The man on the altar turned to her, his lips curling into a warm smile. “Welcome, welcome. Are you one of our new followers?”

His words seemed to shift the atmosphere in the room. The cloaked figures, who had initially stared at her with suspicion, now regarded her with a strange, unsettling friendliness. Some even gestured for her to join them, waving their hands and softly chanting, “Come, come.”

Victoria’s instincts screamed at her to run. This place felt wrong—dangerous. But the sudden shift in the crowd’s demeanor left her frozen. Desperation clawed at her chest, and she turned to the one person—or rather, the one sword—she trusted for guidance.

“What should I do, Asura?” she whispered mentally. “Run? Or stay?”

While Victoria focused on the people, William was scanning the room. He noticed something she hadn’t: a potential exit at the back of the altar. It was partially hidden, but it looked like a way out.

More importantly, he realized that not all these people could be from the school. If they blended in, they might be able to slip away unnoticed.

“There’s a way out behind the altar,” William said quickly. “But running now would only make them chase us. Play along. Pretend to be one of them. We’ll leave when they do.”

It was the best plan he could come up with in the moment. Running was too risky—he could feel it. These people wouldn’t let her go so easily.

Victoria swallowed her fear and forced a smile, turning back to the man on the altar. “Yes, but… I’m a bit lost here.”

The priest’s smile widened, his expression almost fatherly. “Don’t worry, my child. Take one of the cloaks and join us. We’ll take care of you.”

Victoria’s eyes darted to the corner of the room, where a stack of black cloaks lay folded.

She grabbed one and draped it over herself, the fabric heavy and strangely cold. She hesitated for a moment before choosing a seat next to an elderly woman. Sitting alone would make her stand out, and that was the last thing she wanted.

As she sat down, the old woman leaned in and whispered, “You’re so young, yet you already understand the truth. It warms my heart to see the new generation embracing the path.”

Victoria nodded awkwardly, her mind racing. She had no idea what the woman was talking about. It was clear this was a cult, but who—or what—they worshipped was beyond her.

William, however, recognized the signs immediately. The symbols, the altar, the talk of a “god of flesh”—it was all too familiar. This was the same dark faith Jonas had been involved in. The realization sent a chill through him, even as a sword.

‘People see the demon race as evil,’ William thought, ‘and here I am, manipulating Victoria. Am I any better than them who are part of this cult? Could this god of flesh be misinterpreted?’

The priest’s voice boomed through the chamber, pulling William from his thoughts. “The God of Flesh is pleased! Today, we welcome another soul into our fold. Our community grows, and I can feel His gaze upon us. A miracle is coming—I can sense it.”

The crowd erupted into murmurs of excitement, their voices rising in a fervent chant. Victoria kept her head down, her heart pounding. She didn’t belong here, and every second felt like an eternity. But for now, she had to play the part.

Victoria didn’t dare speak to the cultists directly. Instead, she communicated with William through her thoughts, her mind racing with questions.

“What miracle are they talking about? This whole thing feels… wrong.”

“It does,” William replied, his mental voice calm but cautious. “But we need to keep pretending. Just stay quiet and watch. We’ll figure this out.”

“Yeah…” Victoria’s unease was palpable, but she had no choice but to play along.

The priest continued his sermon, speaking in grandiose terms about their faith and the power of their god. He listened to the testimonies of his followers, their voices filled with reverence and awe. But soon, the moment everyone had been waiting for arrived.

“Its energy is here!” the priest declared, his voice booming with excitement. “We can make a miracle happen today. You—come forward.”

He pointed toward Victoria’s direction, and for a heart-stopping moment, she thought he was choosing her. Panic surged through her, and she nearly bolted from her seat. But then she realized the priest was pointing to the elderly woman beside her—Lady Olsen.

The old woman rose from the bench, her face glowing with joy. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment her entire life.

“Today,” the priest announced, his tone shifting to something more solemn, “one of our oldest and most devoted followers, Lady Olsen, will receive a miracle. As many of you know, she has struggled with illness and the frailty of age. But today, all of that will be undone! Today, she will be reborn!”

William’s attention sharpened. He was fascinated—and deeply disturbed—by what was unfolding. This cult, their rituals, their so-called miracles… it was all connected to something far darker than he had anticipated.

Lady Olsen stepped up to the altar, kneeling before the grotesque statue of the God of Flesh. The priest raised his hands, urging the congregation to do the same.

“Join me in prayer!” he commanded, his voice echoing through the chamber. “Chant with me, and let the energy of our god flow through this sacred space!”

The room filled with a low, rhythmic chant in a language neither Victoria nor William could understand. Even with the system’s assistance, William found the words incomprehensible—a guttural, otherworldly tongue that sent shivers down his spine.

At first, nothing happened. William began to wonder if this was all an elaborate charade. But then, he felt it—a strange, oppressive energy descending upon the room. It wasn’t mana. It was something darker, more primal, and far more unsettling.

Victoria felt it too, though not as keenly as William. The energy grew stronger with each passing moment, filling the chamber with an almost tangible weight. The cultists’ chanting grew louder, more fervent, their voices blending into a cacophony of devotion.

Suddenly, the statue of the God of Flesh began to glow with a faint, crimson light. The energy coalesced into a thin, red stream that flowed into Lady Olsen’s body. She collapsed to the ground, her form trembling as the energy consumed her.

Victoria instinctively moved to help, but William stopped her. “Wait. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Let’s see what happens.”

Minutes passed, the tension in the room unbearable. Then, slowly, Lady Olsen stirred. She rose to her feet, her movements fluid and strong—nothing like the frail, elderly woman who had knelt before the altar. When she turned to face the congregation, gasps of awe and disbelief filled the room.

Lady Olsen was no longer old. She looked as though she had been restored to her youth, her skin smooth, her posture upright, and her eyes bright with vitality. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their faith in their god reaffirmed.

The priest raised his hands, silencing the room. “Today, our god has shown his power! Lady Olsen has been healed, her youth restored! This is the miracle we have been blessed with. And tomorrow, it could be any one of you!”

The cultists erupted into celebration, hugging one another and praising their god. Victoria sat frozen, her mind reeling. William, too, was at a loss for words.

‘Is this how Jonas plans to resurrect his family?’ William wondered, his thoughts racing. ‘How does this even work? What kind of power are we dealing with here?’

The cult’s meeting came to an end, and the atmosphere shifted from reverence to celebration. The followers rejoiced, marveling at the miracle they had just witnessed. Lady Olsen, now youthful and radiant, was surrounded by well-wishers, her transformation a testament to their god’s power.

Priest Malakai addressed the congregation once more. “Our next gathering will be in one month’s time. Until then, keep the faith alive in your hearts.”

A murmur of disappointment rippled through the crowd. One of the followers spoke up. “Why so long, Father Malakai? We hunger for more of His blessings.”

Malakai smiled warmly, though there was a glint of something sharper in his eyes. “Our faith stretches far and wide, my children. I must attend to matters at another branch of our community. The God of Flesh’s work is never done.”

William’s attention sharpened at those words. ‘Branches scattered across the continent?’ he thought. ‘This cult is far more organized than I realized.’

The followers seemed satisfied with his explanation, their faith unwavering. Soon, they began to disperse, filing out through the exit William had spotted earlier. Victoria moved to join them, eager to leave the eerie church behind, but Malakai intercepted her.

“A moment, my child,” he said, his tone friendly but probing. “How did you come to know of our faith? Who invited you?”

Victoria’s heart skipped a beat. The priest’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, and she could sense the suspicion beneath his calm demeanor. She turned to William in a panic.

“What do I do, Asura? He wants a name, and I don’t have one! If I mess this up, they’ll know I’m an intruder!”

William hesitated for only a second before taking a gamble. “Say the Black Pine family invited you.”

It was a risky move, but it was their only shot.

Victoria forced a smile and met Malakai’s gaze. “The Black Pine family invited me.”

For a moment, the priest’s expression faltered, surprise flickering across his face. Then he smiled, broader this time, and patted her on the shoulder. “The Black Pine family, you say? They are esteemed members of our community. This is excellent news. I look forward to seeing you next month.”

Victoria nodded, her relief hidden behind a mask of calm. She quickly made her way to the exit, blending in with the other departing cultists. Once she was outside and a safe distance away, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Who the hell is the Black Pine family?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep