Inside the chapel, the blonde girl who had been kneeling in prayer suddenly snapped her eyes open. Her body lurched forward as she lost her balance; luckily, she managed to catch herself with her right hand just in time to avoid cracking her forehead open on the floor.
After pushing herself up, Calca's left hand hovered near her neck, though she didn't dare actually touch it. Pain. It hurts like hell! Although there was no physical wound, her neck had become abnormally sensitive; even the slightest phantom brush made her hair stand on end from the lingering sting.
The side effects of her "wool-fleeing" hadn't subsided yet: she felt a throbbing headache, dizziness, and a heavy sense of vertigo. Calca felt that the only thing keeping her conscious right now was the sharp prickling in her neck acting as a forced "life support."
"Light... [Light Heal]."
An emerald radiance flickered to life, and the pain was suppressed by a slow trickle of cool energy. Calca felt like her brain was a computer rebooting, automatically loading the files from before the "unexpected shutdown"—specifically, the imagery of her own decapitation.
The sudden assault of these pre-death visions caused her breath to quicken. Fortunately, her tolerance for "death" was remarkably high, or she might have gone insane on the spot. She walked slowly back to her bedroom, her mind beginning to analyze the situation: the fact that [Light Heal] couldn't fully restore her state proved that the damage was to her psyche and soul. It confirmed that everything active within that space was a spiritual entity.
Stepping into her bedroom, the magic watch on her wrist displayed: 19:30.
She collapsed onto the large bed, feeling the positive energy within her body begin to recede. The efficiency with which humans converted mana was incredibly low, which was the primary reason for the existence of level caps. To ensure she woke up exactly at 1:00 AM to utilize the "once-per-day" cooldown reset, she gave herself a silent psychological suggestion.
Perhaps because her body was so exhausted, Calca fell asleep quickly. In her daze, her dreams were a bizarre kaleidoscope; the magic circle data for [Mist Bank] transformed into endless walls of code surrounding her. Then, a figure appeared—over two meters tall, clad in a black hooded robe, and wielding a cruciform scythe.
Surshana, the God of Death.
The figure approached slowly and suddenly swung the scythe! In an instant, the world felt like a piece of paper being torn apart. A gust of wind blew back the black hood, revealing the skull that glowed in the night, staring blankly at Calca.
But this time, the bright pinpoints of light were gone from his eyes. There were only empty sockets and an endless, hollow darkness.
Calca jerked awake, drenched in cold sweat. It was just past 1:00 AM. While her physical symptoms had mostly vanished, the worry in her eyes had only deepened.
"A skull... the Dark God Surshana... but why was he still able to move?"
If even the "strongest" among them, the God of Death, had ended up in such a state, then what about the other four gods?
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