Chapter 30: The New Moon

Hearing Oliver's words, Mel couldn't help but tremble.

She subconsciously gripped the teacup in her hand, her knuckles turning white from the force.

"So... the Omniscience Society won't harm Veronica, right?"

Mel asked cautiously.

"At least not in the short term," Oliver nodded, his tone carrying a sense of certainty.

"They want you to stay in the Stress Phase; that makes you easier to control. If you entered the Development Phase because of Veronica's death, that would be a problem for them. After all, from the Omniscience Society's perspective, you're just a Stress Phase Shepherd, and that Quintessence currently exists in a relatively stable state in your body. If you entered the Development Phase, you might absorb the Quintessence within you, and that would be a huge loss for them."

Hearing this explanation, Mel breathed a slight sigh of relief.

But then, an even more terrifying thought surfaced in her mind.

"Then... if they find that they can't get what they want from me, will they—"

Oliver was silent for a moment, then slowly spoke: "Don't worry, I will send people to protect her in secret."

"Thank you, Bishop."

Mel said gratefully.

"No need to thank me. Protecting the believers is what a bishop should do," Oliver smiled and waved his hand.

"But you still need to learn to protect yourself as soon as possible. Red Moon Shepherds are famous for being good at fighting. Although I don't advocate violence, I have to admit that appropriate violence is absolutely necessary."

"But I don't have a suitable weapon, and I haven't learned any combat skills," Mel answered subconsciously.

"If you'd like, I have a set of self-defense combat techniques I can teach you," Oliver replied.

"Don't worry about not being able to grasp it in a short period. You can use a supplication ritual and directly ask the Red Moon for the knowledge. Of course, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't recommend you do this. The Red Moon doesn't like it. But the current situation is special, and you are Her Shepherd, so I think she'll agree."

"Then this time... what kind of sacrifice do I need to prepare?"

Mel asked.

"Let me think.... The Red Moon's requirements for a sacrifice require a connection between giving and receiving..."

Oliver pondered for a moment.

"Last time you bought a mystical art with money, which was equivalent to buying knowledge with money. This time, you're asking the Red Moon for power, so the sacrifice naturally needs to be related to this power."

After a moment of thought, Oliver seemed to have an idea.

He looked at Mel and said: "How about we use a hunt... of the pseudo-sages as the sacrifice?"

Mel was stunned, then looked confused.

"Pseudo-sages, do you mean those members of the Omniscience Society?"

"Exactly," Oliver nodded slightly.

"The people of the Omniscience Society call themselves sages, but in reality, they are just a group of lunatics who have lost their minds in pursuit of knowledge. The Red Moon not only governs sacrifice but also favors the hunt. A hunt against heretics as a sacrifice for this grace is the most suitable."

"But where am I supposed to find people from the Omniscience Society to sacrifice to the Red Moon?"

Mel frowned.

"You don't need to worry about that. The Red Moon is a patient deity," Oliver smiled.

"This sacrifice doesn't need to be given immediately. You and those pseudo-sages will inevitably clash sooner or later. This sacrifice only needs to be offered at that time."

With that, he turned and walked to the bookshelf, reaching out and taking down a carved silver casket.

When Oliver held the carved silver casket out to Mel, she smelled a strange mix of rust and sandalwood.

As the silver casket opened, a curved bone knife lay on a deep red cushion.

The blade was crescent-shaped and covered in vein-like dark patterns.

The hilt was inlaid with three moonstones.

"This is the New Moon," Oliver's voice was full of reverence.

"Use it to pierce the hearts of the pseudo-sages and please the Red Moon."

Mel reached out and gently touched it.

The moment her finger touched the blade, a million people's whispers suddenly sounded in her ears.

It was as if countless souls were trembling on the blade.

She immediately felt her throat tighten.

The hilt was colder than she expected.

A chill seeped down her finger bones into her spine, subtly resonating with the restless Quintessence in her body.

"This knife...."

"This knife has been used by many Shepherds," Oliver said.

"It records the combat techniques of every user, but you're not meant to blindly imitate them. You need to explore a combat style that belongs only to you from their experiences."

"Then... should we start the supplication ritual now?"

Mel asked.

"No, let's do it tonight," Oliver shook his head.

"Come back later tonight."

Night fell.

The church bells echoed in the silence.

Mel found an excuse to leave home and came to the church.

The moonlight now shone through the stained glass and cast mottled light and shadow on the marble floor.

Oliver was waiting in the prayer hall.

The air in the hall was filled with the faint scent of spices.

Dark red candles burned on the walls, making the entire room flicker between light and dark.

"Are you ready?"

Oliver's voice was exceptionally solemn in the silent church.

"Yes."

The girl nodded gently.

"Then, kneel down and face the statue."

Oliver said, then offered the New Moon.

Mel knelt before the statue as instructed.

The Red Moon shone down from the dome, draping her in a layer of dark red gauze.

Then, she took the New Moon with both hands.

The sharp tip of the knife cut her tender finger, and crimson blood drops dripped onto the red candle.

As the knife tip sank into her flesh, the vein-like patterns suddenly came to life.

Dark red filaments drilled into her body along with the blood, weaving a New Moon totem on the back of her hand, like a tattoo.

In the midst of the intense burning pain, seventeen unfamiliar memories pierced her consciousness like sharp arrows.

She saw a high priestess draped in a starry veil slit a heretic's throat on an altar; a raven-feathered assassin using this knife to slice open the iron plate of a carriage; a masked dancer performing a dance of death among the crowd.

At the same time, the moonstones on the hilt of the knife had turned blood-red.

The memories flooding in seemed to be reshaping her muscle memory.

When Mel tried to retreat, her legs automatically took on a lunging stance.

"Don't be consumed by those memories," Oliver's voice suddenly sounded.

"They are the firewood; you are the one holding the fire."

The candlelight suddenly surged into blood-colored thorns, enveloping the two of them.

Mel felt her right eye begin to melt.

The liquid moonlight dripped down her cheek, etching dense prayers into the floor.

The words crawled like live snakes towards the statue, converging into a vortex at the Red Moon's formless head.

"Now, state your sacrifice."

Oliver's voice suddenly became a triple harmony.

Mel bit the tip of her tongue.

The pain and the smell of blood allowed her to barely stay conscious.

"By the Red Moon, I offer a hunt against the pseudo-sages as my sacrifice..."

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