I am the Pope in the Western Fantasy World

The boat came closer and closer and stopped at the shore.

Phil Gray wanted to retreat and hide, but found that he could not move. He looked around and saw that some people had appeared here. Judging from their clothes, they were local residents. They were also looking at the boat in horror, unable to move.

It seemed like something came down from the boat. The reason I called it a thing was because it was a skeleton with a pale frame and faint blue fire burning in its eye sockets. The bone swords in their hands reflected the cold moonlight, which made people feel a chill in their hearts.

Skeletons got off the boat one after another. The weird thing was how could such a small boat accommodate so many skeletons?

However, Phil Graydo didn't have time to think, as the skeletons raised their bone swords and began to slaughter the people around him indiscriminately.

They were unable to move or resist, and Phil Gray could even feel the sticky blood splattering on his face.

He tried to mobilize the divine power in his body, but it was as still as stagnant water.

Phil Gray watched the bone sword coming towards him and couldn't help but scream, but no sound came out of his mouth.

He closed his eyes, but felt his wrist getting slightly warm, and did not feel the subsequent pain.

He opened his eyes and looked at his wrist. The sun mark of the Dawn Cult was glowing, and the skeletons in front of him disappeared like ashes.

what happened?

He sat up suddenly, exhaled deeply, looked around, and found himself still sitting on the bed in the moonlight shining through the glass.

I calmed down a little. Was it just a dream?

Phil Gray exhaled and looked out the window. The harbor was calm and the moon was reflected on the River Lunsey. It was quiet and peaceful.

But this dream was too real. The panic and depression made him lose all desire to sleep.

He touched his wrist again and found that the sun mark was indeed heating up.

This is definitely not a simple dream.

Dream Cult or Church of the Dead?

Phil Gray couldn't sleep for a while, so he went downstairs and planned to go out for a walk.

When I walked out of the hotel, there was no one outside. The whole port of Lunsi seemed to be asleep. Even the lights of the surrounding shops were turned off. This didn't seem to match the style of the Dark Parish. Shouldn't they be more lively at night?

He strolled to the river bank, looked at the calm water, and felt much better.

Wait, what is that?

He saw a figure dragging something in a hurry on the river bank ahead.

He walked up quietly and finally saw clearly that the man was carrying a woman on his back and dragging another person in his hand.

I couldn't see their faces clearly and didn't know whether they were dead or alive.

The man blew a whistle, and soon a small boat came towards him, and he was about to throw the two women onto the boat.

At this moment, he glanced around vigilantly, and then his eyes met Phil Gray's.

Although his face was wrapped in black cloth, Phil Gray could imagine his expression of surprise and ferocity.

Oh no, he was discovered. He felt embarrassed and wanted to run away.

The man casually threw away the burden on his body, and his right hand turned into a sharp claw and attacked Phil Gray.

Phil Gray threw the Flying Blade of Destiny with quick eyes and hands. The man was quite agile, and the blade only scratched his cheek and cut the black cloth, but did not reveal his face.

"Help!!!" Phil Gray shouted loudly, his voice was so penetrating that it seemed to be able to awaken the sleeping Port of London, while he was dodging the man's claws.

Since he wanted to deal with the two women secretly, he must be afraid of being seen by others, so it would be absolutely right for him to call someone over himself.

The man's eyes became more ferocious and his attacks became more fierce.

Fortunately, the bad luck buff of the Fate Blade took effect. His feet paused and his left foot tripped over his right foot.

Taking advantage of this moment, Phil Gray put on white gloves, and the flames of the Sun Sword illuminated the darkness.

"Someone come! Catch him!" He kept waving the sword in his hand and shouting.

"Damn it!" The man attacked with gnashing teeth. Both of his hands turned into green monster claws, dripping with sticky liquid, and his movements became faster.

But in the face of God's downgraded swordsmanship, he was quickly defeated and struggled to hold on.

Phil Gray still frowned. There were supposed to be several thousand residents living around the port of Lunci. How was it possible that he had been shouting for such a long time and no one showed up?

But soon he saw a house on the street light up.

"No!" The man realized that he was no match for him and was afraid of being seen by more people, so pink smoke suddenly flashed in his hand, forming a wall of smoke between him and Phil Gray, and then he jumped onto the boat and ran away.

Was it poison? Phil Gray held his breath as he watched the pink smoke spread.

The man rowed the boat and sailed away into the distance.

Phil Gray was a little annoyed that he couldn't catch up. He kept condensing flying blades of destiny in his hands and threw them at the ship that was getting farther and farther away.

The boat shook slightly, but still went away and disappeared from his sight.

He didn't know if the strange dream he just had had any connection with the person who attacked him. Phil Gray thought as he walked. It was really too quiet along the way, as if everyone except him and the masked man was fast asleep.

After getting to the hotel, he walked to Patrick's door and knocked.

There was no movement.

He knocked again and frowned slightly, but it seemed not a good idea to wake up his cousin so late at night. Thinking of this, he turned around and prepared to leave.

The door suddenly opened and he saw Patrick breathing heavily.

"Cousin, what happened?"

"Did you sleep well?" Phil Gray felt like he was sick again. He woke someone up to ask him if he slept well, and coughed awkwardly.

"Oh no, cousin, I dreamed that I was killed over and over again by a bunch of skeletons. My neck hurts so much. Can you see if it left any marks? No, it was all a dream." Patrick touched his neck puzzledly, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found that his neck was still intact.

"Oh? You also dreamed of skeletons? Were they the skeletons that came down from the ship in London Port?" Phil Gray asked in a deep voice.

"Yes."

The two of them described their dreams in detail and found that the scenes in their dreams were exactly the same, except that Phil Gray woke up from his dream because of the Mark of the Sun and did not feel the feeling of being killed by the skeletons in his dream.

"Was it done by the Dream Cult?" Phil Gray looked solemn.

"But the undead skeleton reminds me of the followers of the god of death." Patrick touched his neck, a little confused.

After staring at each other in silence for a while, they woke up the others.

Eli and Ernest also looked exhausted.

"Well, it feels like sleeping and fighting." Eli rubbed his arm. "But to construct the same dream and pull so many God-favored people into the dream, the mastermind behind this must be very powerful."

Ernest broke out in a cold sweat. "It was definitely done by the Dream Cult."

"We are probably not the only ones who are in a dream. I feel like many people here are in a deep sleep." Phil Gray told them what happened after he went out.

"What if everyone in this port falls into a deep sleep and can't wake up? Should we wake them up one by one?" Patrick asked.

"Wait a little longer, we can't be the only ones awake. Isn't the person who escaped awake as well? And if the worst case scenario is that he died in his dream, it will be too late even if we wake him up one by one." Phil Gray looked out the window.

He shouted so loudly in the port that only one house lit up.

The room fell into silence for a moment, and worry rose in everyone's heart.