As Charles gazed upon the steamboats nearly filling the entire sea surface and the devotees lined up neatly on the decks,
a shiver surged through his heart. Instinct told him that something momentous, something truly terrifying, was about to happen.
He didn't know what the Pope would do next, but his mind was completely occupied with how to stop this charlatan, who had already sacrificed over ten million people to summon the Feast-Goer; this was definitely no small matter.
Charles turned his head to look around. Four types of sacrifices quietly rested in concentric circles, but at the center of the circles there was a massive rope as thick as a giant tree, a peculiar rope woven from blood and flesh, light and shadow.
The immense rope, taut and straight, lay on the floor and stretched into the sea, slowly pulling back as if it were dragging something.
