Unholy Player

Chapter 498: The Owner of the Scarlet Sea (Part 3)

With his composure and confidence worn thin, he tried to squeeze everything into those three seconds. He forced out the one thing that might make her stop.

"I have a treasure to complete your God."

It was the strongest card he had. Even so, he didn’t get to enjoy the effect of his words. His body burst yet again a second later, turning into a rain of flesh and blood, the promise of the offer briefly lingering in the heavy air.

When he next appeared, he dropped to his knees and wheezed, "W-Why?" His breaths were rough and disbelieving.

The woman studied his worn-out state and replied with cool displeasure, "Your tone when saying ’God’ wasn’t appropriate."

The man froze, stunned by the sheer pettiness of the answer. Only now did he truly grasp how deep her God complex ran, far beyond what he had accounted for.

Still, her interest was clearly stirred. This time she chose to speak instead of attack. "You said the remains of the Heart of the Blood Palace are gone. Explain it."

Not wanting to provoke her again, he rushed to answer. "Someone in the Outer Region already found the remains and used for themselves."

The woman held her tongue for a moment. When she finally spoke, her voice slipped out of the mask as a thin, venomous hiss. "Who?"

The idea that someone had managed to use the crumbled, destroyed treasure was something that rubbed against her understanding of how it should work.

For the cult, the remains were still valuable because their structure was made from corrupted blood. For anyone else, those same fragments should have been nothing more than useless sludge, a pile of trash no one could repurpose.

"I can’t say that." He let out a worn breath as he replied, fully aware of what that refusal would cost him and accepting it anyway.

His body immediately burst again. When he reappeared a short distance away, he landed on his knees, dragging air into his lungs in sharp, uneven pulls, his shoulders trembling with small involuntary shudders under the strain.

"And why is it that you can’t tell me?" The woman watched him without any visible concern for how close he seemed to collapsing for good. Her voice stayed flat and cold.

"B-Because..." He tried to gather his breath between a few coughing fits, hoping she would hold back her attack until he finished. "It’s a name you can’t bear."

He braced himself for another round of death and revival. Fortunately, no explosion followed.

Instead, the cult leader’s next words came out calm and direct, strangely giving the impression that she had accepted his answer. "What is your purpose?"

Feeling both surprised and lucky, the man didn’t question the woman’s logic. He simply raised one hand and pointed toward the gathered robed figures still holding their defensive positions.

Her eyes followed the gesture, and she quickly realized he wasn’t indicating the cult members at all. His finger was aimed at the body stretched out in the blood pool behind them.

She waited for his answer, curiosity and a simmering expectation winding together inside her.

"I will help you resurrect the Owner of the Scarlet Sea."

The name ripped through the ritual grounds. Every robed figure, along with the cult leader herself, reacted. Small flinches, a faint intake of breath, a subtle tightening of posture—signs they were struggling to contain their response.

It wasn’t the goal itself that shocked them. Wanting to resurrect a God was nothing strange for dark organizations and people like them; many chased the same kind of blasphemous dream, so that part was easy to accept.

What shook them was the name he used. It was the honorific title only they knew and only they dared to use for their God.

Hearing it from an outsider felt like a secret being dragged out into the open, raw and exposed.

"Who are you?" The cult leader’s tone grew wary. It was now obvious to her this man was not a simple intruder.

Seeing their reactions, the man felt his confidence return. He steadied his breathing and straightened his back, gathering the last pieces of composure he had left. "I’m just a scientist who, with some luck, gained some knowledge about forgotten gods."

The grin that followed barely had time to settle on his face before his body once again burst into carnage, leaving nothing behind but scattered flesh and the echo of his words.

When he reappeared yet again, on his knees and looking thoroughly worn down, he spoke in a strained voice. "W-wait... Stop it, or it will become really dangerous."

He stretched out his hand. In his palm, an item shaped like a key materialized, bright red with throbbing veins running along its surface, pulsing faintly like a piece of living flesh.

"This is a treasure from the Corrupted King’s collection. This item will assist you in completing the body needed for the Blood God to descend. ’’

The key ripped itself free from his palm and flew toward the cult leader, cutting through the air in a clean, straight line as though it knew exactly where it belonged.

She caught it with ease. Her delicate fingers, tipped with long black nails, closed around the item as she focused on its description to confirm whether the man was telling the truth. Her attention sank into the glowing interface only visible to her.

[Name] Key of the Crimson Vault

[Rank] 4

Description:

Once, it served as the gate warden to the Corrupted King’s most coveted treasures. Now it lingers as a diminished relic, a hungry wish-giver that will answer a desire of your choosing in exchange for a small sacrifice.

Every wish it grants leaves a curse coiled around the one who dared to ask.

—

As she read, a slight tremor ran through her hand, her deepest cravings stirring the moment she confirmed the treasure was genuine.

The Corrupted King was also the owner and creator of the Heart of the Blood Palace. Only those who truly understood who he was knew that the one the world called the Corrupted King would later become the Blood God after ascending to Godhood.

So the one the cult wanted to resurrect and the creator of the treasure were, in fact, the same person.

The fact that this treasure was Rank 4, a level that would make even Sages and Demigods envious, elevated its value to something beyond rare. In the cult’s eyes, it was nothing short of priceless.

With a relic crafted from the Blood God’s own flesh and power, they could finally complete the body He would inhabit upon His descent. This piece filled the last empty space in their plan.

But before moving ahead, the cult leader asked the question that still lingered. "Why do you want Him to descend?"

For the Blood Cult, the reason didn’t need to be said out loud. They wanted a God to worship, and everything they did existed for that goal. This whole place, and every drop of blood they had spilled here, was for bringing Him back.

The man standing before them, however, clearly did not belong to the Blood Path. If anything, with his bright look and easy manner, he looked more suited to the so-called righteous side than a dark faction like theirs.