Chapter 12

I pulled my hand back when I noticed the fine hairs on that girl’s face standing up. Wild animals take whatever food is given, but they gotta stay sensitive to their surroundings.

While backing away, my eyes lingered on the oversized cane that looked out of place in her tiny hands—it was sticky with some weird energy. It felt kinda similar to the residue on the weapons used by Future Hope Church warriors, but there was a subtle difference. Their standard gear feels rougher, while this one’s got a clingy vibe.

But honestly, neither appeals to me.

You’d think in a fantasy world someone around here would know about magic, right? But Cheki and Patricia, who were raised as warriors of faith from the start, don’t have much knowledge about it.

The person standing before me probably knows more, though.

Still, patience is key. You gotta wait for the right moment. Warmth comes through perseverance.

So, I returned to my spot. The beast is safe where it belongs.

If you don’t give warmth, there’ll be protests! Democratic citizens can go as far as guillotines, but since no one here owns themselves, what can you do?

“Do you have any other questions?”

At my question, she hesitated before pulling the cloth draped over her head further down to cover most of her face.

“Aha… ah… no. That’s enough. Now that I know your identity, I’ll withdraw. This witch has seen enough.”

With that, she walked toward the door, keeping an eye on me the whole time.

This mysterious figure—whether truly a girl or just appearing as one—is among the four within the circle. One of the highest-ranking individuals.

Are these the Four Heavenly Kings?

Let’s tentatively call them high-ranking officials since not all members may always be present.

Someday, I want to turn them into something like Joanna.

When I turned around, Joanna was looking at me with a fearful expression.

Hmm?

Did I come off as scary somehow? I told her everything she wanted to know, even expressed gratitude for bringing me into this world. They pulled me out of endless stagnation, after all.

There’s no bad person in this equation—I’ve been expressing my gratitude clearly. Maybe I should’ve been more straightforward?

I thought showing too much of my underbelly might make things overly simple. I can’t read minds, after all.

Joanna had merely been watching our exchange, so I only know at which point she started feeling afraid.

Her heart raced intensely, suggesting excitement. But considering the sympathetic nervous system, maybe it wasn’t fear at all.

It started when that girl muttered under her breath, “What have we done?” That’s when Joanna seemed uneasy.

Could she empathize with the fear directed toward me?

Not sure.

Then again, what can I do if I don’t know? Ask, obviously.

“Joanna, am I frightening to you?”

At my question, her heartbeat quickened. No, I won’t eat you! When I explained and thanked her for bringing me here, she didn’t seem scared. But during the event, she must’ve felt fear.

She hesitated greatly.

Well, if you ask, “Does your master scare you? Why?” it could sound like, “Is this person going to dunk me?” But I haven’t shown authority yet. Perhaps being higher up just makes her uncomfortable.

Endure.

My curiosity takes precedence.

I stared silently until she finally met my gaze, despite my darkened irises shifting restlessly.

“Because I barely understood who Rebecca is.”

“That so? I’m just stagnant water. Like a sea beneath an eternal night sky, quietly observing stars being born.”

Oh, now that I think about it, if I descend again, there’s a chance I’ll find offspring waiting for me. Yesterday, when I absorbed warmth, the victim mutated and spilled blue blood upon death. It reminded me of when light fell into me.

If I go back, I might get erased. Empty spaces in the wild are eventually claimed anyway.

Thus, I need to strive optimally in this world.

Wild animals are intimidating, whether carnivores or herbivores—they’re capable of attacking.

People dislike what they dislike. At least they preemptively exterminate threats.

Maybe I should’ve made myself more pet-like instead. If I acted cute like a cat, I could cultivate specific animal enthusiasts easily. But Rebecca Rolfe isn’t that naive young girl.

This way, my head might grow threefold despite my small stature.

Or maybe I won’t grow because I’m already dead.

Half-hearted threats aren’t worth crushing unless they’re either too dangerous to tolerate or completely harmless.

Dangerous isn’t possible. What am I supposed to accomplish with this body? Barely leading a group of ten or so companions before sinking back into obscurity.

If luck’s bad, I might vanish even from the bottom.

That said, getting warmth would be nice. I already planned to create a harvester!

Being less threatening seems better.

“This body came in, followed instructions diligently. Why fear me?”

Joanna didn’t answer my question. She swallowed hard, like words hovered on the tip of her tongue.

Ambiguous speech, huh?

Like, “Your temper’s dog-like” type stuff?

Whatever she says, pushing further might stress Joanna out. Let’s stop here for today.

Since that girl scoped me out, I’ll go chat with Hieronymus next. Then, I’ll pester him during our next meeting. Once he chooses, so will I.

Preferably before dinner tonight.

Thinking that, I sat quietly on the bed.

***

Hieronymus found himself in a tricky situation.

An instructor of faith warriors—and the highest-ranked one at that—Witga had arrived.

Though slightly shorter than Hieronymus, Witga wasn’t exactly small due to Hieronymus’ towering frame.

Muscular and devoid of any glimmer in his eyes, Witga represented the despair and hatred-filled souls who joined this religion. People incapable of living without venting their frustrations.

He was also one of the four stationed below the pyramid steps.

“Hieronymus, yesterday one of the lower ranks asked for a blessing.”

“Refuse him, Witga. It turns people into monsters. We should test it on those lower first.”

Hieronymus considered various possibilities. Worst case scenario: this power creates perfectly controllable beings like Joanna.

Thus, testing it on expendable subjects seemed necessary.

“But I heard something interesting,” Witga continued. “Apparently, this blessing transformed a woman named Joanna into a complete monster. An unknowing elder instantly rejuvenated and almost caught up to decades of training within hours.”

Witga crossed his arms and locked eyes with Hieronymus seriously.

“Listen, Hieronymus, our leader. If we can use this, it’d grant us immense power without hiding in this remote valley performing grotesque rituals.”

“Hmm… it mentioned three per day. And there’s a risk of explosion.”

At that, Witga chuckled.

“Come on, Hieronymus. Who in Future Hope Church fears such risks? Isn’t this the blessing of the god we believe in?”

Humans steeped in despair becoming massive bombs fits a certain pattern.

Ironically, once this phenomenon became widely known, exploiting people until death decreased.

Instead, younger individuals were lured with promises of wealth, exploited until old age, then discarded when convenient—to places where explosions wouldn’t matter.

Oddly enough, overall unhappiness declined. Major cities like capitals remained heavily guarded, but smaller towns suffered from inadequate systems.

Thus, inevitably, some become utterly miserable.

Enter Future Hope Church.

Exploiting and consuming those crushed by misfortune mirrors actions worldwide.

Revenge against those responsible motivates them. Anything for vengeance—even disregarding life.

Here, people twist this way.

“We need the blessing. If you’re worried, send three youths first. Two skilled ones and the weakest one. That should clarify things quickly.”

Hieronymus pondered briefly. Leaving this unchecked wasn’t an option. Time to experiment with whatever introduced itself as Rebecca Rolfe.

Taking it further, if these transformed beings prove useful, dub them apostles of the fake deity Cruxshibal and exploit them accordingly.

“Alright, Witga. Prepare the blessings. You prepare the children. If fortune favors us, we might advance our plans by years.”

“To escape this wretched underground life. Sounds good. Though I wonder how the bigger picture looks. Still, you’d aim to build a nation, wouldn’t you? King of the church-state.”

Hieronymus didn’t flinch.

“The church-state doesn’t need a king.”

“I get it. But leaders and kings are essentially the same, right? Give me a seat if you establish a country. Otherwise, how can I contribute meaningfully?”

Chuckling coldly, Witga calculated power dynamics.

I have my own group to avenge. Simply unleashing monsters won’t suffice.

A larger Future Hope Church increases revenge prospects. Knowing Hieronymus’ true nature, Witga still chose to train warriors here.

Initially recruited for that purpose.

“If we build a nation, I’ll promise you one of the top positions.”

“Great. Even if it’s a promissory note, I trust you’ll honor it for revenge’s sake. Well, I’ll leave then, Hieronymus.”

As Witga stood, Hieronymus asked one last question.

“Do you wish to return as a general?”

Shaking his head, Witga paused at the threshold.

“Ask for a higher position. Being a general again in a failed nation feels pathetic.”

Then, he left quietly, closing the door softly behind him. Hieronymus debated whether to reprimand the one who carelessly interacted with that thing earlier. Through magical means, he saw it sitting listlessly on the bed.

An obedient, childlike girl.

Considering her original personality was quite bold, it sends chills down your spine.

Continuing surveillance, Hieronymus began organizing future plans for the sect.

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