When the plot-skips players into the game world

Chapter 867: Chapter 242 Jacob and Cardinal Loki Chapter 867: Chapter 242 Jacob and Cardinal Loki Several old elves were discussing, and their voices grew louder.

An elf prisoner wearing glowing triangular shackles passed by with a lunchbox, curiously glancing over before realizing today was the election day for the Pope: “Is it already March 3rd?”

One of the wardens glanced at him, saying impatiently, “Yeah, have you finished the twenty batches of Origin of Life potions you were assigned the day before yesterday?”

“I finished, finished…

about to submit them…”

“Forget it, Guramance.”

Another old elf advised, “Today is a good day, let’s give them a half-day off.”

Meanwhile, the passing prisoner leaned closer, looking at the screen, and curiously asked, “Is this…

a human Pope?

When did humans have Cardinals?”

“—What, a human Pope?”

A nearby human prisoner carrying food overheard and immediately perked up, running over to join in the commotion: “Is there an amnesty?

Do we get an amnesty?”

Suddenly, many human, avianfolk, and goblin prisoners heard the news and also wanted to come over to check the news about the new Pope.

“It’s none of your business, go back and eat!”

A young warden shouted fiercely, swinging a light whip to drive everyone back.

But the whip didn’t actually hit anyone, just cracking in the air.

So, the prisoners weren’t too afraid and giggled as they backed away.

The other wardens didn’t lose their temper, merely sipping tea and chuckling as they watched him drive people away.

They leisurely discussed, “Having a human as Pope isn’t bad.

Besides, he is from Avalon…

Avalon is also considered our territory, right?”

“Right, Avalonians are one of us.”

“I personally think Cardinal Galatea is also good, as she is also from the Relic Restoration Assembly.

But I still support Cardinal Matilda more.”

“That’s unlikely, Cardinal Matilda and Her Holiness the Saintess have a good relationship.

She would definitely give her vote to the Holy Maiden.”

“Yes, it would be best for the Saintess to be elected Pope…”

The centuries-old elves whispered thus.

In a corner of this floor, in a place more heavily guarded and more secluded,

a young human dressed in a linen robe, with glowing shackles on his hands and feet, and covered in silver glowing runes, sat quietly next to a dining table.

He had red hair—it was the vampire writer Bram Stoker.

He looked thinner than before but seemed more spirited.

And at that moment, on his table, there lay a bottle of high-quality Star Antimony produced red wine.

This was something that normally wouldn’t be provided to a prisoner.

Because the person who brought it had sneaked in silently.

“How about it, Bram?”

Jacob smiled, finished the barley tea on Bram’s table, and then poured him a glass of red wine, “How’s life here?”

“To be honest,”

Bram, while twirling spaghetti bolognese with his fork, said, “Even the prisoners in the Holy Nation eat better than the Avalonians—by an incalculable margin.

“If those jobless pickpockets in Glass Island knew about the treatment of pickpockets here, they’d probably row boats to come over.”

On his table was a serving of tomato bolognese, a three-vegetable oil-immersed salad.@@novelbin@@

This was not special food provided because of his status, but the standard prisoner meal—they could even choose from tomato bolognese, meat pies, or sugar pies, lamb stewed rice, along with a vegetable salad or mixed stew.

In terms of food quality, it was indeed much better than the ordinary Avalonian.

He held in his hand a shining silver fork.

The Holy Nation wasn’t worried about prisoners harming themselves or each other, nor was there a chance to escape—the runes could control the prisoners anytime, making them inherently unable to perform or even think of certain actions.

Compared to Avalon’s Authority Spell, the divine rites of the Authority from the Holy Nation were milder yet much harder to resist.

“Oh?”

Jacob said with a smile: “Is that so…

“…

Then compared to the taste of human blood and flesh, which would be better?”

“If possible,” the vampire writer Bram did not look up at Jacob, but his voice gradually mixed with a deep tone, “I would prefer…

to eat your flesh and drink your blood.”

“——Jacob Alexander.

My old friend.”

The next moment, a glowing humanoid creature suddenly appeared behind Jacob.

An intense oppressive feeling, a sense of divine authority, made Bram abruptly lift his head to look at it.

In an instant, he was drenched in sweat.

“Do not act rashly, ‘Aiwass’.”

Jacob said leisurely: “It’s just a scare.”

[But he said he wants to kill you]

A voice resembling a somewhat aggrieved, mechanically synthesized noise rang out.

“…Is this the benefit you earn from being a dog for the Serpent Celestial Marshal?”

“Bram” said sarcastically: “Lord Angel Envoy?”

He lifted his head, his pupils turning into fiery infernos.

That originally sharp and arrogant voice of Bram became deep and magnetic, completely mismatching his delicate appearance now.

“You’re misunderstanding me, Cardinal Loki.”

Jacob leisurely said: “‘Aiwass’ is something I made during my lifetime… but I only activated it after my death.”

“‘Aiwass’…

Hah.

The thing shares the same name as your grandson.

Is it made from his soul fragments, a Swampfolk?”

“Merely scraps.”

Jacob smiled slightly, pushing his monocle.

His youthful appearance made him seem like he had returned to the past, becoming that journalist again.

“…Scraps?

Whose scraps?”

“Aren’t you supposed to know?

All-knowing Cardinal Loki…

naturally, it’s the remnants used to make ‘Aiwass’.

I was given some raw materials from above, but I managed to create Aiwass using only a part of them.

The remaining part…

I can’t just return it.”

Jacob said with a smile: “In our human terms, this is called ‘yield loss’.

This scrap is mine.”

“Hmph.”

“Bram” scoffed, noncommittally.

He gradually stepped back, transforming back into Bram.

“Don’t hurry off.”

Jacob spoke, boasting gently: “Did you know?

My grandson became the Pope.”

“Oh, I could guess.”

“Bram” paused, lifting his head again, his pupils reflecting a sea of flames again.

Only his smile was mocking: “Or perhaps, that was also one of my contingency plans.”

“Mmm, I know.

Whether it’s you becoming the Pope, or you being destroyed by Aiwass…

whether alive or dead, you always manage to go with the flow and reap some benefits.

Truly, it’s quite the Moriarty-style of scheming,” Jacob said cheerily.

“You’re wrong, Jacob.

He learned it from me.

Since when do fathers act like their sons?” a small fragment of Loki’s consciousness hidden inside “Bram” said coldly.

“Oh?”

Jacob smiled slightly: “Are you really sure, this is your plan?

“Could there be a possibility… that all of this is Moriarty’s layout?

From the beginning, you didn’t have ‘that many choices’.

That future filled with countless possibilities had been narrowed down to only one possibility by the time Aiwass arrived.

“All of this is inevitable.

“Just like I would appear here, and you…”

Jacob laughed, reaching out to grab the shimmering silver fork in “Bram’s” hand, allowing his own skin to be pierced.

“—will serve me.

“Taste it, this is the sacrament… This is mercy.”