"A stone used in ancient, barbaric rituals; the result of evil worship," Lance comnted, his gaze sowhat cold and detached.
Though Lance despised these bastards, he still rcifully granted the man a swift end.
He was about to act when he was suddenly stopped.
"Wait! Do not disrupt the ritual."
Alhazred, on the other hand, a scholar deeply focused on Mysticism, shared no such concerns. Instead, he raised a torch and approached.
Normal Transcendents certainly lacked Lance's audacity to ddle carelessly. Alhazred did not touch the stone rashly, instead studying it carefully before explaining.
"This is part of a sacrificial ritual. Killing him would complete its final step. We can disrupt the ritual first."
Without further ado, Alhazred's attention shifted from the body to the stone monunt. "This Sacrificial Stele is filled with evil power. Through the Pign's daily rituals, it has gained magical strength and will likely affect anyone who touches it."
Lance also wasted no words, imdiately reaching out and pressing his hand against the Sacrificial Stele to activate the Sacrifice.
Influence? Who do you think you're trying to influence?
Alhazred wanted to say more, but suddenly, he perceived the so-called ritual and all its evil powers dissipate instantaneously. Even the chaotic aura lingering nearby cald considerably.
It was as if Lance had caught a bomb in his hand and detonated it, yet not the slightest sound reached the outside world.
Alhazred understood he needed to maintain a sense of awe; the Lord's power was beginning to exceed his comprehension.
But Lance cared little for such things. Having already dispatched the Heretics and perford a counter-Sacrifice, he thoroughly extracted every last bit of Spiritual Essence, his exploiter's bone-gnawing greed on full display.
Continuing to explore, he quickly discovered the flayed human skins.
These blood-soaked skins looked soft and elastic, even seeming to retain a human body's warmth, tempting one to touch them.
Elsewhere, other skins were stretched taut on wooden fras, displayed so largely that looking at them evoked the unsettling sensation of one's own skin being pulled.
The bloodstains had not been cleaned; dried blood seeped into the hide, leaving dark red scabs.
Yet, these failed to conceal the incomprehensible, twisted runes inscribed on the stretched hides.
"Crudely written text on what looks like stretched and tanned human skin..." Lance muttered. "These are the raw materials for Human Skin Drums. The Pigman Priests were likely the ones who made them. We've underestimated their abilities."
Lance had previously thought the Ascension Sect supplied those Human Skin Drums, but it now seed the Pign made them themselves.
The Pign have mastered the core technology!
Behind the skins, they quickly found more. Near the Sacrificial Stele, where the skins were processed, Lance found a stack of leather scrolls. These were clearly damaged or incomplete pieces of flayed human skin. "This must be that Pigman Priest's records."
Unsuitable for Human Skin Drums, they had been used as parchnt for record-keeping.
The twisted, crude inscriptions had clearly been carved by the Pigman Priest's blade, one stroke at a ti.
"Evil knowledge, written down," Alhazred noted, sowhat surprised. "Textual records are extrely useful for studying Mysticism, but..."
He quickly added, "Vicious Curses seem to linger on them—resentful souls Sealed by ritual Spells."
"Then they are free now," Lance said, collecting the scrolls and tossing them into his Exhibition Room to be perused at leisure.
He even pulled the slightly dried skins from their wooden fras, utterly unconcerned about any chaotic Curses.
Both Alhazred and Amanda were sowhat taken aback. The Lord truly embodied dominance; fear seed an impossible concept for him.
And indeed, the so-called Curses were effortlessly destroyed in Lance's presence, instead serving to replenish his Spiritual Essence.
Lance was like an RPG protagonist looting villagers' hos, using Sacrifice on everything he saw to plunder all Spiritual Essence.
After a full sweep of the area, the group returned to the pile of carcasses, and Lance offered his assessnt.
"This place is less a slaughterhouse and more a religious site. For these Pign, what appears to be slaughter is imbued with special religious aning, not rely a ans of sustenance. It's like an offering to a 'god,' which, after the ritual's completion, still ends up in their stomachs. It seems they must first Sacrifice their prey to this 'god' before they can eat it. No wonder the crippled Pign weren't here; such flawed specins probably don't even qualify to enter."
Lance's theory addressed the problems with previous conjectures. Otherwise, why would a Pigman Priest and a Sacrificial Stele be here?
The Pign, a race manipulated by the Old Ancestor since their creation, had been his playthings. It was likely these ritualistic acts also bore his mark.
The Pigman Priest's existence warranted deeper consideration; it was more than just a Pigman Spellcaster.
The Old Ancestor had endowed it with more human traits, making it smarter. It possessed near-human intelligence, allowing it to comprehend and master things like the text etched on human skin and the crafting of various tools.
What is a Priest? Simply an interdiary between mortals and a god. In other words, a dium through which the Old Ancestor controls the Pign.
Lance had always been curious why the Old Ancestor, who never seed to do anything serious, would take such an interest in the Pign.
It now seed the Old Ancestor had his thods, influencing the Pign through their Priests.
He raised his hand, offering the piled-up corpses as a Sacrifice. The Void Devourer erged, an eternally ravenous beast, never satisfied no matter the quantity of offerings.
But it was quite picky, showing no reaction to re bones—clearly, they had been tainted by the Old Ancestor and were deed unworthy.
On one side lay fresh at, still holding so value; on the other, a heap of miscellaneous trash and gnawed white bones.
Gazing at the bones riddled with teeth marks, Lance couldn't help but grimace in disgust.
"HUH!" Just then, he seed to discover sothing. He kicked the bones aside. As the pile collapsed with a crash, a barely noticeable glint of gold was revealed.
Picking it up, he saw it was a Gold Coin!
"The saying 'gold always glimrs' holds true," he quipped.
Examining the Gold Coin, Lance realized he had overlooked sothing. Many things aningless to Pign held value for humans.
The Pign's accumulated spoils lay here, years of them; so might be quite valuable.
At this thought, Lance's hoarding instincts flared up again. Preventing him from rummaging through the trash was worse than killing him.
A mont ago, he had been waxing eloquent, discussing various aspects of Pigman society, analyzing their social structure and behavioral logic.
But the next second, Lance transford into a scavenger, eagerly sifting through the garbage the Pign had discarded.
Bones, tattered clothes, all sorts of refuse...
You are a Noble Lord. An obsession with money is understandable. Gluttony, too, is acceptable. Even indulging in lavish balls, feasts, and the company of elegant Ladies to savor a libertine life would be fine. But here you are, sifting through ancient bones, all excited—that's sowhat... problematic.
Alhazred and Amanda found it hard to comprehend. Boudica, on the other hand, was quite happy to join Lance in picking through the refuse.
Lance could only say they didn't recognize true value. He enjoyed the thrill of adventure and the pleasure of discovery, not just the items themselves.
"Holy shit!" Lance suddenly exclaid. He fished a small leather pouch from the jumbled refuse, its gri long dried.
When he opened it, he found a bag of Coins mixed with gemstones. A rough estimate suggested the single, translucent gemstone alone could be worth thousands of Gold Coins.
This scene dumbfounded Alhazred and Amanda.
What! He's actually serious?
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