The interior of the facility was eerily quiet.
Unlike the outside, which was crawling with various sea monsters and villagers, this place was empty of such life.
However, what was stored inside was more than enough to send shivers down one's spine.
After all, few people could remain unfazed when faced with human limbs suspended in glass vats, placed alongside various organs from monstrous creatures.
So of the organs were even still alive, twitching faintly—a detail that made the scene all the more unsettling.
But to Steven, this was nothing to be alard about.
Not because he had experience with such experints, but because he had seen far worse in movies and certain grotesque mods.
At the very least, this setup could still be considered part of scientific research.
It was for dical purposes—so what was there to be disgusted about?
Casually strolling past the rows of floating organs, Steven soon noticed a room guarded by two sea monsters with heads that blood like flowers.
According to his minimap, the man who had fled from the town earlier was inside that very room.
With guards present, opening the door with his usual button trick was out of the question.
However, at the end of the day, it was just a door.
It might be difficult for others to bypass, but for a Minecrafter like him, there were plenty of ways to get through.
Instead of approaching the main entrance, Steven moved to the side of the room where a solid steel wall stood.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, bluish-purple pearl.
With a casual flick, he slamd the pearl against the wall in front of him.
In an instant, his body dissolved into shimring violet particles, and when he reappeared, half of his form was already lodged inside the steel wall.
The pressure squeezing against him was mildly uncomfortable, but after taking a couple of steps forward, he successfully phased through the solid barrier and entered the room.
What he has done is called the Ender Pearl wall-phasing trick—one of the most useful techniques in all of Minecraft.
Inside, Steven was greeted by the sight of several dissected human and sea monster corpses.
Their faces were eerily serene, as if they had not struggled at all before dying.
At the center of the room stood an elderly man draped in a gray ceremonial robe, performing a dissection with practiced ease.
As he worked, he listened intently to the escaped man, who was explaining sothing about potatoes.
"So the Inquisition plans to use this thing to change the fate of all Iberia?"
After hearing the man report, the robed elder set down his scalpel and took the potato in his hand, examining it with a puzzled expression.
From his perspective, it looked no different from an ordinary potato.
There was nothing remarkable about it—certainly nothing that matched the extraordinary claims the man had just made.
As soone who prided himself on being a researcher, he found it impossible to accept sothing that so blatantly defied the natural laws of biology.
"Just water, sunlight, and soil, and it can grow endlessly? If life could really be sustained that easily, then most biologists might as well go change their path of study."
But this realization only deepened the old man's confusion.
If this so-called miracle crop truly lacked such properties, then the Inquisition's grand plan to distribute it across Iberia would only accelerate their downfall.
Given the personality of Saint Carn—the one currently overseeing this region—this was absolutely not the kind of foolish order he would issue.
That old man might be getting on in years, but he was far from senile.
There had to be a deeper reason behind the Inquisition's actions, sothing worth investigating.
The white-haired, bearded elder fell silent, turning the potato over in his pale, almost bluish fingers.
With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the cultist in front of him.
His curiosity had been piqued. He needed to understand what the Inquisition was truly planning.
The Church of the Deep had not yet fully infiltrated their ranks, and no unforeseen events could be allowed to disrupt his plans.
This was not only about his ambitions, but also for the fate of the entire Church of the Deep.
His fingers lightly caressed the potato's rough surface, his eyes flickering with doubt—but only for a mont.
Now, however, was not the ti to continue his research.
"A guest from afar… how long do you intend to hide in the shadows?"
He turned his head toward where Steven was hiding.
Though he saw nothing but empty air, he was, after all, the master of this laboratory.
The mont an unfamiliar presence entered his domain, he had sensed it.
"Well, well, you're the first person to see through my disguise."
Steven chuckled and dropped his invisibility.
He looked intrigued rather than alard.
"Let guess… it's because of this weird material on the ground?"
He glanced down at the laboratory floor, which was coated in a faint layer of moss-like substance, similar to the "Nethersea Brand" he had encountered earlier.
In Minecraft, invisibility was just invisibility—it didn't conceal hitboxes, scent, or other physical disturbances. So being detected wasn't all that surprising.
Besides, he had never claid to be a stealth expert.
Getting caught was nothing out of the ordinary.
With a casual motion, Steven retrieved a folding chair from his inventory, unfolded it, and sat down, crossing his legs.
He studied the elder with open curiosity.
The man's face was kind, his expression calm and composed.
If Steven had to describe him, he was the very picture of a benevolent old grandfather—hardly the image of soone who held the title of Bishop of the Church of the Deep.
Then again, perhaps this was the most fitting appearance for soone in his position.
After all, weren't true bishops supposed to look wise and approachable?
The old bishop's gaze narrowed slightly as he studied Steven.
"Rather than your thods, I am far more interested in your purpose here."
The boy's nonchalant attitude, his complete lack of tension—as if he were lounging in his own backyard—only made the bishop's thoughts race faster.
Yet no matter how he searched his mory, he could not recall any relevant information about this young intruder.
One thing, however, was clear.
If he had managed to slip undetected into the very heart of this gathering site, he was certainly no ordinary individual.
And the way he lounged so casually only further emphasized one thing—he was confident, which ant he had sothing up his sleeve.
"What do you an by asking why I'm here? Shouldn't I be the one asking you that? You lot are the ones who are seeking trouble with , why did you say it as if it's my fault?"
Steven wagged a finger, pointing out the flaw in the old man's words.
He was rely here to defend his own rights, yet sohow, the situation had been twisted to make it seem like he was the one picking a fight with them.
Unlike these people, who seed to suffer from a chronic case of paranoia—treating everyone as a potential enemy—Steven had no interest in causing unnecessary trouble.
If no one provoked him, he much preferred spending his days basking in the sun and raising his daughter.
"We were the ones seeking trouble with you?"
The elder fell silent for a mont before realization struck.
If they were to na the person the Church of the Deep had been keeping the closest watch on recently, it would undoubtedly be him—the mysterious figure whose information the Inquisition had gone to great lengths to conceal.
All they knew was that this "mysterious man" had developed a special type of potato, sothing that could potentially revive Iberia's agriculture.
In their efforts to uncover his identity, the Church of the Deep had even taken the risk of orchestrating a trap against an Inquisition Inquisitor.
Yet, in the end, their plan had completely collapsed—because of a single, unexpected variable.
A boy.
A mysterious youth had appeared, and in the aftermath, over a thousand Seaborns had been slaughtered.
So of the Sea Terror that survived had reportedly suffered such intense psychological trauma that they developed an instinctive fear of the one responsible.
The bishop had never witnessed the event firsthand, but based on the accounts of his couriers, he could tell—this was soone on the level of a High Inquisitor, or perhaps even a Saint.
A true monster among n.
Yet never in his wildest imagination did he expect that the so-called harbinger of slaughter would turn out to be…
This.
A seemingly ordinary young man, sitting cross-legged with the relaxed deanor of a neighborhood kid stopping by for a chat.
From the bishop's perspective, Steven looked painfully normal—perhaps even too normal.
No Originium Arts.
No signs of Oripathy.
Thin and frail in appearance, he looked like soone who would struggle to take down a single Sea Terror—and more importantly, he was unard.
"I believe there may have been so kind of misunderstanding."
After a mont of contemplation, the elder chose to maintain a friendly facade, offering Steven a warm smile.
Of course, he would never truly mistake this boy for an ordinary human.
After all, what kind of "normal person" could turn invisible at will?
And bypass all of the security outside without so much as a hitch?
"I don't think there's any misunderstanding."
Steven flashed a grin in return—one that was just as "friendly."
Yet, there was nothing in his expression that suggested he had any genuine interest in making friends.
"You guys wanted to et , right? Well, what a coincidence. I wanted to et you too."
His smirk widened ever so slightly.
"Just call Steve. That way, if you want to co to haunt after they bury what is remain of your body, it would be easier to find ."
< >
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