Chapter 20

Future Hope Church.

It’s the name of a cult built by twisting an original primitive religion.

And right now, this cult is burning with fanaticism.

Because up until now, no one has ever witnessed a proper miracle firsthand.

Of course, the church members know the legend of the savior appearing to the most desperate and granting them ultimate vengeance.

And there are rare survivors who’ve seen the purple flames and lived to tell the tale. But seeing it here in such a simple, digestible form within the church was new.

Even if it’s a cult…

Even with thorough brainwashing…

Even if they use gaslighting tactics to inflict psychological damage and drive people mad…

Not everyone loses their sanity completely and becomes a fanatical monster.

So when they announced an event where offerings would be made for blessings, some members were deeply opposed.

Really? Do we need to sacrifice someone as an offering?

There were bound to be people thinking this. Even if they’re followers of a cult, not everyone enjoys disgusting acts of murder.

And when the event started, that disgust reached its peak.

First off, the girl brought by their leader Hieronymus, claiming she was a messenger, seemed utterly normal.

The only strange thing about her was her unusual purple hair—rare in this region—and disproportionately large chest for her height.

Then, when Hieronymus called out those who would receive blessings and led them toward the girl, the atmosphere turned truly revolting.

They were sacrificing their own babies. Newborns, at that.

No sane person could condone such a thing.

Even from the perspective of a cult follower, willingly offering your child as an offering is pure madness.

There’s no way anyone could call that act “right.”

If someone exists who thinks otherwise, they’re less than human—mere beasts.

At least, that’s how it used to be.

But everything changed after that girl stood up.

The sacrificed babies transformed into grotesque monsters.

And the couple who received the blessing came back looking far more attractive, stronger, and even gained special abilities.

Most notably, the eerie violet mist.

Those who knew the rumors understood what was happening.

They recognized the miracles performed by their so-called deity—the color, the form—it all matched ancient legends whispered since time immemorial.

There’s an ancient power in this world that moves for the lowest of the low.

When it manifested right before their eyes, despite feeling neither awe nor fear, deep down they believed it must all be true.

Some with knowledge of magic doubted it initially but eventually concluded that this wasn’t ordinary magic.

If such a powerful spell existed—one capable of warping flesh instantly—they’d surely have sensed it themselves.

Common sense paradoxically validated the girl’s divine power.

Just one baby.

That’s all it takes. For immense strength, beauty, and special abilities—all within reach.

It’s a miracle.

All the injustices piled up over time can be wiped away, allowing a fresh start. This realization spread like wildfire among the congregation, turning into feverish excitement.

Even those pretending to hold onto reason had long fallen victim to despair, wearing metaphorical necklaces of suffering around their necks. If they could remove them, they’d do anything.

Any semblance of rationality or basic morality vanished in that moment.

Why cling to small principles when you can improve yourself?

Especially when others around you are doing the same—it emboldens the crowd further. Like crossing a red light together makes it feel less scary.

The more people share responsibility, the less accountable each individual feels.

And so, the final sentence reads:

As long as it’s not me, it’s fine.

This selfish logic dismantles humanity’s greatest achievement—civilization—and regresses us to something less than primates.

Finding someone else to shoulder your sacrifices and learning what benefits you gain from their loss isn’t new.

Animal sacrifice rituals.

Far from unique, these practices exist naturally wherever humans gather. A hierarchy forms: the strong, the average, and the sacrificial lambs. It happens organically without teaching.

These rituals continue until the sacrificial lamb dies, then another is chosen.

Morality doesn’t apply here.

For the strong, laws and morals are tools to protect themselves. Laws prevent the weak from uniting against them, while morality discourages critical thought. They’re rules designed solely for exploitation.

For the average, morality isn’t necessary. Ignoring wrongdoings ensures they remain unaffected. Turning a blind eye grants them the benefit of survival.

For the victim, laws and morals are meaningless. They’re tools created by the strong to maintain the status quo, inherently producing victims.

Society always marginalizes certain roles: executioners, butchers, witches, etc., using them to reinforce community norms while ostracizing them.

Essential work, yet undervalued.

Thus, it wasn’t hard for members of Future Hope Church to abandon basic morality.

Sacrifice someone else, and you’ll be blessed.

The gates of hell opened wide.

Every last soul spiraled into despair.

Ideally, laws and morals should prevent such actions and create a better world. Laws should restrain the powerful and protect the weak.

Morals should discourage horrific deeds and guide us toward better lives.

But ideals differ from reality. The fatal flaw lies in the fact that flawed humans—not gods—create and enforce these systems.

Decay is easy, fun, and satisfying.

In truth, the moment this cult sacrificed an innocent girl, they crossed a point of no return.

Already corrupted, calling it decay now feels redundant; “rotten” fits better.

Fanaticism consumed Future Hope Church.

At first, two people.

Two days later, three.

Soon, three per day received blessings.

Though the population dwindled, Future Hope Church operated in isolation, so the decrease went unnoticed.

All that remained visible were the smiling faces of those blessed—handsome, strong, sometimes even psychic.

And you can become like them too, as long as you offer a sacrifice.

The brakes broke long ago.

Now, members of Future Hope Church spend their days hunting for sacrifices while eagerly awaiting their own blessings.

Hieronymus watched the chaos unfold with indifference. After all, this group served only as a tool for his purposes.

If their corruption aids him, all the better.

Deciding to amplify the fervor, he staged another miracle.

He brought forward a member who had accomplished a significant task but lost both arms and legs in the process, then asked Rebecca to bless them without requiring an offering.

Of course, Hieronymus secretly prepared the offering elsewhere beforehand.

The disabled member regained their limbs through Rebecca’s blessing, though unlike Joanna—who turned pale—this person’s skin became bluish.

Hieronymus proclaimed this as proof that those devoted to the church would receive greater blessings.

He encouraged members to dedicate themselves fully to the cause.

Successful missions ensured resurrection regardless of injury, creating an environment where orders were gladly followed.

Dangerous missions, perilous postings—no one hesitated.

This cult attracted only the desperate and hopeless, making active participation difficult.

But now, with motivation restored, things flowed smoothly.

Follow Hieronymus’s commands, and you’ll receive blessings.

Though framed as the will of their god, it was ultimately Hieronymus pulling the strings—for Yasu’s revenge.

Empowered by newfound strength, the cult began expanding rapidly.

Once a minor sect growing quietly, they now spread aggressively under the leadership of the blessed.

Their newfound power was extraordinary.

Ordinary people transformed into warriors capable of defeating a hundred foes after receiving blessings.

Occasionally, someone achieved legendary status, gaining the strength to fight thousands.

Wide, one of the first blessed individuals, earned fame within the church.

Purple flames consumed both physical and magical resistance alike.

With inflated egos craving distinction, Wide adopted the title “Blaze King.”

“Blaze King” Wide.

Hieronymus smirked inwardly but approved. Personal glory was a potent motivator.

True to form, Wide organized his own faction, training diligently and following orders closely.

Hieronymus observed his long-term plan unfolding step by step.

Meanwhile, Yasu sharpened his blade of hatred.

Everything changed after summoning the outsider through Rebecca Rolfe’s body.

The outsider was pure and controllable.

Future Hope Church obeyed perfectly.

To Yasu, everything appeared flawless.

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