Chapter 13

Finally, the fourth morning arrived.

Of course, this was just a rhetorical expression—no sunlight actually reached this place.

Instead, Hieronymus showed up with three kids, asking for blessings. There was a confident boy and girl, and another boy who looked utterly intimidated.

They stood behind Hieronymus, and among them was someone visibly afraid of this attempt—the timid boy.

That boy looks scared.

He might have been brought here against his will.

Hmm… why would someone be dragged here unwillingly? I called it a “blessing,” and yet people usually volunteer willingly for such things. Why force him?

Ah!

I get it now.

You want to see how much my Harvesting System improves the subjects’ potential. Now that you mention it, I’m curious too.

We need a control subject.

“Miss Rebecca, please.”

Hieronymus stepped aside, leaving me to extend my hand. I’ll pick the one most likely to run away—and also the one who’d make things interesting if there’s any trouble later.

The most intimidated boy.

I pointed at him.

“Come forward first.”

Zap.

The expressions of the nearby boy and girl sharpened instantly.

Heh heh. That’s jealousy. It’s the look in someone’s eyes when they’re plotting your demise, or even how their memories reflect your face in moments of betrayal. People betrayed often seek revenge, but end up failing miserably and falling into despair—it happens more than you think.

So, I approached the boy and let myself flow deeper into Rebecca Rolfe. Cracks spread across her body like shattered glass, and dark purple mist seeped out.

And that mist is me.

I extended myself toward the boy—a bright light accompanied by a faint warmth. The light feels strong, but the warmth is minimal? Honestly, I don’t understand the relationship between them either.

Anyway, I push myself into the light like I did with Joanna before. The temptation to take the warmth is strong, but I must resist here.

Invest now to gain more later!

When the dark purple mist touched the light, it began to turn black. This feels subtly different from the last time I absorbed an offering.

This time, it maintains its shape. Last time, the light shrank.

If we assume this light follows the properties of actual light, perhaps only one wavelength remains while others are cut off—but does it really behave like light?

The light centered on the boy gradually dimmed, turning a faint purplish-black.

Huh?

Nothing like Joanna—no cracked body revealing blue skin, no eyes changing to solid black. He’s just trembling.

What a strange kid, Tisah. He was kidnapped as a child and raised within the Future Hope Church. Like the others, he underwent brainwashing education.

But he had doubts—about the teachings here, about the god they preached.

Why does bodily explosion equal salvation? Why do they claim hope exists despite teaching despair and collapse leads to divine help?

Very valid questions.

As a child, he learned asking these questions only brought resentment, so he stopped. And eventually, he realized questioning could be dangerous. For years, he never voiced his doubts.

But I know he wasn’t fully brainwashed. During lessons or other activities, he pretended to be enthusiastic. Hmm… Is that why something didn’t happen earlier?

One thing he hasn’t done.

“I offer myself to you. In return, when all is finished, I’ll take everything I’ve gained. How does that sound?”

Thump.

Hmm. His heart is racing. He’s nervous.

Contracts may sound dangerous, but this one isn’t bad.

I give you strength; if you die, I take what you built with that strength. Simple as that.

Let me help you however I can. Afterward, you take everything. The warmth from lives you take during this process? Consider it a dividend.

It’s not like some demonic pact binding you with unknown powers, nor does it dictate specific actions. Relax.

While waiting for his answer, I thought about it. If Tisah refuses, I might withdraw completely—wonder what would happen then?

Drip, drip. Sweat fell as the boy clenched his fists tightly.

“I accept the contract, Apostle.”

Apostle?

Hieronymus mentioned that before. Since I invalidated the existence of Cruxshibal, he wanted to introduce me as the apostle of that nonexistent god.

But I’m no apostle. Let’s clarify the terms.

“Call me Rebecca. Human.”

For now, I’ll keep the information that licking the light reveals memories hidden. It would be weird if I already knew his name, considering Hieronymus introduced them simply as children seeking divine power.

“I agree to the contract, Miss Rebecca.”

“Good.”

But nothing dramatic happened. Just his brown-blond hair turned purple.

Behind me, someone gasped.

The two kids watched Tisah with admiration, expectation, and envy. Joanna stood apart, and Hieronymus observed everything with sharp eyes.

Alright, who’s next?

Since I’m curious how those empowered by me would fare against each other, let’s stir up some jealousy.

I pointed to the girl next. The boy will go last—it’s more stimulating to save someone of the same gender for the finale.

Heh heh.

“Come forward.”

“Yes!”

The girl approached me cheerfully. My body has cracks, though they’re not literal tears in flesh or bone exposing anything inside. Instead, a void-like darkness fills them—not pitch black but like the night sky transferred inward, akin to “void energy” from video games.

Dark purple mist flowed out and touched the girl.

This time, the light is stronger, and so is the warmth.

Wow, this feels genuinely warm. Should I sneak a bit of that warmth? Failure was mentioned, so maybe I should try taking it once, just to see what happens? No, probably not.

Lying once makes it easier to lie again, which isn’t good.

To deceive someone long-term, telling the truth is best.

So, I settle for turning the light darker instead of stealing that tempting warmth.

Her name is Isla.

She was also kidnapped as a child but showed talent in physical combat, so she trained as a warrior. Their system is thorough—they train all children for physical strength and agility, regardless of gender.

Cults often use martial arts-trained individuals effectively and efficiently reward or punish them.

Training strengthens rather than breaks tools. The education plan is clearly well-structured.

Clearly, Hieronymus isn’t ordinary. He didn’t build this cult purely through charisma. He knows a lot and likely has experience managing large social groups.

Good for me—he’ll handle the Harvester better.

There’s nothing special about Isla. She’s talented, praised often, and harbors ambitions to become the greatest here. That’s all.

When Witga received support, she was the first to raise her hand.

“I offer myself to you. In return, when all is finished, I’ll take everything I’ve gained.”

Again, I’ll check her memories first to avoid losing information if something goes wrong.

I asked Isla, who stared at me with shining eyes.

“Do you agree?”

“Yes! Miss Rebecca!”

No hesitation. Maybe because she saw Tisah earlier, she skipped calling me “Apostle” and went straight to “Rebecca.”

Thud.

Suddenly, Isla grew taller by about a foot. Unlike Joanna, whose body cracked and rebuilt itself, hers simply slimmed down slightly, transforming her into a mature woman.

Her hair roots turned purple while the tips remained red. Eventually, it’ll all turn purple.

Her skin became much paler, almost eerily white from afar, and her eyes turned purple.

That’s the extent of her transformation.

Standing up, Isla bounced happily, smiled widely, and returned to her spot.

Lastly, I called the remaining boy. He stared at the transformed Isla in awe before rushing over to me.

I repeated the same process. Contact the light with the dark purple mist, lick it to access memories. Ah, this one’s the son of a church member. His name is Wide. Born into the Future Hope Church, unlike the others who were kidnapped, he received many advantages from his parents.

Conversely, he inherited their unfulfilled wishes.

Even back in the country where he lived as a human, parents projected their dreams onto their children, pushing them competitively and demanding high achievements.

Fortunately, this boy had talent. With outstanding skills, he seized every opportunity to advance beyond others.

“Yourself to me. In return, when all is finished, you’ll take everything you’ve gained. Do you agree?”

“Yes, Miss Rebecca.”

Thud.

The contract ended. Like Isla, he aged instantly by a few years. His short hair turned entirely purple, and his skin became pale white.

Unlike the first two, purple flames erupted from his hands. Startled, Wide tried to extinguish them but soon realized they weren’t hot and stopped.

Carefully observing the purple flames dancing on his hands, he clenched his fist, causing the fire to vanish. When he opened his palm again after a moment, the flames reappeared.

Quickly mastering the power, Wide turned to me with joy—but froze mid-turn when he noticed Hieronymus watching him with a stern expression.

His mood dropped instantly.

After bowing hastily to me, he scurried back to the group of children. Then Hieronymus stepped forward.

“To the apostle of our god, thank you for blessing these children. We praise this joy and dedicate eternal glory to our god. May our future always be filled with endless hope.”

With that formal closing remark, Hieronymus led the children outside.

Wide found the whole experience fascinating—how he could harness my abilities and how each person reacted differently. Plenty to ponder for both me and Hieronymus.

Anyway, first goal achieved: +3 to the Harvester!

Now, let’s observe the changes.

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