Temple

Bang.

Enduring the indescribable stench, Lynch slammed the cold, heavy gates of the temple shut.

The clamor outside vanished instantly, as if the interior and exterior had been severed into two separate worlds.

The collision he had imagined did not occur, but Lynch still kept his back pressed against the icy doors, waiting quietly for a moment.

It seems my judgment was wrong. As expected, there is nothing simple about the world of mystery. But where did I go wrong?

Scanning through the mystery lore he had learned, Lynch realized he had rushed to use the three elements of dreams while overlooking another rule.

The principle of dream instability.

Because the consciousness of sentient beings is characterized by volatility and association, the dreams of sentient beings inevitably exhibit unstable features. In practice, this means dreams undergo periodic or non-periodic changes that persist throughout the entire dream, regardless of its duration.

This is one of the necessary conditions for identifying a dream event. If the facts contradict the principle of dream instability, it means the current event is not a dream, or at least not entirely a dream of a sentient being.

Damn it, I got it wrong on my first attempt. Is this the sorrow of a poor student?

However, Lynch was not exactly disappointed. Being wrong was within the realm of reason, and he had previously analyzed another solution.

Replicating Maya's previous actions.

Maya had entered the depths of the temple and then woken up in a fright. Although according to the uncertainty principle of results, since the imitator cannot perfectly replicate every detail of the template, the current state would deviate from the template. This could lead to a chain reaction similar to the butterfly effect from his hometown, potentially resulting in a massive deviation in the final outcome. But that was only a possibility; there was still a sixty-five percent chance of reproducing the template's effect.

This probability was well worth a try.

Therefore, from the very beginning, Lynch had prepared two plans. The temple was his final retreat.

It was just that this retreat was hard to describe.

It was bone-chillingly cold and reeked of rot.

Eerie and terrifying whispers continued to drift from the depths of the temple, and green flames flickered and danced, casting countless twisted and hideous shadows all around.

This place was as detestable as a nightmare.

Neighbor, I won't be poisoned or frozen to death if I go in, will I?

【Usually, no.】

Don't be so precise next time. You're scaring me.

Lynch sighed and pulled his back away from the cold gate.

It seems the temple is a forbidden zone for the monsters. But that might not necessarily be good news. I feel like I've been given the same treatment as a horror movie protagonist.

With a self-deprecating smile, Lynch reloaded his pistol and, cane in hand, cautiously moved inside.

The temple corridor was empty, cold, and dry. The surrounding ice was covered in murals. Lynch mustered the courage to look at them; surprisingly, they were not bizarre, mysterious images, but normal murals recording the funeral rites of this city.

In this city, the bodies of all who died, whether visitors or residents, were sent to this temple. After being processed by the priests, they were placed on an altar in the depths of the temple to be devoured by a god sleeping within, becoming the god's sustenance. The residents here believed that offering corpses to the god would cleanse them of all sins committed during their lifetime. Therefore, stealing a corpse or preventing a resident's death was the greatest blasphemy and would be met with the priests' harshest punishment.

It seems this so-called god is Mordiggian. The cold of preservation, the disease that cannot be cured, and the ultimate death—these must be the origins of its three aspects of divine authority.

【Mm.】

Lynch nodded and moved forward along the deep corridor. The murals on both sides became increasingly eerie as he went deeper, detailing the entire process of the deceased from their entry to their consumption.

Just the first step, the processing of the corpses, made Lynch feel nauseous, and he eventually looked away.

The eerie whispering grew more elusive, now in front, now behind, becoming louder and louder, as if thousands upon thousands of people were repeatedly chanting the name of Mordiggian. It threw Lynch's mind into chaos; even covering his ears did nothing to stop the intrusion of the sound, as if the sound did not require the process of 'hearing' at all.

This is nothing less than a soul attack.

【Mm.】

It really is a soul attack?

Upon hearing this, Lynch dared not delay further and quickened his pace, trying his best to remain cautious.

The passage of the temple corridor sloped downward, surrounded by identical walls of ice, as if it led straight to the depths of the earth.

Lynch did not know how long he had been walking; it felt as if time had lost all meaning. Finally, the scenery around him began to change.

At the end of the passage appeared a spacious hall. In the center of the hall was a massive hole, over ten meters in diameter. The pit was unfathomably deep, as if it led straight to the depths of an endless hell. The stench of decay and death drifted from the hole, turning into billowing green smoke that penetrated the walls and drifted out of the temple.

Suspended directly above the large hole was a massive platform. It hung shakily in mid-air, held by several iron chains, and was connected to the outside by several drawbridges.

The entire platform was covered in dried blood, layered thick across its surface, turning it a ghastly purplish-black. In particular, an altar that looked like a bed in the center of the platform was a dark, crimson-tinged purple that made one feel repulsed just from looking at it from afar.

A person was lying on the altar at that moment. Although the distance made it hard to see her features clearly, her attire made it obvious that it was the reporter, Maya. Maya lay flat on the altar, unmoving, wearing the clothes she had changed into before sleep. There were no obvious wounds on her body, and she looked as if she were simply asleep.

Hiss, another Maya?

Lynch realized that this might be the core area of this space, dream or not. Do I need to wake her up here?

However, looking at the platform suspended over the pit, Lynch felt his legs go weak. It was bottomless and pitch-black below. If he fell in, it was hard to say where he would end up, but it would certainly be fatal. And this was...

Lynch looked closely into the pit, his heart tightening. Below was not a deep, dark, empty hole; it was a cavity filled with darkness.

The darkness was not true darkness; it pulsed and roiled like boiling water, spreading rapidly upward.

"I followed a long, dark shadow into the depths of the temple, and then I saw a massive..."

So her description wasn't abstract, it was a true, realistic account. Damn it, I understand now. After she came in, she didn't just wake up from a dream; she was corrupted and had started to transform into a ghoul.

I certainly hope I don't replicate that part too.

Run, no, I have to wake her up first, or at least carry her out. But how can I wake her?

Lynch's mind was in a turmoil. Seeing the speed at which the darkness was rising, he steeled himself, intending to charge onto the swaying platform and at least bring the reporter down first.

【Read.】

Hmm? Lynch froze. This isn't a memory of a mystery relic, can I read it too?

But he couldn't afford to overthink it. Lynch subconsciously chose to trust his neighbor, immediately clearing his mind and using his soul to feel everything around him.

It was incredibly fast; in the blink of an eye, he received a response from the mystery.

【Use light to combat darkness, use warmth to combat cold, use flame to embrace death.】

Lynch's heart stirred. He immediately put on the ring and, transforming into a mass of flame, charged onto the platform.

The next moment, a scream suddenly rang out from his ear.

"Ah~~~"