Chapter 10

Hieronymus and two men took the corpse outside.

Judging by Hieronymus’s expression as they left, maybe showing them the act of extracting warmth was a mistake.

Still, this is better than being caught later in a more obvious way.

But I never expected things to change so quickly. Last time, there was a faint connection, but now… nothing.

He didn’t even look at me with the eyes of an opponent.

That raises the question—what exactly am I?

Of course, there’s no need to dwell on such thoughts. Before pondering what I am, I need to gain more warmth.

This might be my only chance to exist in this world. If I retreat back to the depths, like sinking into an ocean, who knows if I’ll ever return with a body again?

Besides, this body isn’t really mine anyway.

It was only because of this body that Joanna succeeded—though just barely. Even when I pushed her to her limits, she exploded.

By the way, Joanna keeps staring at me with a strange look. What’s up? Is she afraid of me because of what just happened?

Strangely, she still gazes at me like someone filled with faith.

If anything, it seems stronger now.

Perhaps it’s because turning people into monsters gives off an impressive power, especially for someone like Joanna.

Especially since she herself has changed too.

I stood up and scanned the room. There are plenty of fancy furnishings, but everything feels mismatched.

Maybe that’s why the weird contraption above can stay hidden. The whole room is wrapped in a creepy, damp aura.

It feels similar to the arrows from the altar or the swords those men were holding earlier.

Meanwhile, Joanna went outside, probably to fetch cleaning tools to wipe away the blood spilled when she cut off that boy’s head.

It’s fascinating how I can see all these details at once. If only the person standing next to Hieronymus could perceive things this way—it’d be reassuring.

Or maybe Hieronymus himself.

But considering how wary he is of me, it’d be hard to make him trust me like Joanna does.

We’ll wait for the right moment.

Main goal: Increase the Harvesting System. Production plans are set, so we just need to finalize schedules and quantities.

Next, I need to figure out how to gather more warmth.

Looking at Joanna, she exudes the kind of confidence that comes with immense power—but that’s about it.

Her skin turned blue, and the light around her darkened to a purplish hue, yet there’s no sign of any primal urges overtaking her.

Unlike the young warrior of faith, Cheki. His name lingers in my mind.

He underwent a transformation similar to mine. When he lost his warmth, he felt the same icy chill seeping into his bones. Instinctively, he attacked the light in front of him, recognizing it as a source of warmth.

In response, Patricia, a girl nearby, was struck by one of Cheki’s bizarre arrows and died instantly.

Thinking about chains of connections, perhaps warmth flowed from Patricia to Cheki before reaching me?

But the warmth came directly to me instead.

Or maybe all calculations conclude before the results manifest?

What even *is* warmth?

Light feels like a soul.

Or maybe it’s a container holding souls.

Warmth resides here. Light falls from the sky onto me. In the beginning, when I couldn’t even trigger explosions, all I could do was watch helplessly as it descended.

Then came a time when light rarely fell, and after an immeasurably long period, I finally regained warmth.

So, I just consumed warmth moments ago. Though dimmed, the light remained.

Where did all the light that fell on me go until now? Licking it gave me both warmth and memories.

I licked it again just now.

But the light didn’t disappear.

Or perhaps the light falling on me was fading all along. Everyone involved either killed themselves or reached a state akin to death, so I judged their warmth to be bitter.

On the other hand, those who lived happily before meeting tragic ends carried far greater warmth.

Thus, warmth must align with joy, happiness, or hope for the future.

In other words, killing good people and turning them into beings tainted by my influence yields the most warmth.

And I need warmth.

So, it must be done.

Anything goes.

Fortunately, Hieronymus harbors hatred toward the current ruling class. Though he generalized his disdain against all kings and nobles, realistically, he likely holds grudges against only a few individuals—probably from one or two countries.

Still, he built this cult of Future Hope Church through hatred.

Once hatred ceases, someone else will inevitably kill him, seize his cause, and carry on the legacy of this false religion.

This is also why every dictator eventually corrupts—even if they start with pure ideals, their followers rarely share the same vision, especially those wielding force.

If you don’t take care of them, the first dictator dies, and a second arises.

Hmm. Indeed.

If I grant them power, I can maintain this “factory.” This place is essentially a pasture designed to breed hatred.

Thus, increasing the Harvesting System is essential.

Joanna’s physical capabilities have significantly improved. She grabs opponents, regenerates wounds, and calmly targets the light—all signs of effective performance.

Nice power.

Back in the room, I watched Joanna clean up the blue blood smeared across the floor and walls with cleaning tools.

Beautiful on the outside, but she’s actually over fifty—a woman whose youth was shattered by domestic violence and the loss of her child.

Because of that, she performs tough tasks without hesitation.

How much further will she transform?

Sitting down, I absentmindedly wiped the floor with a rag while watching Joanna Smith touch her waist, clearly delighted.

***

Hieronymus. Real name: Yasle.

The leader of this Future Hope Church brought the corpse to his lab.

His subordinate placed it on the operating table, bowed, and left.

After confirming they were gone, Yasle turned his gaze to the corpse.

Its form had mutated so grotesquely that no one would believe it was once human.

What remained after consuming Rebecca Rolfe’s warmth—a grotesque creature wearing her skin inside-out.

Prepared for potential danger, Yasle donned thick gloves and plunged his sword into the corpse.

From the left side of the face, where no bruising should’ve been visible, grew a massive horn—not exoskeletal but more like raw flesh.

What truly interested him was the skull. While bloated flesh was common, powerful magic or curses often reshaped bones entirely.

Scraping away the flesh revealed little more than fragments of bone where the skull should’ve been.

This proved the result of an immensely potent force—and further demonstrated the strength of whatever wore Rebecca Rolfe’s skin.

Just as Yasle began contemplating further, the door burst open.

Standing in the doorway was someone barely half Yasle’s height. One of the four figures stationed near the innermost circles beyond the three altars.

Her defining feature? A staff taller than herself, adorned with a human skull and vertebrae.

As she entered, she pulled back the cloth covering her face, revealing silvery hair and the visage of a teenage girl. Though visually charming, her malevolent grin betrayed sinister intentions as she approached Yasle.

“Ah-ha! So this is the monster’s creation? Just as monstrous as I heard from the others outside!”

“Tungkeschini. Do not enter my lab uninvited.”

Yasle addressed her thus. She feigned surprise, glancing at him with renewed interest.

“Come now, shouldn’t we examine this together? We need to understand what infiltrated the divine vessel we prepared. Right? Isn’t that so, Yasle?”

With an eerily cheerful voice, Tungkeschini giggled and called him by name.

“Tungkeschini.”

“Oh, sorry! Here, you’re still ‘Hieronymus,’ aren’t you? Who’d have thought such a pious leader of Yeongyang Church Nation would fall so far into heresy?”

Tungkeschini stepped closer, stopping before Yasle. Then, she plunged her hand into the creature’s head, rummaging around.

Pulling her hand out, she grabbed her staff and stabbed it into the decapitated torso.

Pusht.

The skull atop her staff opened and closed its jaw several times.

Tungkeschini tapped the staff a few times before placing her hand over the twisted body’s chest, where the heart should’ve been.

“Huh… Not human. Was it ever human at all? No trace of spirit remains. Hmm… Perhaps this is the essence of whatever possessed it?”

A faint purple mist emerged from the chest, swirling briefly before vanishing without a trace.

Tungkeschini’s smile faded, replaced by serious contemplation as she swept her disheveled silver hair aside.

“Did you learn anything?”

“Somewhat. But this…”

Suddenly, she leapt onto the operating table, rolling up her sleeves to the shoulder. Placing her small, pale hand over the chest cavity, shadows coiled around it like a child’s hand.

But unlike her shadowy hand retreating, it got stuck in the center of the body.

Then, a miniature black hole formed, collapsing everything within reach into a single point before disappearing.

“Magic power annihilation phenomenon. Huh. You summoned something beyond dimensions.”

“What is it?”

Instead of answering Yasle’s question, Tungkeschini hopped off the table and grinned mischievously.

She then turned to Yasle with a playful smile.

“The void entity known in Yeongyang Church as the Great Despair. Those overwhelmed by extreme despair unleash catastrophic explosions before sucking everything in their vicinity into oblivion. Your fake god, Cruxshibal. Whatever name you use, it all points to one thing.”

Her face radiated madness as she raised both arms dramatically.

“The Witch of Ecstasy, Tungkeschini, declares—you’ve uncovered the real deal, Yasle. All the dregs of false religions and heresies yearned for this forbidden truth, yet none succeeded. Until now!”

Spattered with laughter like spewing blood, Tungkeschini cackled uncontrollably.

Isn’t it hilarious? The very man who once enforced orthodoxy and crushed heretical sects has now created the vengeance deity they all desired.

Yasle gripped the space where the holy artifact of Yeongyang Church once hung around his neck, only to realize it was gone. He lowered his hand, glaring at Tungkeschini—the enemy he once fought and still opposes.

Lifting his blade, he resumed analyzing the remnants left behind by his latest tool.

Amidst Tungkeschini’s maniacal laughter, he continued studying the creature’s remains.

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