The Blood Sacrifice

The Great Elder immediately objected, his tone resolute."I believe sticking to the original plan and proceeding with the blood sacrifice is the safest course of action. This is our final chance to awaken the Goddess—we cannot afford to take risks!

When the Goddess first returned to our tribe, we had numerous sword gods among us, yet even they could not restore her. Now, this mere Sword Saint dares to claim he can help? It is nothing but wishful thinking.

We must not indulge in unrealistic fantasies. If we waste this last opportunity, the entire Dark Moon Tribe will face utter annihilation!"

Hearing the Great Elder's words, the other elders nodded in agreement.

After much deliberation, the Chief ultimately decided to proceed with the blood sacrifice as planned.

Rowan, though helpless in the face of their decision, couldn't help but admire the unwavering loyalty and dedication of the Dark Moon Tribe.

No matter what, I must save the Dark Moon Goddess.These stubborn fools better not doom my future wife before I get the chance to act.

The blood sacrifice ceremony began.

The Seer stood solemnly at the forefront of the altar, his voice deep and clear as he led the sacred yet somber ritual.

"Tribesmen, we have performed countless blood sacrifices, offering the lives of our people in hopes of awakening the Goddess. Today, we may finally reach the end of this long and painful road.

If we succeed, the Goddess will return and lead us to a glorious future. But if we fail… our Dark Moon Tribe will be forever lost in darkness."

A heavy silence fell over the gathering. Many among the tribe harbored the unspoken fear that this ritual, like all the ones before, would end in failure. But no one dared voice their despair aloud.

Then, thirty chosen warriors stepped forward. Their footsteps were heavy, yet unwavering, as they approached the altar.

These warriors, each among the finest of the tribe, began to chant in unison, invoking the power of the blood sacrifice.

A strange glow surrounded them as their bodies gradually faded into wisps of ethereal energy, dissolving into the air like smoke.

The shimmering energy drifted upward, merging with the altar.

A sorrowful wail echoed through the sacred grounds.

The families of the sacrificed wept bitterly, their cries reverberating through the night, drenching the ceremony in grief.

Yet despite their heartbreak, no hatred marred their faces.

They understood.

This was their duty.

If the Goddess could be revived, if their people could be saved, then no sacrifice was too great.

The Chief stood silently at the side, his heart heavy as iron.

Every year, the blood sacrifices tore a hole in his soul. Losing the finest warriors of the tribe was a devastating blow, weakening their strength.

Yet there was no other way.

This had to work.

The entire tribe held their breath, eyes locked on the altar, desperate for a miracle.

Then, at last, a gentle yet weak voice echoed through the air.

"You have all worked hard, my people."

A wave of elation surged through the crowd.

Excited cheers erupted like thunder.

"She has awakened! The Goddess has awakened!""We are saved! Our tribe has hope again!"

But while the common folk rejoiced, the elders' faces remained grim.

Their foreboding was soon proven true.

The Goddess's voice, though soft, carried a sorrowful weight.

"This is the first time I have awakened… but it will also be the last. I failed to regain my divine essence. My strength is fading, and soon, I… I will cease to exist."

The joyous uproar was extinguished in an instant.

It was as if the entire tribe had fallen from heaven straight into the abyss.

Despair crushed their spirits like an invisible hand squeezing the life out of them.

The elders trembled in anguish.

They had sacrificed so much, waited so long… only for this cruel fate to greet them.

It was unbearable.

At that moment, Rowan stepped forward, his voice firm and unwavering.

"I can restore you."

The Dark Moon Goddess let out a soft, bitter laugh.

"I appreciate your kindness… but you do not understand my condition. It is impossible."

The Chief, as if grasping at his last straw of hope, quickly interjected.

"Goddess, this man is different. In our world, he has reached the level of a Divine Envoy through his own strength—an achievement unheard of.

We have exhausted all other options. I implore you, grant him a chance!"

The elders, upon hearing this, dropped to their knees.

"Please, Goddess! Let him try! We cannot accept defeat so easily!"

The rest of the tribe, though unfamiliar with the specifics, echoed the sentiment.

"Please, Goddess! Let him try!"

Faced with their heartfelt pleas, the Dark Moon Goddess sighed.

"…If you can enter the altar, then you may attempt it. However, this altar is not something one can step into at will—it requires faith."

Rowan took a deep breath.

Under the watchful eyes of the entire tribe, he channeled the faith energy within him and extended it toward the altar.

A flash of light erupted.

In an instant, Rowan vanished.

He had entered the altar's inner sanctum.

The gathered tribesmen gasped, their eyes wide with astonishment and renewed hope.

They silently prayed, Let this man perform a miracle. Let him save our Goddess.

Inside the altar space, Rowan looked ahead.

Seated in the center was a woman of unparalleled beauty, her figure elegant, her face divine—yet she radiated an unmistakable aura of frailty.

Dark wisps of energy clung to her form, gnawing at her very being.

Rowan recognized it instantly.

This corruption…

It was the same as what he had seen before—on the Goddess of Blessings.

But unlike her, the Dark Moon Goddess was not bound by shackles.

Her prison was not of chains—

It was of time itself.