What has been, will be again; what has been done, will be done again.

Trier, Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman.

Leon—scholarly in appearance—stood at the front of the living room. His expression was solemn as he preached to the members of the congregation.

He had moved out of Auberge du Coq Doré because the congregation had grown significantly.

Although the local authorities in Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman seemed indifferent to his clandestine spreading of an unorthodox faith, Leon believed caution was paramount—better to avoid any undue attention.

If devout and fanatical believers of the Eternal Blazing Sun or the God of Steam and Machinery within the quartier discovered his heretical teachings, they would report and protest relentlessly at the cathedral. Even if the two major Churches were initially reluctant to act, they'd eventually be forced to intervene!

Moreover, with an increasing number of followers, Leon genuinely needed a temporary location to serve as an underground chapel.

Having finished his sermon, Leon raised his hands, palms outward, his voice suddenly becoming fervent, 'Praise be to you, Beholden to the King of Yellow and Black, Priest of the Apocalypse and War, the Multi-Faced Conqueror of All, the true Malady God!

'Praise be to you, the Ancient One who transcends time, One who remains forever young, Envoy of Disease and Plague, Lady who spreads pain and despair, Protector of humanity's adventurous spirit, companion to the great Malady God!'

The gathered believers in the living room mimicked his gestures and completed the ritual with a final hymn of praise.

As Leon listened to the echoing voices of the congregation, he felt a moment of daze.

He didn't quite understand why the titles of these two deities kept changing, especially the great God of Plague, whose honorific name had been revised multiple times, leaving little resemblance to the original descriptions. Furthermore, the title Malady God had been reinstated, while God of Disease was now regarded as His companion and queen.

Leon had once inquired about this matter with Her Holiness, the Pope. The reply was: 'This reflects the rise in the rank and authority of the God of Plague.'

After the hymns, Leon gestured for the assisting padres to distribute holy communion.

The communion consisted of a drink and a choice of food: one could choose from absinthe, red wine, or cooled boiled water, paired with either mashed potatoes or meat patties.

Seeing his followers savor the communion with genuine satisfaction, Leon felt his year-long efforts had been worthwhile. A profound sense of accomplishment welled within him.

In the afternoon, he left his residence and headed to Église Saint-Robert on Avenue du Marché.

This wasn't because he secretly maintained his faith in the Eternal Blazing Sun but rather because he believed the rapid growth of the Sick Church necessitated greater organization. He and the other bishops needed to prepare for eventualities by advising Her Holiness on perfecting aspects of daily worship, large-scale masses, and the Church's scriptures.

On such matters, the orthodox Churches of the true gods served as excellent references.

Avenue du Marché was as lively as ever. Waves of newcomers streamed in from the nearby steam train station, flowing like rivers into the sea that was Trier. Some opted for carriages, others carried suitcases and walked, while the less cautious had their wallets stolen, leaving them shouting and chasing in distress. The patrolling police offered help with little enthusiasm.

Leon entered Église Saint-Robert and noticed a relatively unfamiliar bishop standing before the altar.

Approaching, he asked curiously, 'Is Bishop Christopher not here today?'

The unfamiliar young bishop gave a complex smile and replied, 'Bishop Christopher has been reassigned. I will be taking over his duties.

'You may call me Yveline.'

Another new bishop… Leon couldn't help frowning slightly.

In his hometown, aside from rapidly promoted padres and bishops, most would remain in one place for years—some even decades—overseeing a single village cathedral. Yet Église Saint-Robert had seen five bishops in just the past year.

Now, this was the sixth!

It wasn't like this last year…

When I first arrived in Trier, the bishop back then stayed for more than half a year…

Leon's thoughts shifted to the numerous changes within the Eternal Blazing Sun Church over the past year.

The Eternal Blazing Sun, whose titles had never changed before, had begun issuing revelations, drastically altering its titles—similar to the God of Plague. Even the status of the Sun Sacred Emblem had shifted, no longer placed atop altars, downgraded to just one among many sacred symbols!

Leon cast his gaze toward the altar and saw a massive cross standing there.

After exchanging a few pleasantries with Bishop Yveline, he seated himself in the front row, pretending to pray.

Before long, his heightened spiritual sensitivity as a Warlock stirred within him. Suddenly opening his eyes, he turned to the side.

He saw Lugano, his direct superior, once again.

This archbishop of Trier's Sick Church—a Sequence 5 Druid—had unexpectedly appeared in Église Saint-Robert of the Eternal Blazing Sun Church!

With his thick brows and sharp eyes, Lugano showed no fear or surprise upon noticing Leon. Removing his half-tall silk hat, he sat beside his subordinate, gazing at the massive cross on the altar. In a low voice, he asked, 'What are you doing at the Eternal Blazing Sun Church?'

'Your Grace, I wanted to learn how to deliver better sermons,' Leon humbly explained.

He refrained from asking why Lugano was at Église Saint-Robert.

Lugano smiled and replied, 'Me too.'

Then, with a sigh, he added, 'And to feel the sunlight.'

'Feel the sunlight?' Leon asked, puzzled.

Lugano stared at the massive cross on the altar and said, 'I always feel like the sunlight outside isn't bright enough, isn't warm enough. It can't dispel the cold and fear inside me. Only the sunlight here reaches my soul and lets me forget my unease.'

'Unease?' Leon also felt a sense of unease.

What unsettled him most was that the archbishop's words bordered on blasphemy—they lacked piety.

What cold and fear could the great Malady God and the great Malady God Queen not resolve or eradicate? Why not pray to them or seek guidance from Her Holiness instead of coming to the Eternal Blazing Sun Church to feel the sunlight?

Will I be silenced for hearing such blasphemous words? As Leon's anxiety grew, Lugano shifted his gaze from the altar to observe Bishop Yveline, who had moved to a long table at the side of the church. Speaking in a suppressed tone, he said, 'I've been having nightmares for a long time. Haven't you?'

'No,' Leon replied firmly.

'Do you often feel uneasy?' Lugano pressed further.

Leon shook his head at first but then hesitantly added, 'As a Warlock, my spirituality is strong. I only feel unease as a premonition of trouble, which usually helps me avoid or resolve it. Any unease disappears afterward.'

Lugano sighed again and said, 'I've had nightmares for so long—every single night, waking up in terror.'

'Have you asked Her Holiness about the root of the problem?' Leon probed cautiously.

Lugano smiled faintly and said, 'I have. I've also prayed to the great Malady God and the great Malady God Queen. The response I received was: 'Pay no mind to it, but do not get too close.''

Pay no mind, that I understand. But what does do not get too close mean? Does delving into the nightmare lead to self-destruction, being dragged into the abyss? Leon instinctively analyzed the meaning of these words.

Suddenly, he recalled another matter: a mystical circle he had joined recently encountered problems, seemingly caused by a Beyonder from the Planter pathway.

In another related mystical circle, the host and many members warned everyone to beware of Beyonders from the Planter and Apothecary pathways.

His Grace is a Sequence 5 Druid of the Planter pathway… Could his recurring nightmares be related to abnormalities in these two pathways? Leon dared not voice his thoughts.

Lugano continued, 'Her Holiness also told me that, at my lowest, I could sit in a cathedral of the Eternal Blazing Sun.'

'I see…' Leon expressed his understanding.

Deep inside, however, he resolved to report this matter to Her Holiness through the mirror. He couldn't simply take the Archbishop's words at face value.

Lugano remained at Église Saint-Robert until evening before leaving to tend to the various affairs of Trier's Sick Church.

Late at night, he finally returned to his rented apartment. After drinking a glass of milk, stretching his body, and completing his nightly prayers, Lugano prepared for bed.

After washing up, he lay on his bed and turned off the gas wall lamp.

He stared at the ceiling, immersed in darkness, and at the crimson moonlight seeping through the curtains. He observed the twisted patterns formed by the interplay of light and shadow, unwilling to close his eyes for a long time.

He was afraid to sleep, afraid to dream.

He had once tried altering his routine—working at night and resting during the day—but the nightmare still came.

He didn't know how much time passed before he finally fell asleep.

In a daze, Lugano suddenly jolted awake, as if becoming lucid.

He saw the familiar gray-white fog and the water-stained stone slab.

It's here again… Lugano was not surprised.

The nightmare had come as anticipated.

He staggered to the edge of the gray-white fog but dared not step beyond it. He lingered there, gazing outward into the depths of the dream.

In the distance, he faintly saw a familiar street.

It was where he currently lived.

But in the dream, the street and all the buildings had completely collapsed—none were spared. The same destruction extended into the distance, with no end in sight.

Under the crimson moonlight, the ruins appeared chaotic, desolate, cold, and deathly still. Yet, they exuded a peculiar, eerie beauty—abandoned for ages yet imbued with a unique spiritual essence.

Green plants had overtaken the destroyed buildings. Some grew so densely they seemed to shroud the dead structures in burial cloth. Others bore abundant, fresh fruit.

Gazing upon this scene, Lugano was gripped by visceral fear, his entire body cold. It was as if he had glimpsed the future of Trier, the fate awaiting himself and others.

This was the nightmare he experienced every night:

A lifeless Trier where all humanity had been buried and every building had crumbled.

A Trier bathed perpetually in crimson moonlight.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Aunomay Read