The Gods' Foolish Game

Chapter 7: I Plan to Give Them a Child**

The duration of the Holy Light Barrier was dwindling fast. Hunter’s face, slick with sweat and etched with grim determination, began to twist into a snarl of frustration. He roared, his voice thick with desperation.

“Two minutes left! Cleric, get ready to restore my spirit! If we can’t think of something, once this barrier falls, our only option is to break out! Assassin, prepare to regroup! I’ll smash a path forward and lead the charge—you clear the trash off my back! Mage, get ready for Acceleration!”

Three clenched his fists, about to speak, when Chen suddenly stood up. His voice was unnervingly calm as he turned to Nangong.

“Do you know ‘Overload Healing’? I need the Timewalker to cast another Area Acceleration. The biggest possible range.”

All eyes snapped to Chen, a flicker of hope rising that he’d found a solution.

“You have a plan?”

“You…”

Three’s spirit visibly lifted. “No need for Overload Healing! Just top off my spirit. I have ‘Overload Casting’!”

Overload—a method of spellcasting that overdrew all potential from the near future to enhance the current spell’s rank and effect.

Chen shot Three an appreciative glance. *A 1900-rated player is easier to work with.* But he shook his head. “Might not be enough. I need a massive area. Nangong, can you do it?”

Nangong gritted her teeth, her gaze sweeping the horde of Terrorfiends beyond the shimmering light. She gave a sharp nod. Holding back now meant certain death. There was no room for hidden cards.

“Now?”

“Now!” Chen’s reply was absolute.

Overload Healing could preemptively draw on future restorative power, effectively raising the target’s spirit capacity—a crucial tool in dire straits.

With grim resolve, Nangong stood. Before the stunned group, she slowly began to unbutton her tightly-wound black shirt, revealing the body she had kept concealed.

As the fabric fell away, a horrifying tapestry of scars was laid bare—countless, twisted, centipede-like wounds crisscrossing her skin from neck to chest to arms. The pale, delicate flesh was a map of brutal suffering.

Summer’s brow furrowed in distress. Three’s pupils contracted sharply.

Chen’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He recognized her now.

She was a Believer of **Decay**.

“A Bloodprice Cleric?!” Hunter blurted out, stunned.

**Decay** was the second Entity on the **Abyss** Path—the crescendo of corruption, the universe’s final tomb. Its **Edict** was to accelerate decay, so its Believers often practiced self-mutilation to fulfill it. **Decay’s** divine power worked the same way: the faster a Believer decayed, the more power they received in return.

This was why **Decay’s** clerics were called Bloodprice Clerics. They traded their own life force for their allies’. The more they wounded themselves, the more potent their healing.

Of course, grave wounds could also mean death. Such was the will of **Decay**. Thus, balancing self-destruction and salvation was the eternal, gruesome calculus for every Bloodprice Cleric.

Nangong wasted no time. Her brow furrowed in pain, teeth clenched, she drew a serrated dagger from her belt. Without hesitation, she drew a line across her abdomen.

Then, between her ribs.

A third time, following the gruesome path of her collarbone, she opened another terrifying crimson seam.

Three offerings complete, she whispered a prayer, her voice a strained breath: “All life shall rot. All things must crumble.”

A thick, putrescent light erupted from her wounds, bursting forth and coalescing into a stream that poured into Three’s body.

Three felt a sudden surge of power. His spirit was fully restored, his condition so peak he felt like roaring. The returning strength brought a sliver of confidence back, though it was tempered.

He looked gravely at Chen. “I can Overload to accelerate the nearby area. But after that, I’ll most likely be useless for the next twelve hours. Chen… can we last that long?”

Chen offered a faint, knowing smile. “I don’t plan on dying. And I won’t.”

Hunter, irritated by the back-and-forth, spun around and barked, “Save the dramatic crap for later! Focus on the damn task! Cleric, if you’ve got a plan, spit it out now!”