Chapter 281: Matalita
At this pace, in just over ten minutes it would be his turn to go inside…
Zhou Ning quickly glanced around, unable to imagine how, despite there being so many people, they had all managed to stay completely silent for hours on end.
In that absolute silence, time passed excruciatingly slowly. A chill ran through him—this wasn't like a game. In a game, if you died, you just died. But here, he was gambling with his life!
Still, his specialization in extreme calmness made him grow only steadier the greater the danger became. The only exit for him to return to the real world lay in a mirror somewhere inside the church. Escape had no meaning now; the only choice was to face it directly. With his disguise intact, he could only march straight in, openly and confidently.
If things truly went south, he still had the One Piece Pirate King Possession Card as his trump card.
Exhaling, Zhou Ning simply closed his eyes to rest.
When his silent count reached 2700, a sudden chill ran down his spine. At almost that exact moment, the cathedral's great doors creaked open once more. The elderly elf stepped out again, his voice deep as he intoned:
"jo-ra-lato-kol-di-ya-ru."
This time, the word joa had been replaced with lato—clearly summoning the three-leaf elves inside. And without question, the twenty-some four-leaf elves who had entered earlier had not come back out; it was as though the cathedral had swallowed them whole.
As soon as the words fell, the six three-leaf elves ahead of Zhou Ning began to move. He had no choice but to follow, stepping into the cathedral's doorway.
Behind them, the door shut with a heavy bang, cutting off the faint light from outside.
[System: You have discovered the Night Cathedral. Experience +20,000.]
Night Cathedral? Fitting name, that.
Because elves revered the night, not a sliver of light filled the church interior. Without his night vision device, Zhou Ning's eyes couldn't see a thing. Even his Observation Haki seemed to be suppressed, rendered useless in this darkness. He stumbled, bumping into the heel of the three-leaf elf ahead of him.
Clack!
The sudden noise rang unbearably loud in the silent church. At once, he felt countless eyes sweep toward him, probing for the anomaly.
Zhou Ning froze. Only after a moment, when those gazes faded, did he dare to let out a breath.
Two seconds later, his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. The first thing he did was scan for the mirror.
The cathedral was larger than he'd expected. Several high-ranking black wraiths drifted to and fro inside, but the elves and wraiths seemed to coexist peacefully, ignoring one another—even when they brushed against each other.
The building's architecture surged upward in a style evoking ascension toward the heavens. From the central right-side entrance, a stairway led to the second floor. At the far end stood a pitch-black altar, its front carved with a relief of a human face, flanked by floral patterns. Atop the altar rose a statue of the Elven Goddess.
The mirror he sought hung somewhere on the second floor. Zhou Ning could sense its presence—but reaching it would be anything but easy.
"A relief of a human face?"
In the field of mysticism, every deity—and even every sect—had its own sigil, nearly always unique. Such emblems could often be drawn as runes to channel divine power or sustain faith, though doing so risked attracting the gaze of certain eldritch gods.
Zhou Ning suddenly remembered where he'd seen that very same sigil before—from that unlucky fellow Joshua Lambert, whose family motto was pride. He recalled it being tied to… the Contemplative Order.
A sect devoted to impart, their creed was indulgence and pleasure—believing only by surrendering to desire and reveling in joy could one's soul be freed. Zhou Ning even recalled that Fatty's mother, along with Harrison Rivers' wife, were both members.
Why would a Contemplative Order church appear here? What did the Order have to do with the ancient elves? Zhou Ning's mind spun with questions.
The only relief was that the five five-leaf elves and the twenty-some four-leaf elves who'd entered weren't dead. Instead, they knelt in two rows like devout worshippers, praying with utmost fervor.
Following the elves ahead, Zhou Ning finally caught a clear look at the statue in the dark.
It resembled the goddess statue outside—beautiful face, tall and graceful figure—but the black lines extending from her body were far more prominent, resembling tentacles… or insect legs.
Her feet still stood upon whirling breezes.
Then, as they advanced further, at the very limit of his vision, Zhou Ning spotted an enormous spider-like phantom crouched atop the goddess's head, as though feeding on something.
Zhou Ning: ???
The moment he saw it, searing pain lanced through his eyes, his body trembling uncontrollably. A powerful urge welled up inside him to bow, to kneel in worship. But mindful that his SmartBrain might be recording, unwilling to disgrace himself, he forced the impulse down.
That overwhelming pressure was his very rank being crushed. That was divine aura—unbearable to gaze upon, impossible to resist.
Had he not just upgraded his rank, he would have collapsed on the spot, enslaved into the shadows.
"This is… the Dark Spider Mother, Matalita? Impossible!" came Molly's incredulous voice in his mind.
"What?"
Zhou Ning's thoughts exploded in panic, his instincts screaming to flee.
He vividly recalled: upon first crossing into this world, he had slain a low-tier spider demon named Siren Marien. And if Molly was right, then the spider phantom before him was none other than the ancient god ruling such demons—the Dark Spider Mother, Matalita.
He had read of this in Apocalypse's lore.
Never had he imagined he would actually encounter it here. He was just an ordinary high-ranked class holder!
"Don't worry. That should only be a projection—pure instinct, without the deity's full consciousness. If it were truly the god itself, merely being gazed upon would already have shattered your sanity. Even a weaker ancient god like the Dark Spider Mother Matalita cannot be directly looked upon by a high-ranked mortal. Stay quiet. I'll do what I can to help you find a chance to escape," Molly whispered softly.
At that moment, the elderly elf stopped before the black altar, turned, and spoke several words to the three-leaf elf behind Zhou Ning. That elf immediately knelt devoutly, removing the hood and veil covering head and face.
Zhou Ning nearly gasped aloud.
The elf's face was entirely formed of black shadows. He was, in fact, a black wraith! No wonder the residents here moved so stiffly. No wonder the wraiths did not attack them.
Even more horrifying, faint clusters of compound eyes dotted the shadows of his face—dim, but unmistakable.
The elder elf then took a vessel from the altar, poured a cup of water, and handed it to the kneeling elf.
The instant Zhou Ning saw it, a chill like icy wind through his marrow ran through him. Inside the cup swarmed countless phantom insect eggs. He could barely stomach aphid juice—let alone that. He'd sooner die than drink it.
After drinking, however, the shadowed visage on the elf's face solidified further, as though the liquid greatly benefited him. He then rose, crossed to the right-hand row, and joined the others in fervent prayer.
What should he do? Zhou Ning suddenly found himself in a desperate dilemma.