The church members approached with reverent smiles, their robes glowing faintly as runes beneath their feet flared brighter in response.

One of them, a tall man whose every movement radiated gentle authority, lifted his hand. A beam of golden light enveloped Terry, cascading over him like a waterfall.

Riley's eyes flickered. Even from so far away, he could see the results.

The blood that had caked Terry's skin vanished as wounds sealed in an instant. His clothes, torn and ragged, seemed to shimmer faintly as though even the fabric resisted damage under the holy glow. The fatigue in Terry's shoulders lifted, replaced by vitality and strength.

The murmurs from his group reached Riley's sharpened senses. He focused, narrowing his attention until the words carried to him as clearly as if he stood among them.

"You've fought well and hard…" one of the robed healers said with admiration. "Few could endure such hardship and remain standing."

Another's voice followed, melodic and persuasive: "Your spirit is strong, your courage unshakable. But alone, such strength can only do so much. With us—with the Church of Light—you could wield your gifts for something far greater."

The words dripped with temptation, each syllable carefully woven to draw Terry in. "Imagine it. The Light guiding you, empowering you, ensuring that your will brings salvation to countless souls. With our blessing, there would be no obstacle you could not overcome."

The others nodded, their smiles unwavering. "Join us. Walk the path of purity and strength. The world needs heroes like you to lead the charge against the encroaching darkness."

What disturbed Riley most was not the honeyed tone of their words. It was Terry's reaction.

The blonde man did not scoff. He did not dismiss them. His aura, sharp and composed, remained steady, but there was no rejection in his eyes. If anything, there was contemplation. Openness. As if he was willing to at least consider the offer.

From his position, Riley's jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed deeply. The church of light… recruiting Terry? That's way too early.'

Already the world was diverging from the path he had known. The dungeon collapsing had been one devastating blow. And now this? If Terry aligned himself with the Church of Light, the ripples would be catastrophic.

Riley's eyes darkened as he kept his focus on the blonde figure in the distance, watching Terry's expression shift as the robed healers of the Church of Light spoke to him.

The murmurs around the square faded into nothing, drowned beneath the echo of his own thoughts.

'So… Terry's going to join the Church of Light earlier in this life.'

The thought struck him with the weight of inevitability.

He had always known that Terry's path would eventually lead to those holy halls, that at some point, the golden-haired warrior would become a chosen champion of their faith.

But seeing it unfold now—so soon, so far ahead of schedule—sent a cold ripple down Riley's spine.

He clenched his jaw.

In his past life, this had happened far later.

Back then, Terry had joined the church of light during the brutal war against demons.

Just like now, he was also invited, and he quickly accepted as he was finding new ways to get stronger. Only then did he receive the recognition of the Divine Goddess of Light herself.

Riley's expression hardened as memories resurfaced, fragments of a story he had once lived through from the shadows.

Terry, standing at the forefront of humanity's desperate struggle, his blonde hair gleaming beneath the sun as a radiant spear pulsed in his grip. The Divine Spear—Soulpiercer.

That weapon had not been forged by mortal hands. It was the blessing of the goddess herself, bestowed only upon one deemed worthy enough to carry her will.

In his past life, it had been Terry alone who proved himself worthy.

With Soulpiercer, he became the shining spearhead against the tides of darkness, his strikes cleaving through even the mightiest of demons.

And in the final clash, when the Demon Lord himself had descended, it had been that spear—gleaming with divine light—that pierced his defenses and turned the tide.

Riley's lips thinned. That was the only way Terry had been able to fight the demon lord on somewhat even grounds. The Demon Lord was too strong otherwise. Soulpiercer was the key. Without it… humanity would have been doomed far earlier.

But that event had been meant to unfold far later, deep into the war's blood-soaked future. Not now. Not here, in the fragile infancy of Apocalypse's beginning.

And yet, with the dungeon's collapse, the timeline had shifted. Events that should have come years from now were being dragged forward, reshaped, rewritten before Riley's very eyes.

His stomach twisted. 'If Terry joins them now… what else will change?'

The thought gnawed at him like a relentless parasite. The foundation of his rebirth—his advantage—had been his knowledge of what was to come, the ability to maneuver through events like a man who already knew the ending to a story. But now? Now the story was no longer the same. The pages were being rewritten in ink he did not recognize.

Riley exhaled slowly, a long breath that misted faintly in the cool city air. His gaze drifted away from Terry, sliding across the city until it landed on the massive structure dominating the horizon.

The Church of Light.

The building was colossal, its white walls gleaming as if untouched by time, unmarred by war or weather.

Its spires climbed high into the sky, catching the sun's rays and scattering them like prisms, casting fractured light across the streets below.

At its peak stood a holy cross wrought of pure gold, shining so brightly that it almost seemed to glow with its own divine radiance.

A strange glint flickered in Riley's eyes as he studied the structure. Not awe. Not reverence. Something colder, sharper—like a blade catching the light.

The Goddess of Light…

Among the countless divine beings that had watched humanity's struggle from their distant thrones, she had been one of the few who had chosen to stand with mortals against the encroaching darkness.

While others cowered in their divine realms, content to let humanity burn, she alone had offered her strength, her champions, her blessings.

And Riley knew why.

The other gods… they were terrified.

The Demon Lord's might was not the kind that mortals alone feared.

Even the gods themselves, beings who ruled over countless domains and wielded powers beyond comprehension, had recoiled before him.

His shadow stretched into their heavens, and many quaked beneath it.

Some had gone further still. Some had bent the knee, submitting to his dominion, hoping to preserve their own lives and domains by surrendering their pride.

Others had slunk into silence, refusing to involve themselves in mortal affairs, steering their worshippers away from the war, all to avoid attracting his gaze.

Only a handful had stood firm. Only a handful had dared to oppose him.

The Goddess of Light had been chief among them. Her brilliance had not dimmed in the face of fear. She had stood as a beacon when the heavens themselves faltered, and through her, humanity had been given a fighting chance.

Riley's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. And Terry had been her chosen.

He dragged his gaze away from the towering cathedral, forcing his attention elsewhere. Across the city square, slightly overshadowed by the grandiosity of the Church of Light, another building rose.

It was shorter, humbler, its walls lacking the same gleaming polish. Yet it was no less important. The second church stood like a silent sentinel, its darker stone etched with muted silver designs.

It did not radiate warmth or brilliance. Instead, its aura was heavier, older, as if it had been carved from the bones of the earth itself.

Riley's eyes lingered on it, his expression unreadable.

"The church of fire…" he muttered, his face squeezing into a frown.

The words tasted bitter, venomous, as if speaking them alone was enough to scorch his tongue.

Riley's eyes flashed with a cold light as he stared at it, and his teeth ground together. 'The god of fire… one of the many gods who submitted to the Demon Lord.'

Until recently, those words would have carried only vague bitterness for him.

He had always known, from his past life, that the god of fire had betrayed humanity during the war, bending the knee before the overwhelming might of the Demon Lord to preserve his divine flame. But now? Now Riley understood the betrayal went much deeper.

He clenched his fists, the memories he had stolen from Juer'lo resurfacing in vivid detail. A flood of images, conversations, whispers in the dark—all now laid bare to him.

For so long, he had wondered how the demons had managed to infiltrate [Apocalypse].

It should hava been impossible from the start. Safeguards had been built into every aspect of it. The balance of the game, the systems, the dungeons—everything had been sealed tight, monitored. There should have been no way for demons to slip inside.

And yet, they had, quite easily at that.

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