Just as the believers finished their prayers and were about to rise and disperse, a small, pale-white energy sphere, the size of a ping-pong ball, rolled silently into the center of the chamber. As it flickered with white light, the sphere slowly faded into nothingness. The room remained eerily quiet, as if nothing had happened… yet those with keener senses could immediately detect a strange, unfamiliar energy enveloping the entire area.
At that moment, with a muffled explosion, a gray-robed figure shot across the chamber, soaring above the believers' heads. Moving at an astonishing speed, the figure landed firmly before the innermost iron gate, its towering form completely blocking the passage—an entrance originally meant for only a single person to pass through at a time.
In the face of such an abrupt and overwhelming intrusion, most people would be paralyzed by fear. After all, the mysterious energy burst in the chamber clearly bore the aura of an official-level spell. Any professional with a shred of knowledge would immediately understand: the enemy they now faced was beyond what a mere gathering of apprentice-level fodder could possibly resist.
Anticipating the possibility that some of the more quick-witted believers might attempt to flee, Punk wasted no time launching his next spell. While Golem One secured the iron gate, Punk swiftly cast a spell to seal off all escape routes.
Apprentice-level Plastic Energy Spell — Earth and Stone Fence:
Constructs a circular rock barrier to entrap enemies within.
Though Punk desired to keep some of them alive for interrogation, he lacked an official-level large-scale restraint spell. Instead, he resorted to this apprentice-level spell. However, backed by his vast official-level mana reserves, even a simple spell like this was far beyond what these half-human, half-spider monstrosities could break through. The crude barrier was more than sufficient to trap the unprepared believers.
Within less than a second, the spell was fully constructed. Now, even if any of them could react swiftly, they had no chance of escaping the Silent Field to warn others.
Yet, to Punk's surprise, the believers' reactions were utterly bizarre. Not only did they make no attempt to flee, but there was not even a hint of fear in their expressions. Instead, the initial dullness in their eyes was replaced by an uncontrollable, fervent euphoria—like beggars suddenly laying eyes on mountains of gold.
"Hahaha! The enemy foretold by Lord High Priest has arrived! It is time to offer everything we have to the great Queen Tishahar!"
"In the eyes of Goddess Tishahar, nothing can be concealed!"
"The time has come! The prophesied moment has finally arrived!"
"Redemption! At last, I shall embrace redemption! I offer everything—my life, my soul…"
Not one of them tried to resist or retreat. Instead, they fervently chanted praises to their so-called One True Goddess — Tishahar, some even bursting into tears of excitement.
Then, an eerie transformation began.
Suddenly, the souls of the believers fluctuated violently. Blood spurted from their mouths and nostrils, their crudely "stitched" spider-like bodies convulsing uncontrollably. The violent thrashing tore open the sutures that bound their humanoid torsos to their arachnid lower halves, causing deep, gaping wounds to rupture across their flesh.
Yet, rather than reacting to their injuries, they seemed utterly indifferent to the pain. Some even collapsed to their knees, weeping in joy as they continued their prayers of gratitude to Goddess Tishahar.
Punk watched in silent disbelief as, in mere seconds, fifty believers shredded their own bodies to pieces. Their organs burst apart, and so much blood gushed forth that it pooled into flowing rivulets across the floor.
At that instant, a shiver of unease crept into Punk's mind.
The situation had veered beyond his predictions.
While these believers appeared to be nothing more than frenzied zealots engaging in suicidal self-mutilation, a deeper instinct warned him—something far more dangerous was unfolding within this chamber.
He had no intention of standing idly by while the ritual continued. He could see that these lunatics were sacrificing themselves in an attempt to unleash some kind of ultimate technique, and he immediately sought to disrupt their grotesque ritual. But just as he prepared to dispel his now-useless apprentice-level magic and counter their ceremony—
It was already too late.
Their transformation was complete.
The believers' bodies had disintegrated into a mass of severed limbs and shredded flesh. The lower halves of their spider forms melted into greenish sludge, merging with the flesh to form a grotesque, pulsating sphere at the center of the chamber. Meanwhile, their souls—shining with an ominous crimson radiance—spiraled rapidly around the twisted Spider Statue, forming a howling whirlwind of spiritual energy.
Chunks of flesh and bone were steadily drawn into this vortex, rapidly coalescing into a floating, blood-soaked sphere. The believers' disembodied souls—ecstatic and unrelenting—merged into the grotesque mass, their voices blending into a haunting, echoing chant.
When the last soul vanished into the bloody sphere, the pulsating mass abruptly sprouted jagged limbs and a cluster of grotesque arachnid heads. Eight of the most fanatical souls fused into the monster's eyes, their crazed expressions twisted in a grotesque, nightmarish rapture.
As the Abomination took form, its body became encased in a thick, dark-green exoskeleton of translucent pus, through which countless distorted faces could be seen writhing in agony and ecstasy alike.
The entire transformation took no more than five seconds.
Like a shapeshifting monstrosity, the grotesque fusion of flesh and soul completed its metamorphosis before Punk could even react. His hands still held the remnants of an unfinished spell, the opportunity to intervene already lost.
But something about this entire event felt wrong.
The actions of these believers were too synchronized. Their reactions were too immediate. Their willingness to sacrifice themselves was far too absolute.
Had they been expecting this moment all along?
Were these mad zealots truly mindless, or had they known of his arrival before he even stepped foot into the cave?
A deep sense of unease flickered within Punk's mind.
He did not attack immediately. Instead, he took a slow step back, his cold gaze fixed on the newly born Spider Abomination, his mind racing through every possible explanation.
His enhanced intellect, boosted by his system's analytical capabilities, ran at full throttle.
Three questions loomed above all else:
First — How had these believers been able to instantly and uniformly respond in the exact same way? It was almost as if their arachnid lower halves were pre-installed components, imbued with some kind of collective directive.
Second — Their willingness to sacrifice themselves could be explained by their fanaticism. Religious lunatics had always been willing to throw their lives away for their so-called gods. That much was not surprising.
But the third and most disturbing question…
Why had they anticipated this moment?
The way they reacted… the eagerness in their eyes…
Had they known he would come?
Had they prepared for this exact event in advance?
Punk's grip tightened.
Something was very, very wrong.