Chapter 6

Joanna Smith is looking up at me.

Through her gaze, her breath, her heart—I can see the world.

In other words, the live service has begun!

Until now, I’ve been surviving by watching tons of broken streams and barely finding a few decent ones. But this? A live service—it’s groundbreaking tech!

I’m overwhelmed, and so is she as she looks at me, marveling at the miracle happening in her body. Joanna’s snow-white hair practically radiates an absurd amount of bliss.

Ah, you know this much, huh?

It’s different from just observing a game character. Instead of viewing through a screen, there’s a tangible sense of feeling—enough to grasp emotions at least.

But no, I still can’t read her exact thoughts. Unfortunately, minds don’t output logically like in manga.

Or maybe they do, but I just can’t access it yet.

I turn my head and look at Hieronymus.

Fear, curiosity, and a whirlwind of emotions emanate from him, but overall, he seems surprised by the current situation.

“I’ve seen enough.”

“So be it. We thank you for your blessing.”

Hieronymus stands slightly apart, watching what Joanna Smith will do next, ready to act if anything happens.

He’s not just some random cult leader, clearly. According to Joanna’s memories, this guy wasn’t even a cult leader way back when.

Back then, it was more like a loose-knit group with no proper leadership. That changed when he arrived.

Joanna estimates that this man appeared around ten years ago, but I think it might have been earlier—he likely turned this obscure sect into a full-blown cult sometime before that.

For instance, 30 years ago to 13 years ago, no one wore strange patterned robes or masks. Only after did ranks start appearing.

Around 13 years ago, hints of his influence began showing up in Joanna’s fragmented recollections.

The decentralized network transformed into a pyramid structure.

And another thing…

This sect predates him. From what he’s learned, its origins are closer to primitive shamanism.

I know this guy is powerful.

He’s currently the top of this religious organization, and gaining warmth requires careful judgment. How should I communicate with this man named Hieronymus?

While pondering this, Hieronymus alternates glances between me and Joanna, telling her it’s time to go back.

After calling twice and adding that I shouldn’t be disturbed, Joanna hastily rises, bows repeatedly to me, and leaves with him.

Now I’m alone again.

Is it safe to leave something this dangerous unattended? But this place… deep underground…

Since I don’t really care about the organization, it could collapse at any moment.

Joanna, being one of the original members, was allowed entry here.

Even restricted areas need janitors or people to handle menial tasks like cleaning and cooking.

Who would climb all the way back down to do such work once they’ve reached the upper echelons?

There needs to be someone to delegate these tasks to.

That’s Joanna’s role.

Outside, Hieronymus carefully interviews Joanna while she feels uneasy.

Why does this guy keep talking to me?

Though I can’t fully grasp her exact thoughts, I can detect confusion, bewilderment, joy, and fulfillment swirling together. If I pick out the strongest emotion, this is probably what she’s thinking.

Why is he being so cautious?

Ah, I get it now.

At the location where he summoned me, a boy who had been contaminated or polluted transformed into something monstrous, shooting and killing others who also ended up mutating.

At the time, I was confused, but Hieronymus understood better than me.

Maybe I shouldn’t show too much intelligence.

A dumb kid with immense strength is easier to mock and control.

If I appear trusting, I can be used for a long time. For now, let’s keep it like that.

As I observe him, he might be observing me too. Leaving me alone here likely means there’s something reassuring about the situation.

While Hieronymus questions Joanna about her transformation, I walk toward the center of the altar.

Standing on the highest point, I look down.

The seats radiate outward in a circular design, subtly elevating my position.

It’s designed to make everyone look up. Looking back, I notice a light source behind me.

Simple but effective design.

From up here, everything is perfectly visible. There doesn’t seem to be anything unusual besides that. Hidden cameras or people lurking around? None visible.

Of course, in a world where magic and curses exist, invisible surveillance isn’t out of the question. I felt ominous energy from arrows earlier, and something restrained me when my head almost flew off.

Until I touched that boy’s light and stole his warmth, though.

Could that have healed my injuries?

Maybe maintaining this body requires warmth. In that case, eating properly should be considered. Basic needs must be met.

Speaking of clothing, why hasn’t anyone mentioned that I’m naked?

No one thinks to clothe me?

While contemplating this, I look down and realize my front is caked with dried blood. It makes me look like some grotesque demon from a game.

Definitely not ideal. Is there a way to clean myself? No water nearby.

Can I use myself somehow?

I possess power. When I touch someone, they transform drastically—sometimes even changing species. Could I try something similar?

Let me release just a tiny bit of myself into a vessel.

Compressing it tightly, I stretch it thin like sunlight filtering through fingers.

Huh.

A dark purple mist flows out of my body.

Oh, and here’s something interesting.

Hieronymus quickly turns his head toward me. He was definitely keeping an eye on me.

After calming Joanna, he leads her into a room, handing over clothes and masks corresponding to the third rank. His movements seem hurried.

How amusing.

Joanna appears thrilled, but Hieronymus’ gaze drifts into empty space—as if looking directly at me.

Where exactly is he looking?

He inspects the dark purple mist seeping from the cracks in my body.

So, does this belong to me? If so, or even if not, can it become clothing?

It’s an experiment. Let’s hope for Rebecca Rolfe’s most comfortable outfit.

Hmm.

It worked!

The dark purple mist flows back into my body, transforming into soft pajamas! Not modified either—exactly the white-and-pink ensemble Rebecca used to wear.

Though, requesting her most comfortable clothing resulted in pajamas. Isn’t that a bit excessive?

Look.

Even Hieronymus, who was secretly observing me with some special ability, seems bewildered now.

But at least the sticky mix of blood and bodily fluids is gone, and I’ve gained warm, cozy attire.

Still, the cold lingers.

If the problem isn’t the clothes, then it’s probably me. Physical warmth won’t suffice.

I wonder how I’d fare in a desert, but we’ll test that later. For now, let’s act like a child.

I curl up on the altar and pretend to sleep.

Though I’m not actually tired.

This body belonging to the girl Rebecca Rolfe needs rest.

Does she have a soul? Unclear. When she came, there was no light, no warmth—just extracted memories from her brain.

Closing my eyes, I curl up. Despite the inconvenient chest size, I can fake sleeping.

Meanwhile, I focus my remaining senses on Joanna.

***

Hieronymus lets out a sigh of relief internally.

An overwhelming presence erupted from where he had placed that thing. It wasn’t magic or the primal force behind curses.

An unknown power.

What certain genre-savvy wizards call interdimensional or void energy—the stuff beyond our world.

Something infused that power into the girl’s body.

There are gods in this world. Hieronymus, whose real name is Jeongha, knows this. Though these “gods” aren’t omnipotent beings.

They’re incredibly powerful entities far beyond ordinary lifeforms. Some he’s deemed worthy of extermination—and killed.

Weapons wielded by warrior-priests were specifically crafted to combat such beings.

Yet he survived their attacks.

Well, considering how the thing is now creating clothes and sleeping, perhaps it sustained significant damage. He decides to prepare further while glancing at Joanna Smith.

The originally frail, elderly woman is nowhere to be seen. Her appearance now resembles someone in their early twenties—or even late teens. The only issue is her skin tone, which has turned nearly dark purple. Given the nature of the entity granting her power, this outcome could’ve been far worse.

Recall how those initially affected by it weren’t human anymore.

Walking here while conversing revealed mental distortions within her as well.

Originally, she was mentally shattered, conditioned to passively follow orders, find joy in obedience, and expect nothing more. Essentially, a worker trained by the cult.

But the person before him now is different. She no longer flinches at commands.

True, some people change dramatically upon feeling chosen by a religion.

However, this Joanna lacks any sense of pride in being selected as special. She simply believes her body was miraculously healed.

Yet now, a strong sense of self-esteem radiates from her. Perhaps this is due to the influence of whatever wears Rebecca Rolfe’s skin.

Jeongha still doesn’t understand what this “warmth” the entity talks about truly means. He thought it was some monster consuming people. So he brought this woman to it.

It didn’t devour her.

Rather, it was more like a gift.

His extensive experience tells him this gift is far from benevolent.

The insatiable hunger expressed in the face of whoever wears Rebecca Rolfe’s skin mirrors the eternal emptiness associated with the god known as Cruxshibal.

Then Jeongha chuckled inwardly.

Cruxshibal.

A name he created himself, filled with hatred and resentment because no one knows the true identity of the deity he worships.

Combining scraps of wizard knowledge he stumbled upon with the image of salvation for the downtrodden, he molded the current form of his cult.

Perhaps… the real nameless one has arrived.

If so, that works too.

If revenge is possible, he’ll use it.

First, he’ll assess how much Joanna has changed since becoming one of these altered humans. If they prove powerful, this so-called “blessing” could enhance his status.

It could also serve as a blade to strike directly against his enemies.

Thus, wearing the guise of Hieronymus, pretending to be a benevolent religious leader, he elevated Joanna’s rank and assigned her a task.

As she happily smiles and bids farewell, Jeongha moves toward the room where something called Rebecca Rolfe sleeps.

---