Chapter 1123: Raising the Banner
Sensing the change in Lumian’s aura, the scorched banner-like 0–01 reacted immediately, its bloodstained surface rippling violently.

Deep within Lumian’s heart, a surge of emotions such as terror, awe, and worship erupted. It felt as if the air above him transformed into a crushing mountain, an iron-forged hand pressing down on his head, forcing him to bow, break his spine, and bend his knees.

Instinctively, he wanted to submit. Yet this submission wasn’t merely spiritual but encompassed his mind, body, and soul. If he yielded, he would immediately become a puppet of 0–01, stripped of his own will.

Lumian’s body ignited in flames, his iron-black bones creaking and groaning under the strain.

The blood-red mark on his brow glowed even brighter, instilling him with renewed courage. It kept his head upright, resisting the pressure.

How could a Blessed of the City of Calamity submit to the Uniqueness of the Red Priest?

Drawing on the essential power he had prayed for in advance, Lumian staggered yet resolutely ascended the mountain of corpses.

Suddenly, Abscessed Hand Zedus—akin to a beautiful work of art—along with numerous steel puppets and undead soldiers, appeared before him. They formed a blockade, attempting to halt Lumian’s advance.

At the same time, the numerous darkened bloodstains on the scorched banner regained their vibrancy.

This caused Lumian’s three heads to feel an invisible force tearing at them, as if they were about to be ripped from his body along with their bloody spines.
The head on Lumian’s left shoulder turned abruptly, and Alista Tudor’s face, now softer and more beautiful, gazed at Zedus.

The puppet-like, blank-faced Abscessed Hand Zedus froze in place, motionless.

He felt as if He were facing Himself.

How could I be a traitor?

How could I fight against myself?

His confusion caused the steel puppets and undead soldiers following Him to stop as well.

Just as 0–01 was about to issue new orders, Alista Tudor’s face tilted upward and looked at the scorched banner.

A resonance and recognition rippled through the void. The still-dormant 0–01, which was only acting reactively, suddenly calmed down.

Lumian’s figure vanished and reappeared in front of Deity’s Fallen Banner—0–01’s other name.

He extended his right hand toward the iron-black flagpole.

Instantly, his body began to rot. The violet flames and the intricate metallic bones entwined with runes deteriorated, dripping with vile yellow-green pus.

His soul also began to die, his thoughts teetering on the brink of eternal slumber.

The head on Lumian’s left shoulder straightened, the chaotic vortex face turning toward 0–01.

Decay, ruin, death, and eternal slumber—all of it paused momentarily, as though cowed by some force.

Some of this power converged toward the vortex face, becoming a fraction of the infinite possibilities it embodied.

Seizing the moment, Lumian grasped the ice-cold, sharp-edged flagpole.

Before 0–01 could fully awaken, still partially sealed, Lumian transformed into a towering steel giant wreathed in violet flames and forcibly pulled the bloodstained, scorched banner from the mountain of corpses.

Rumble!

The entire City of Exiles shook violently, as though struck by the most catastrophic earthquake in human history. Buildings collapsed, and fissures swallowed countless prisoners who couldn’t escape in time.

Rumble!

The wasteland surrounding the mountain of corpses, along with the entire underground mausoleum, crumbled toward the Salinger’s Blood Banner in Lumian’s hand. Entire sections slid into the void, a chaotic blackness where time and space twisted as if condensing into a singularity.

The underground mausoleum was being destroyed, Morora was being annihilated—this was the mutated power caused by the Red Priest Uniqueness being corrupted by a tributary of the River of Eternal Darkness.

This destruction was about to engulf Lumian and the 0–01 in his grasp.

Caught in the chaotic space-time, Lumian couldn’t escape. He stood atop the mountain of corpses, smiling as he raised the scorched, bloodstained banner like a soldier who had claimed the enemy’s flag in battle.

The next second, he pressed 0–01 against the vortex face of the head on his left shoulder, embedding it in the brow of that faceless, chaotic visage.

0–01 trembled violently.

Without fully awakening from its seal, Lumian had inserted it into the face with no eyes, nose, or mouth—a chaos vortex—right into the middle of the brows.

Alista Tudor’s face bellowed angrily, but He was powerless to snatch 0-01 from him.

Lumian didn’t allow 0-01—the charred, blood-stained banner—to fully merge with the face of chaos. It was only embedded—half inside, half outside.

The liquid embodying all colors from the vortex seeped onto it. The collapse and destruction of the mausoleum and Morora slowed, and the vast wasteland haltingly stabilized, its descent into the void ceasing.

Lumian placed the strange dark-gold mask back over the vortex face, shielding the unseeable god and covering 0–01.

Above, grayish-white fog reappeared, with faint constellations shimmering in and out of view.

Starlight descended, merging with the strange mask and completing the basic sealing process.

Only 0–01 needed sealing, and only temporarily. There was no need to invoke the full power of Sefirah Castle as before.

The vortex face had ceased changing—blocking Its unique properties and concealing Its form sufficed.

When the mask was securely in place, the destruction of the mausoleum and Morora came to a complete stop. Parts of the city, already consumed by nothingness, began to repair. Collapsed buildings and rubble-strewn streets remained.

Once time and space stabilized, Lumian teleported away from the mountain of corpses.

Zedus and the other soldiers of 0–01 were sealed there, awaiting the day Lumian became the Red Priest to return to their ranks.

Lumian appeared on a relatively intact street in the City of Exiles, Morora. Surveying his surroundings, he broke into a smile.

High above, meteors streaked across the sky, blazing as they rained down upon the city.

Rumble!

Morora faced utter devastation. Its condemned prisoners finally met their apocalypse.

Amid the thick dust and smoke raised by the falling meteors, Lumian’s figure vanished.

…

Trier, inside the luxurious villa.

Lumian’s figure materialized in the center of the living room.

‘Did you get 0–01?’ Franca, who had been waiting, asked with both concern and curiosity.

Lumian chuckled. ‘An item that was already sealed? Wouldn’t it be easy?’

‘I doubt it was that simple. The Church of Knowledge couldn’t effectively use it; they could only seal it. You must have prepared extensively to succeed,’ Franca said skeptically.

Lumian sank into a single-seater sofa, looking at Franca, Anthony, and Ludwig.

‘A bit. First, I went to the Forsaken Land of the Gods and ‘visited’ the one worshiped by the Aurora Order.’

‘And then?’ Franca pressed.

Lumian chuckled. ‘Then I gave Him two punches.’

‘How is that preparation?’ Franca exclaimed, caught between shock and amusement.

He really went and punched Him twice?

One punch was even on behalf of Red Angel Medici.

Lumian responded with a smile, ‘Don’t ask about the rest.

‘Let’s just say that with the apex power of the two Calamity pathways, Zedus’s portion within me, Alista Tudor’s face, and the unique properties of this head, I passed 0–01’s trials and claimed this Grade 0 Sealed Artifact.’

As he spoke, Lumian flicked the strange dark-gold mask.

‘What about 0–01?’ Franca finally remembered to ask. ‘You didn’t accommodate it already, did you?’

‘Of course not,’ Lumian replied with amusement. ‘While many things no longer affect me, there’s one rule I must follow—or rather, something I must respect before completing what I set out to do.

‘I can’t disrupt the delicate balance of this body. If I were to accommodate 0–01 and Medici’s Conqueror characteristics now, the balance of yin and yang would shatter instantly, and I’ll be beyond saving. At that point, both the true gods and evil gods would have to face the monster They wouldn’t like to see.’

Franca was enlightened. ‘You’ll need to find Primordial Demoness Cheek first and acquire Her Uniqueness and Sequence 1 Beyonder characteristics.’

‘But the Primordial Demoness is still a true god, one that’s free to act. The other true gods likely can’t focus on dealing with Her,’ Anthony voiced his concern.

‘Don’t worry,’ Lumian said with a smile. ‘A destined messiah will lend a hand. For every sin committed, there’s an equal redemption to be made.’

‘A temporary dual-path true god, combined with you as a King of Angels and the Tarot Club’s Angels, does give us a shot,’ Franca said, sitting up straighter, a fiery determination lighting her lake-blue eyes. ‘Now the question is, how do we find Cheek?’

Lumian’s expression turned adrift, as though recalling something he deliberately avoided thinking about.

He smiled again. ‘Part of Cheek is within me. We share the strongest mystical connection. With it, we can ask Mr. Fool, the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, Queen Mystic, or Ma’am Hermit for effective prophecies or revelations.

‘And besides…’

He pulled out the Post-Apocalyptic Scripture from his Traveler’s Bag, laughing lightly.

‘Let’s see what kind of prophecy this damn book will offer.’

The ancient parchment book fluttered open in his hands.

When Lumian stopped flipping, silvery mercury-like words rapidly appeared on the exposed page: ‘Lumian Lee will encounter Primordial Demoness Cheek in the World of Ruin.’