"To the Great Lord of Kuyō!"
As Azmodan climbed the steps of the altar, he chanted under his breath, voicing the deepest reverence and devotion within his heart.
"To the Great Lord of Kuyō! To the Great Lord of Kuyō..."
As he repeated the invocation over and over, his voice rippled through the air, echoing across the heavens and earth.
"To the Great Lord of Kuyō! To the Great Lord of Kuyō..."
"To the immortal god who devours the world, to the ancient god in whom all things are united!"
Countless believers below the altar answered in unison.
They knelt in orderly rows, touching their foreheads lightly to the ground in devout worship.
Their voices rose and fell, merging into a tremendous wave of sound.
The fervent reverence in their voices was unmistakable.
When he reached the highest point of the altar, Azmodan stopped and took a deep breath before silently reciting with utmost devotion:
"[To the Great Devourer of the Nine Worlds!]"
The team had only made one honorific title for this God known to the public, "Lord of Kuyō."
Only Azmodan, the one who had received divine redemption, knew the deity's true name.
And only someone as special as him was qualified to utter the Lord of Kuyō's true name.
Ordinary believers were permitted to address the deity by only one title, the Lord of Kuyō.
"Mmm! Mmm-mmm! Mmm-woo-woo-woo!!"
On the altar, the human woman suspended by magical thorn ropes struggled violently.
Her mouth had been sewn shut, however, so she could only make muffled whimpers as she watched Azmodan approach in terror.
[To the Great Devourer of the Nine Worlds!]
"Mmm-woo-aaah—!?"
Without the slightest hesitation, the sharp dagger plunged into the woman's abdomen with a wet stab and sliced downward through her belly. Then both hands reached into the wound...
Rip!
Her chest was forcibly torn open on both sides.
"Gah-waaah—aaaahhh, it hurts—!!"
The woman lost consciousness for an instant, but being a Magic Caster kept her from dying immediately.
Her agonized cries tore apart some of the threads sewing her lips together, allowing garbled pleas of despair to escape.
In stark contrast, the believers' cheers only grew louder.
Azmodan remained expressionless.
Without emotion, he lowered his head into the woman's torn-open chest. Heat and the metallic stench of blood rushed into his nostrils. He parted his jaws, bit down, and yanked hard.
Hot blood sprayed everywhere.
A vivid red heart, still beating faintly, was suddenly exposed to the air.
Before the eyes of everyone present, Azmodan became like a savage beast feeding on raw flesh and blood, brutally gnawing at the heart and swallowing it.
Nine assistant priests came up from both sides of the altar. Muttering prayers under their breath, they walked around the altar like planets revolving in orbit.
The faithful below also began devoutly reciting their prayers.
The entire spectacle was almost beyond comprehension.
After finishing the heart, Azmodan immediately pulled out the woman's other organs and ate them as well. By then, she was already barely alive, twitching like a fish out of water.
This was feeding in its most primitive form. It was a performance offered to the Devourer of Worlds.
The believers hoped to attract the deity's gaze through this ritual.
Drinking hot blood, gnawing on fresh flesh, sucking on tendons and bones, devouring Souls. The endless screams were the most beautiful of hymns.
An hour later, the woman had disappeared completely.
Azmodan was drenched in blood from head to toe, resembling a demon that had crawled out of Purgatory.
Crimson magical runes connected with the offered dismembered limb, and a deep purple light began to flicker.
Azmodan raised both arms toward the sky like a bird preparing to take flight.
"Oh—Great—God—Awaken—my heart—let my Soul ascend!"
Special ritual magic activated.
The Talent [Devout Believer] activated as the God envisioned within his heart resonated with the severed limb.
His body remained unchanged, but his spirit and will crossed through time and space, reaching out toward the God he worshipped.
"I see it. I see it... No, that's wrong. I'm not... Ah!!!!"
At first, his body muttered aloud, recounting what he was seeing and hearing. Then a sudden scream cut everything short.
"I am Azmodan... I'm not a follower of Kuyō... I'm a follower of the Six Great Gods..."
"No... this isn't me...!"
Agonizing pain.
His Soul twisted. The false faith was torn apart, and his old memories came flooding back as blood burst from all over his body.
I remember now. I remember everything!
Haha... so that's what happened. Is that how it was...?
O immortal Gods, mighty Six Great Gods, have I failed...?
In the end, I still failed to live up to your expectations...
As he muttered weakly to himself, the severed limb erupted with purple light, and in an instant, the surrounding area was filled with countless black void bubbles.
The Miasma in the air began to merge with the void bubbles.
One after another, dark, translucent black Elves materialized, like ghosts emerging from the night.
There were too many Elves to count.
Each softly chanted the same mysterious binary prayer, as though they were the most devout Apostles carrying out some indescribable mission.
In an instant, every believer froze.
Their flesh and blood began to wither, the flames of their Souls went out, and one after another, they crumbled into ash and vanished into the air.
Azmodan watched it happen.
Because he was linked to the severed limb, he did not die immediately, but he had little time left.
Purple patterns had already spread across his entire body. Not only through his flesh, but through his very Soul.
This was the price of transgression. This was the punishment for blasphemy.
"God... is this how I end...?"
He was unwilling.
So terribly unwilling.
He had failed to complete his mission. He had failed to answer the expectations of the God he worshipped.
He had disappointed God...
Just as the black specters were about to engulf him, a beam of light pierced the darkness and fell across his face.
Golden radiance illuminated the surroundings like broad daylight, while a torrent of faith washed away every impurity.
The Miasma, the specters, everything vanished like an illusion.
As his consciousness began to fade, the figure of a skeleton appeared before him.
"God... have I... disappointed you...?"
Fighting against the drowsiness overtaking him, Azmodan dropped to his knees. His broken words echoed through the air.
"No... you did very well. You've worked hard. Now, please rest."
The calm voice soothed his exhausted Soul.
"Is that so...? That's good. That's good."
A relieved smile appeared on his crack-covered face as his consciousness finally faded away.
Surshana silently caught the collapsing Azmodan and let out a long sigh.