The Church of Fate

"If you don't care about your own life or death, then you should think about the benefits of analyzing and sharing information about this change to the player world, right?"

Blun didn't reply, just nodded, and slightly bent down to take a sip of the already poured tea.

Ali didn't pay attention to Blun's indifference, she just folded her arms and leaned back in her chair to rest.

The Church of Fate, a church founded by system-owning players. As one of the most mysterious non-governmental organizations in the world, they do not care about any problems in the world except for the fluctuations and mysteries of the game's copy.

No one knows how many members this organization has or what its potential is, only that its headquarters can appear anywhere in the world.

The members of the church all have one thing in common. They do not care about their own life or death and the lives of those around them, and their actions are all extremely crazy and disregard benefits. As long as they want, no matter how crazy the plan is, they can do it.

That is why government-affiliated groups or groups established for peace and survival always want to stay as far away from them as possible. Because they cannot be crazy.

However, solo players like her do not care. As long as they are alive, it does not matter.

Above all, this strange transformation is also a guarantee that he will not do anything crazy beyond the safety threshold.

Because they are people who are almost crazy about the change of fate, even though they can always follow the so-called fate, and die or continue living.

They only care about the strange change of the game, because they see it as a change of fate.

A crazy church.

The western corridor was as quiet as a nameless dream.

Suan and Clinton, their voices low as if afraid to touch the walls and break the sound.

"Are you sure we're going in the right direction?"

"Sure… I saw the stairs just now."

Clinton replied, but he also felt increasingly uneasy.

And then in the middle of the wider corridor, where the oil lamp light was strangely dim, he appeared.

No footsteps. No door sounds. No alarms.

Just… standing there.

Right in the center of the passage, towering as if he had been there all along, as if the corridor had just revealed him in the blink of an eye.

The black cloak was long enough to reach the heels, not stained with dew, not stained with dust.

His hands were clasped in front of his stomach, thin leather gloves hugging his skinny joints.

And… a squinting smile. The smile made people feel like they had just been read, but they could not resist.

"I am glad to have found you. You have come quite far."

Suan felt a chill down her spine as if someone had slid a hand down her spine. The mist outside the glass door had begun to creep up in a spiral. Not quickly. But steadily.

Although she had tried to keep her mind clear in this strange place, where she did not know if she was safe or not.

But these things were still a bit too much for a newcomer like her.

"The guest room is ready. The others are also being led back."

He continued, then without waiting for approval, turned around with the precision of a clock, and took a step.

Just a light "clack" from the heel of the shoe hitting the floor, resounding too clearly in the space filled with a strange feeling.

The two glanced at each other. And followed.

Not out of trust. Not out of peace of mind.

Simply because not following seems worse.

At the same time, in the east corridor, Dex and Abigail were walking in the dim light of the small oil lamp that Dex held.

The light flickered on each painting on the wall, reflecting something... almost alive in the eyes of the people in the paintings.

"Wasn't it sunny just now?"

Abigail blurted out, then fell silent. She didn't want to hear her footsteps anymore, it was too... lonely.

From the darkness at the turn ahead, a figure suddenly appeared, making Abigail almost drop the lamp.

He was standing there.

Not "stepping out", nor "appearing from afar".

Simply standing there. Like a missed heartbeat when waking up in the middle of the night.

It was the butler.

It was still the same face, eyes half-closed, the smile still on his face.

"Oh. I'm glad I found you. You've come a long way…than expected."

Abigail screamed. Surprise, panic, and the urge to run were all over her mind.

Her scream echoed through the air, then fell to the ground like broken glass.

But the butler didn't react. His smile didn't budge an inch.

Abigail gasped, her hands clutching Dex's shoulders, but he remained silent, his eyes deep in the darkness.

Dex looked at him, trying to analyze, to weigh, to think of what he could do to be safe in this strange situation.

"The guest room is ready. The others are being escorted in."

The words were the same, word for word, beat for beat. Like a tape being played back.

Not a single mistake.

Abigail swallowed. The panic had disappeared, leaving an invisible fear that haunted her.

Dex nodded slightly, saying nothing. He just silently followed the butler, who was leading the way.

Because what else could they do if they stayed?

And besides, they had no idea if staying here was safe or not. They would rather risk following this man, at least they would have a chance.

Dex and Abigail from the east, Suan and Clinton from the west, almost at the same time, they turned the corner.

In front of them, was the large gate that was half-closed leading to the second floor living room.

The two butlers walked in from two directions at the same time.

Exactly the same. Every fold of their clothes, every step, every squinting smile.

Not a single deviation.

The two figures merged together.

No collision. No sound.

Like a mass of slime merging into one original form. Becoming a single butler. Standing there, back to the living room door.

In the middle of the four people, as if they had never been separated.

Abigail let out a loud scream, her feet slipping on the shiny marble floor, almost falling backwards, if Dex hadn't grabbed her sleeve in time.

She trembled unconsciously, Suan also took a few steps back. Clinton frowned, not knowing what he was thinking.

The butler turned his head, slowly, the smile still intact, not a trace of uncertainty reflected in his expression.

"You're all here."

In the living room, where the warm yellow light shone down on the tea table,

Blun picked up his cup, leisurely sipping it as if the noise in the hallway was not worth frowning at.

On the contrary, Ali, who had heard the footsteps echoing through the door, had tilted his head slightly, his fingers sliding down his shirt, pulling out a thin water blade.

"No need to be so cautious. They're back."

"Footsteps."

Ali looked at Blun, who calmly put down his teacup. The shimmering water reflected the image of a cold-faced teenager calmly eating a piece of cake.

'It's definitely their footsteps. One of them was wearing hiking boots.'

'Damn, this weird dungeon is making me so stressed that I forgot to recognize my teammates...'