Vile Evil Hides Under The Veil-Chapter 1973: God Raashim’s True Descent

Shir stood above the crowd, his sharp eyes sweeping over the sea of Templars below.

Their faces were flushed with emotion—rage, devotion, purpose.

He knew he had to act fast.

The passion in the air was strong now, but it wouldn't last forever. If he waited too long, the crowd's zeal would fade. Doubt could settle in. And if their willingness to sacrifice themselves wavered, even for a moment, the ritual could fail.

If the ritual didn't go as planned, it would make it harder—maybe even impossible—for his original self, God Raashim, to maintain the link between his Immortal Domain and the mortal realm of Baga Island.

Shir turned to his immediate subordinates and gave a sharp nod.

"Begin," he said. "Use everything we've prepared. Do it now."

His orders were clear. There was no room for hesitation.

The trusted followers around him moved quickly. Although some hesitated to kill their own fellow Templars, it didn't look like they had a choice.

They pulled out glowing artifacts, formation disks, and old relics that had been prepared beforehand after Shir's awakening from his forceful slumber.

All of the items radiated a mana pulse that was at least beyond A-Rank. Some S-Rank items were also used. What was lacking in terms of quality was made up for by supplying enough quantity.

Working in sync, Shir's subordinates placed the disks and artifacts in carefully marked spots across the ground. Soon, a massive formation began to take shape.

A giant magic circle spread across the battlefield like a blooming flower, intricate lines of mana connecting one piece to the next.

At the center of it all, the altar finally completed its final phase.

It glowed brightly, pulsing with divine power. The runes carved into its surface lit up in a deep ocean blue, connecting to the giant magic circle like rivers flowing into the sea.

Shir flew above the formation, watching the progress with satisfaction.

From the air, the sacrificial formation looked beautiful—elegant, massive, and terrifying. The divine energy rising from the altar also became palpable. It filled the air like mist before a storm.

He hovered in the center and looked off into the distance.

His eyes locked onto Eren's position.

Then a cold, ruthless smile spread across his face.

He clenched his fists and raised one hand slowly, making a simple gesture to his team below.

The ritual began.

God Raashim, the sea god, answered the call.

A ghostly sea appeared around the circle. It shimmered with pale blue light, as if made from energy and water combined. It didn't splash or move.

Instead, it slowly rose and spread, swallowing all those who stood within the circle—every loyal follower who had shouted for sacrifice just minutes ago.

They didn't scream. At least not at first.

But as the sea wrapped around them, it started to pull the life essence out of their bodies. Their skin withered. Their eyes turned pale. Their breaths faded.

One by one, they fell where they stood, their bodies drying into lifeless mummies.

The ritual had begun and it was demanding a price.

And Shir was ready to pay it without hesitation.

Nearly a third of all his followers on or near Baga Island were about to be dead in an instant—sacrificed willingly, with devotion. He was set to erase 30 percent of God Raashim's total fighting force in one move.

The remaining 70 percent—the mortals, the low-level practitioners, the women and children—stood in the background, watching the ritual unfold.

They had not been included in the sacrifice. Not because Shir was warm-hearted or God Raashim cared for his weaker followers. But because the sacirificial energy generated from this lot wouldn't make that much of a difference.

In short, Shir had only spared the "working bees" of his nest that was the Raashim Temple. Keeping them alive was more lucrative for him than killing them in a sacrifice.

Of course, the followers not selected for the sacrificial ritual were not aware of subtle details. But they understood something that shook their faith to the core.

They watched in horror as their friends, their neighbors, and their leaders were consumed by the sea of divine energy. They saw what it meant to give your life for God Raashim.

And they were terrified.

Some fell to their knees in shock. Others backed away, their faces pale. They had worshipped Raashim their entire lives. Believed he was their savior, their protector.

But now?

Now he looked like a hungry god who didn't care who died—as long as his will was done.

Was worshipping such a god worth it? One by one, the survivors started questioning their faiths.

Shir didn't look at them.

He kept his eyes on the altar, the circle, and the energy rising like a storm around him.

He had made his choice. And there was no going back.

The air over the altar grew heavy, thick with divine energy. The runes covering the altar blazed with light, their glow reaching far into the sky.

The ritual chanting had stopped.

The screams of the dying had faded. Almost half of the sacrificial followers had already died. The remaining were in no condition to utter a word. In the end, there wouldn't be any survivor among the sacrifices.

All that remained now was silence—deep and powerful.

And then, it happened.

Two massive gates appeared above the altar, slowly forming out of thin air. They were tall enough to touch the clouds, made of a strange material that looked like a mix of water and crystal.

Waves of energy rippled through the air as the gates shimmered in place, pulsing like a heartbeat.

More and more sacrificial followers dropped to the ground. Their bodies shriveled and dry, their souls already offered to the ritual. The ethereal sea summoned by the magic circle continued to swirl calmly, consuming them one by one.

Shir looked up at the sky and felt a jolt of pure joy.

The gates were here.

"It's real," he whispered to himself, his eyes wide.

"Hahahah. Looks like Goddess Two Lips really did allow us to open our Immortal Domain here. With the witch goddess' blessing, everything becomes easier.

Eren oh Eren…. Your luck is really bad. Looks like you've really offended the witch goddess. She couldn't have agreed to God Raashim's request so early otherwise."

He lowered himself gently, landing on the edge of the altar. Then, without a word, he dropped to his knees, bowing his head toward the gates above.

As if responding to his submission, the altar flared with brighter light. The runes burned in a deep ocean blue. Water-element Attainments from all around the island surged toward the altar, wrapping around it like rivers seeking the ocean.

The ground shook. The skies dimmed. The wind stopped moving.

It was as if Baga Island itself had become part of the sea.

The ritual had reached its final stage.

Then the gates began to open.

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Slowly.

A deep rumble echoed across the land. As the gates parted, a massive pressure spilled out from within.

It rushed in all directions like a tidal wave, not just pressing down on the body, but digging deep into the soul.

Everyone—man, woman, demon, or Templar—felt it.

It was the weight of something that didn't belong in Labh Salem. Something divine.

The gates fully opened, revealing what lay beyond.

Floating in a void of swirling colors, a small island came into view.

Or at least, it looked small at first glance.

But the longer one stared at it, the larger it seemed—until it felt as though it was bigger than all the continents of Labh Salem combined. Some even felt it was as large as Labh Salem itself.

It wasn't an ordinary island.

It pulsed with strange energies that weren't strictly mana. These forces wrapped around the island like curtains of light. It glowed with both sunlight and moonlight at once, casting an otherworldly shine that was beautiful and terrifying.

Those who saw it couldn't look away. Their hearts yearned for it. It was instinct—a deep whisper in their minds, telling them that this island was no longer part of the mortal world.

It was a place beyond death. A place where one could leave mortality behind.

But the island stayed in the distance.

What came through the gates was something else entirely.

A man stepped out.

He looked to be in his middle years, tall and strong, with sharp eyes and a commanding face.

His features closely resembled Shir's, but his presence was far more intense. Divine energy rolled off him in waves. He wore royal robes that shimmered like flowing water and armor made of something that looked like living silver.

This was no mortal.

This was God Raashim.

And what had just occurred was no mere projection or blessing.

It was his True Descent—his real Spirit Body had arrived in Labh Salem.

He had really dared to perform a True Descent as his opponent was far from being an Immortal like him.

The god of the sea had come.