareness of creatures within the ritual, causing the subject to fall into mental fatigue.
If it lasts long enough, those within the ritual will completely lose their subjective intention to act, becoming nothing more than lifeless puppets.
And [Deconstruct Life] can gradually break down the life form of the subject, causing them to gradually revert to the most basic elements of life... a handful of calcium powder, or a wisp of carbon ash.
Under the influence of the two large-scale White Chalice rituals, the blood pool that had already been staked around Sains began to boil and contract violently, leaving behind a trail of black scorch marks.
The gruesome blood flowers quickly withered away, transforming into pillars of solidified scabs.
Sains tore through the congealed blood flowers, enveloping herself in a swirling curtain of still-vibrant blood. However, this sanguine barrier was instantly shattered by the impact of steel-core bullets, piercing through both the curtain and her body.
Yet, she merely laughed with a sense of euphoric abandon, completely unfazed by the dozens of black bullet holes riddling her form.
Placing her hands at her navel, Sains drew her glossy nails up and down, splitting her skin along the midline and exposing the raw, crimson flesh beneath.
Twisted and interwoven blood vessels and sinews writhed like a swarm of insects, or perhaps some kind of active incantation.
The two large-scale rituals within the museum immediately began to destabilize, their effects greatly diminished. They could no longer even manage to restrain Sains...
"It's a ritual! Sains has inscribed a ritual beneath her skin. No, it's more accurate to say... she herself is a moving ritual!"
A White Chalice debunker recognized the anomaly on Sains's body.
But the Red Chalice incantation, purely composed of flesh and blood, was far too obscure for him to discern the specific name of the ritual.
Moreover, the ritual she had inscribed into her flesh held a higher metaphysical rank, causing the effects of the White Chalice's secondary rituals to rapidly diminish.
"Guests, join me in witnessing His coming! Welcome the grace of God!"
The ritual etched into Saines' body blocked all attempts to target her, whether with arcanies or bullets. Even if you do not know the name, you can feel the overwhelming atmosphere... Obscure, vast, with a hint of undetectable majesty.
The ceiling of the museum began to be soaked with sticky blood, which seemed to rain down at any moment.
"What the hell is this..."
A faller bites his nails, anxiously watching the unnatural scene before him.
"It is a 'kind of ritual' to summon the incarnation of the red cup, called 'Summon the drinker'. If we do not stop, everyone in the museum will be sacrificed."
The indifferent voice sounded.
The breath of the visitor is cold without a trace of temperature, like the tide of the ice ocean, which can only feel the deep chill.
He wore a hunting suit under his winter coat, and a three-cornered hat of leather, his eyes hidden in shadow under the brim.
He is the father of Hayda, the funeral minister of the Order of the Secret Hunters, the famous paranoid, and the "chief hunter"
Ahem Moira.
"Well, you..."
The eliminator who just spoke saw Ya Heng, and for a time felt that the thoughts in his brain were hard to suppress.
Even the polite greeting was stuck in the throat.
Ahen ignored him and went straight to the already immanent Saines, a huge sickle cutting from his own
Floating out of the shadows, into his hands.
"It will be over soon."
"Is that you? It's you! You monster..."
Saines saw Ahen, the face was always fun expression finally appeared moved. Her silver teeth clenched, sending the few bits of plasma congealing into thorns and spiking toward Ahen.
Ahen did not avoid, just maintain the original posture before moving forward.
But his figure was getting lower and lower, as if he had stepped down the ladder into his own shadow, and the whole person was invisible. The bloody thorns fell in the empty place in an instant.
"Well, embrace death... A dancer."
Ahen's voice rang cold in Saines's ear.
He stepped up the stairs of Sarnes's shadow! And he hung the blade of his sickle over her neck...
With an unadorned cross cut, a mangled head fell to the ground with a fleshy thud.
"Well, even if the funeral minister came, but the sacrifice has been completed... I am still happy as a tribute... Wait for the moon, lambs who will not dance."
Saines' head on the ground murmured, and soon all the flesh and blood withered away.
Ahen glanced at her head, which had weathered and shattered with its bones, and stepped into his shadow with a cold snort
Among.
"Then wait until the next moon, and kill again."
...
This was the first time Vivian had seen the chief hunter's hand, and she felt it from the other side's understated movements
Never had a shock... It was pure power.
As the High Priest of the Crimson Cup, Sainth had almost no chance to resist and was defeated and killed the moment they made contact.
"Wait, why did that priest die just from having his head cut off?"
Vivian still remembered that Fran had completely stripped Sainth of all his flesh and organs, and crushed his heart before killing him.
How could the Chief Hunter kill him to dust with just one stroke?
"This is due to his relic scythe, 'Decapitating Throne.' Its effect is that anyone beheaded by it will die."
Vivian's eyes widened momentarily at Fran's answer, thinking how simple-minded that effect was...
"Well... the word 'die' is somewhat inaccurate; it should be 'utterly perished.'"
Fran kindly provided further clarification for Vivian. As she spoke, she discreetly touched the stitching on her own pale neck.
"On this point, Dr. Fran is not wrong."
Haidar slightly turned her gaze toward Fran. She seemed to understand her father well; this was not good news...
"Now that we've confirmed the other half of Sainth is dead, I'm also preparing to return to the clinic. Oh, if Sister Haidar is willing, we can go back together to complete the subsequent surgical treatments..."
Fran gently stroked her palm and eagerly extended the invitation to Haidar.
At that time, she had only performed the first four surgeries on the young nun, and had since been thinking about it, hoping to find an opportunity to complete the follow-up procedures.
"Thank you for your kindness, but it's not necessary for now… I'm still adjusting to my current physical state."
Haidar took a slight breath, politely declining Fran's offer.
After the previous "treatment," her physical strength and endurance had undergone a qualitative leap. Fatigue seemed to have completely vanished, and even her healing speed had become astonishingly fast… almost like a humanoid aberration.
She still needed some time to adapt to the changes in her body.
"Mmm… the patient's readiness for surgery is also within my considerations. Please proceed at your own pace and don't force yourself. You can contact me when you're ready to complete the follow-up treatments."
Fran didn't mind the rejection, as it was entirely expected. After all, women tend to be more reserved about such matters.
She gave Haidar a charming wink before heading toward the nearby washroom.
The door opened, revealing a space filled with wispy, hazy mist.
Vivian and Haidar watched as she disappeared into the mist behind the door, both silently refraining from speaking for a moment.
Finally, Vivian broke the silence: "Sister Haidar, let's go downstairs and prepare for the cleanup. There are too many witnesses this time; the aftermath alone will probably take three or four days…"
"Mm." Haidar was the first to descend the stairs to the second floor, ready to handle the handover of the cleanup work.
The White Chalice Order specializes in consciousness research, so they can take charge of the witnesses' psychological issues. Whether it's erasing memories or adding a cognitive filter… it's to prevent today's spectators from being left with severe trauma.
This will be a massive undertaking, but fortunately, the White Chalice Order is handling it.
Vivian felt relieved about this.
——
Fran removed the nun's robe of the Burial Attendant and placed it in the laundry basket for dirty clothes. Then, she changed into her loose physician's coat.
While wearing different clothes now and then could be fun, this one was ultimately the most familiar and comfortable.
The interior of the Burial Attendant's robe was reinforced with hardened leather plates, designed with multiple magazine pouches inside, and even had an automatic drug injection system for combat… Strictly speaking, it was a piece of "armor" meant for battle.
Since the standard equipment of the Secret Hunters rarely leaks out, it was also a rather fine collectible for Fran.
"Though I had my suspicions, I didn't expect Ahen to actually come… I thought only that dancer would show up."
Fran's brows lowered slightly, a hint of regret in her expression.
She had originally wanted to test the abyssal relic "Reaching for the Moon" and, incidentally, collect Sainth… She actually quite liked that dancer. But now that Ahen had begun the hunt, it wasn't appropriate for her to interfere further.
This paranoid maniac would never leave any survivors, and those whose heads are cut off by the "Decapitating Throne" also lose any chance of resurrection.
Although it's not entirely incurable for Fran, it would still come at a certain cost… It's clearly not worth it for something as trivial as a collectible.
"However, before Sainth died, she said, 'The ritual is complete, awaiting the hidden moon.' She's probably planning to stir up something again in June. But by then, my second cross-border consultation for the year should be approaching…"
Fran let out a slight sigh as a faint sense of hunger crept up. She suddenly remembered that she hadn't eaten anything today except for a slice of pineapple pizza.
"System, can you order me some takeout?"
[I'm sorry, dear Dr. Fran, this feature is currently unavailable.]