Chapter 3

A blood moon hung high in the sky, and a massive altar rose in the heart of the continent of Eldridge.

Layer upon layer of dark red stone steps rose straight into the sky. Tens of thousands of demon worshippers gathered around the altar, chanting the bride's name with fervor, waiting to witness this grand, dark wedding.

"Bang!"

The dilapidated wooden door was kicked open violently once again, and more than a dozen Divine Guards soldiers dressed in black armor rushed in.

I'm reviewing the latest medical report—my daughter's hematopoietic stem cell transplant is in its final stage, and all her indicators are stabilizing. My wife is also completely out of danger.

"Kyle! By order of the High Priest, you are to be taken to the altar!"

The captain of the leading guard force roughly grabbed my arm, and cold shackles bound my hands. I did not resist, letting them drag me out of the stone house.

The streets were packed with demons and believers who were watching the spectacle. They pointed and whispered, their eyes filled with schadenfreude.

"Look, that fake offering!"

"The High Priest is finally going to clean house!"

"He's dead!"

I was dragged through the crowd to the bottom of the crimson altar. Looking up, Morgana stood on the highest platform, dressed in a blood-red wedding gown, beautiful yet cruel. Baal stood beside her, his right hand wrapped in bandages, a smug smile on his face.

"Hahaha!" Baal burst into laughter. "Look at this pathetic wretch! He dared to challenge me yesterday, and today he's kneeling at the altar to be tortured!"

Damian skipped and hopped up to me, a malicious grin on his face: "Fake Dad, today is the day you suffer!"

The guards shoved me down the steps of the altar, roughly pressed down on my shoulders, and forced me to kneel.

"Kyle!" Morgana's voice echoed throughout the altar, "You trampled on my grace, you defied my authority! Today, I will make you pay the price for your folly, witnessed by the entire continent!"

Tens of thousands of believers roared so loudly it seemed they were about to tear the sky apart.

"Morgana, you've been too lenient with him," Baal's voice was full of sarcasm. "This ungrateful wretch deserves to taste what true despair is!"

Morgana slowly walked down the stone steps, her blood-red wedding dress trailing behind her like a river of blood.

"To teach you what awe truly means," she said, stepping up to me and gathering dark magic in her hands, "I will leave an indelible mark on you."

Two jet-black bone spurs took shape in her palm, their tips gleaming with a deathly cold light.

"Sizzle—"

Bone spurs pierced through both of my collarbones.

A piercing pain instantly struck, as if countless steel needles were churning inside my bone marrow. I clenched my teeth tightly, my nails digging into my palms, and blood instantly stained my tattered clothes.

The entire audience erupted in wild cheers.

But I didn't make a sound. Not even a muffled groan.

"Great!" Baal clapped excitedly. "Morgana, look at him gritting his teeth! That's right! Let him know who's in charge here!"

I endured the excruciating pain, even managing a slight upturn of my lips, and looked into Morgana's eyes with a deathly gaze.

Morgana's smile froze. She had expected screams, pleas, and agonizing contortions—but I gave her nothing, I even mocked her!

"Isn't that enough?" she gritted her teeth. "Then add some more!"

She waved her hand, and several guards brought over a red-hot branding iron.

"Kick him! Make him feel the pain!" Damian rushed over excitedly and kicked me in the chest, then kicked me again and again.

Each impact caused the bone spurs to churn within the wound, sending waves of excruciating pain crashing over me. My vision began to blur, and cold sweat soaked my back, but I maintained my indifferent expression throughout.

"Ha! Let's see how long he can keep up this act!" Bali shouted from the stage. "A mere mortal without a system, trying to put on airs in front of us?"

But as time went on, his laughter gradually became strained.

"What...what are you thinking?" Damian suddenly stopped moving, his voice tinged with reluctance.

In his eyes, I was clearly enduring pain that ordinary people could not bear, but his gaze remained as cold as an abyss, as if it was someone else, not me, who was being tortured.

The previously mocking believers gradually quieted down, intimidated by my inhumanly cold gaze. The frenzied atmosphere cooled down eerily.

Baal's expression also began to change, from smugness to confusion, and then to an inexplicable unease.

At this moment, fragments began to flash through Morgana's mind—the rainy night three years ago when he draped a cloak over her; when she was sick, he stayed up all night taking care of her; every time a magic experiment failed, he would silently clean up the mess...

Were those looks, that tenderness, all fake?

She even found a pang of heartache rising in her heart.

She actually felt sorry for this mortal who had deceived her for so many years?

Bali noticed the subtle change in Morgana's expression, a hint of jealousy flashing in his eyes. He had thought he was Morgana's true love, but now it seemed she cared more about him.

"Bolt your head!" Morgana roared, but her voice trembled slightly. "Bolt your head and admit you were wrong! Beg for my forgiveness!"

There was a hidden urgency in her voice—she wanted to see me give in, to see me change my mind, to hear me say I still loved her. But her pride wouldn't allow her to admit it.

I looked up and stared directly into her eyes.

Blood dripped from the corner of my mouth, but my voice remained calm: "And then?"

This question completely enraged Morgana.

"A soldering iron! Give me a soldering iron!" She completely lost her mind.

The Divine Guard pressed a red-hot branding iron onto my shoulder.

The stench of burning flesh filled the air, and the excruciating pain made my body tremble uncontrollably, but I still didn't make a sound. I clenched my teeth, letting the blood flow from the corner of my mouth.

"Why...why isn't he begging for mercy?" Baal's voice grew increasingly agitated. A complex emotion flickered in his eyes—jealousy.

He was jealous that I could endure such pain without yielding, jealous that I could make Morgana lose her composure with that look in my eyes, jealous that I possessed something he could never understand.

As Morgana looked at my face, which was filled with pain yet remained stubborn, the inner conflict within her grew stronger.

"Please!" her voice was almost pleading, on the verge of tears, "Please beg me, and I'll...I'll..."

She couldn't continue. Deep in her memory, those tender moments she had labeled as "illusions" began to resurface, and she began to question her own judgment.

Damian began to tremble slightly, a complex light flickering in his eyes. For the first time, the little one felt regret, regret for treating me this way. Clearly, I hadn't done anything wrong to them. I just… won them over.

An eerie silence fell over the entire altar.

Tens of thousands of believers held their breath, waiting for the farce to end.

"Enough!" Baal suddenly roared, drawing a dagger from his waist. "Since you're so eager to die, then I'll grant your wish!"

Jealousy, like a venomous snake, devoured his reason. He couldn't bear the wavering in Morgana's eyes, couldn't bear the thought that he still held any weight in her heart.

"Bali, no!" Morgana cried out in alarm.

But Baal was faster! The instant he spoke, the dagger pierced my heart: "Just a mortal! He's dead, so be it!"

The moment the blade pierced my chest, the Pantheon Main System's notification sounded in my mind: "Host's life detected as ended. Program activation initiated..."

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

Besides automatically returning after the 72-hour leave period, there's another way to quickly leave the world you've conquered: death. Mission complete, I'm guaranteed a safe return home.

But this body in the small world will inevitably die.

I felt the blood rapidly draining away, my vision blurring. Morgana and Damian's faces loomed close to mine, but I saw the faces of my wife and children in the real world. I reached out, trying to touch them.

The next instant, consciousness plunged into darkness.

"No!!!"