Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

Chapter 1930 Praise the Sun

The Antlered High Priestʼs expression turned wild and ferocious as he was drawn to the Brand of Evil.

Adam could see the werewolf torn between two choices: kill him in that moment or continue to torture him and later offer his blood to the sun god.

A hint of panic flickered in his tenebrous eyes.

From what heʼd understood experimenting with the Brand of Evil, creatures weaker than him would feel an instinctive urge to kill him. Creatures at the same level as him retained a measure of self-control, but they still strongly preferred to act on that murderous instinct.

As for creatures stronger than him, he theorized that they would have far greater control over their urges. Adam had never been able to test that theory because he had never encountered a stronger being who was affected by the Brand.

Until now.

Seeing that the werewolf could snap at any moment and give in to his bestial instincts, Adam acted immediately. He couldnʼt let days of planning and unbearable torture go to waste.

More importantly, he had no intention of dying.

With a pious look on his face, Adam raised his head and glanced at the ceiling. Then, in a trembling voice, he said:

”Ah! The sun! I can see it… I can see it!”

The Antlered High Priest trembled. ”What!”

Adam continued, tears streaming down his haggard face.

”This is a trial! A trial... bestowed upon... us... by the... by the great sun god!”

”…Trial?” the werewolf murmured, his glassy eyes suddenly shining with focus.

”You must not yield... to your beastly urges! You must endure! You must overcome!”

”Must endure… Must overcome,” the werewolf repeated those words, subconsciously taking a few steps back.

”My blood! My flesh! My soul!” Adam screamed in ecstasy. ”I offer them all... to you, o great sun god!”

”The… great… sun god!” The werewolf clasped his hands together in prayer.

Adam grimaced in agonizing pain, yet still continued:

”Grant your child the strength... to conquer the beast within! So that this sacrifice... may be worthy of your divine light! Praise the sun!”

The werewolf echoed religiously.

”Praise… the… sun!”

Right at that moment, the hymn of the stone angels came to an abrupt halt.

Shortly after, the sounds of glass shattering and crumbling stone thundered from above. Moments after that came the clash of battle, accompanied by the deranged howls and shrieks of the monsters.

The Antlered High Priest snapped his head toward the door, his eyes blazing with anger and fervor.

”Who… dare… desecrate… the… house… of… god?!”

Without wasting another moment, his figure turned into a blur, and he burst through the door and charged up the stairs. He had to deal with the invaders first before he could offer the greatest sacrifice to his god.

Having succeeded in driving the mad high priest away, Adam breathed a sigh of relief.

However, his plan was far from accomplished. He weakly glanced at the iron spikes piercing his arms, shoulders, and ankles. His gaze involuntarily fell on the entrails slipping from his stomach and coiling inside the bowl beneath him.

His lips curled into a smile.

How he had managed to stay alive despite his insides on the outsides, and how he had endured such unimaginable pain, only he knew.

But now was not the time to wallow in misery.

While the werewolf and the stone angels fought off the monsters drawn to the Brand of Evil, Adam had to make his escape quickly.

Pain be damned!

With a violent jerk, he tore his hands free from the wall. Then he reached for the iron spikes embedded in his shoulders and ripped them out one by one. His face twisted into a mask of soundless agony and feral madness.

Yet he endured.

With the shoulder spikes gone, his body could no longer support itself. He pitched forward, crashing face-first onto the floor. The spikes still pinning his ankles forced his legs into an unnatural angle, sending fresh waves of pain through shattered bones.

Worse still, the sudden fall caused even more of his entrails to spill from the gaping wound in his abdomen.

Adam lost consciousness for nearly five whole seconds before the pain jerked him awake.

Bloodshot eyes snapped wide open, and he spat through gritted teeth. ”Not… yet! How can I…give up… now? Donʼt fuck with me!!”

A growl of rage, madness, and pain escaped his lips as he pushed himself to the ground.

First, he picked up the blood-stained handwraps from the floor. Then, without hesitation, he gathered his entrails from the bowl and hastily shoved them back into the gaping wound in his stomach.

Grimacing through unbearable pain, he wrapped the bloodstained cloth tightly around his abdomen to keep his insides from spilling out again. He then unwound the handwrap from his left hand and secured it over the first layer, binding his stomach as tightly as he could.

Only then did he shift his weight and violently wrench his ankles free from the wall.

Adam spread his senses upward and learned that the werewolf and the stone angels were brutally slaughtering all kinds of monsters who had set foot into the temple, drawn to the Brand.

His lips curled into a mocking grin.

Then he struggled to his feet, only to collapse almost immediately. He tried several more times, but each attempt ended the same way. The tendons in his legs had been mutilated too badly to support his weight.

A ferocious look spread across his face as he crawled toward the table where the high priest had kept the instruments of torture. With a sweep of his hand, he overturned the table, sending the bloodstained tools clattering across the floor.

His eyes darted from one tool to another before finally settling on a broad, heavy knife.

Adam crawled toward it and picked it up with his left hand. Then he got onto his knees, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes again, they gleamed with cold indifference.

Without a word, he raised the blade and hacked into his right forearm.

Hot blood splattered across his face.

He raised the blade again and struck the same spot.

Several more blows later, his right hand was finally severed.

Blood gushed out from the stump in his right hand. Adam gritted his teeth and let the pain wash over him. He did not scream. He did not grunt. He silently endured the agony.

With his remaining hand, he picked up his severed right hand, the one bearing the Brand of Evil.

His lips parted, and he whispered hoarsely:

”Valerian.”