Morning finally broke on the fourth day.

Of course, that’s just a figurative expression—actual sunlight never reached this place.

Instead, Hieronymus arrived with three children, requesting blessings for them. Among them were a confident boy, a confident girl, and a boy who seemed utterly cowed.

They stood behind Hieronymus, and one of them, the timid boy, was visibly terrified.

That boy… he might have been brought here against his will.

Hmm. Why would someone be forced into this? They called it a blessing, didn’t they? Wouldn’t there be plenty of volunteers? Yet he was dragged here?

Ah!

I understand now.

They want to see how much a subject’s performance improves when I create a “harvester.” It makes sense; even I’m curious about that.

You need a control subject for proper comparisons.

“Lady Rebecca, if you would be so kind,” Hieronymus said, stepping aside.

I extended my hand. Let’s start with the one most likely to run away. It’ll be amusing if it causes friction among them later.

The most timid boy.

I pointed at him.

“Come forward first.”

Glares.

The other boy and the girl next to him sharpened their gazes at me.

Heh. That’s jealousy. It’s the same look you see in someone’s eyes when they’re about to stab someone. It’s the expression reflected in your opponent’s eyes when betrayal, revenge, and despair take their toll.

You’d be surprised how many people fall into that cycle—betrayed, seeking revenge, then miserably failing and succumbing to despair.

I approached the boy and pressed myself deeper into Rebecca Rolf’s body. The flesh cracked as though it were shattering, and dark-purple mist began to seep out.

That mist was me.

I extended myself, letting the mist reach the boy. A vivid light, accompanied by faint warmth, met my touch. The light was large and bright, but the warmth was minimal?

I truly don’t understand the correlation.

Regardless, I pushed myself into the light as I had done with Joanna. Though the temptation to steal its warmth was overwhelming, I held back here.

You have to invest to reap greater rewards later!

As the dark-purple mist touched the light, the light began to turn black. This process differed slightly from when I absorbed the sacrificial victim’s warmth.

This light retained its form. Back then, the light had shrunk.

If this light truly behaves like light, then it’s as if all but one wavelength has been stripped away, leaving only a singular band. But I doubt it actually adheres to the properties of light.

Eventually, the light at the core of the boy dimmed, turning into a faintly violet-tinged black.

Huh?

Unlike Joanna, his body didn’t crack to reveal blue skin, nor did his eyes change into black sclera.

Instead, he simply trembled violently.

An odd boy, this Tisaha. He’d been kidnapped at a very young age and brought to the Future Hope Sect, where he’d been raised through indoctrination like the other children.

Yet, he harbored doubts. Doubts about the teachings they were given and about the god they claimed to serve.

Why does bodily explosion equate to salvation? Why believe in a god who aids despairing souls yet preach about hope for the future?

His questions were entirely reasonable.

He had stopped voicing these doubts after realizing that asking only drew hostility. Eventually, he learned that questioning was dangerous. For years, he hadn’t spoken a word of his doubts.

But he wasn’t fully brainwashed.

During training and other activities, he pretended to be enthusiastic. Oh, was that why this had happened?

There was one thing he hadn’t done.

“I will offer myself to you. In return, when you’ve finished everything, I will take everything you’ve gained. What do you think?”

Thump.

Hmm. His heart is pounding noisily. Thump, thump. He’s tense.

The proposal might sound dangerous, but it’s not actually a bad deal.

I give you power; you use it freely. When you die, I’ll collect what you’ve built. Simple. The warmth from lives you’ve taken in the process? Consider it a dividend.

It’s not a deal with a devil binding him through unknown forces. I’m not even giving specific orders. It’s entirely up to him.

I waited for his response, but he kept trembling, unable to speak.

Only his heart raced uncontrollably.

Thump, thump.

This, at least, confirmed that I could still see things from Tisaha’s perspective. Even without words, I could sense that if he killed someone, I would gain warmth from it.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back.”

I was curious about what would happen if I completely withdrew myself from him.

Drip, drip. Beads of sweat fell from the boy’s trembling form as he tensed his entire body.

“I… I’ll make the contract, my apostle.”

Apostle?

Ah, that’s what Hieronymus had mentioned before. Since I’d rejected the notion of being the god Krssaksshibal, he’d decided to introduce me as that god’s apostle.

But I’m no apostle. Let’s clarify this contract.

“Call me Rebecca, human.”

I still wanted to keep the knowledge about licking light to read memories to myself. Knowing this boy’s name without an introduction would seem suspicious. Hieronymus had only introduced them as children seeking divine power.

“I… I’ll make the contract, Lady Rebecca.”

“Good.”

However, the dramatic results I’d anticipated didn’t occur. His previously light brown hair simply darkened into violet.

A murmur of awe came from the background.

The other two children stared at Tisaha with envy, expectation, and jealousy. Joanna remained at a distance, while Hieronymus watched the creation of a harvester with sharp eyes.

Now then, who’s next?

I was curious what would happen if those imbued with my power fought each other, so I decided to fuel the jealousy.

I pointed to the girl next.

“You’re next.”

“Yes, ma’am!” she responded cheerfully, walking up to me.

I repeated the same process: releasing the dark-purple mist, letting it seep into her light. This time, the light was bright and filled with abundant warmth.

Oh, this feels so warm. Should I take it? Since there’s always a risk of failure, maybe just one bite…

No, that wouldn’t do. A single lie can unravel everything. To deceive for the long term, always tell the truth.

So, despite the temptation to steal the warmth, I dyed the light black.

Her name is Isla.

She, too, had been kidnapped at a young age but demonstrated remarkable physical talent. Thus, she was trained as a warrior.

The cult seemed to run a systematic program, identifying children with potential. From Tisaha alone, it wasn’t clear, but seeing Isla confirmed it.

Every child received rigorous physical training under the guise of “building basic strength.” Gender didn’t matter. For a cult like this, training martial practitioners was immensely useful. It allowed for efficient rewards and punishments.

Through training, punishment became a means to strengthen tools rather than break them. It was an impressively thorough education plan.

As expected, Hieronymus wasn’t an ordinary person. He hadn’t built this cult purely on charisma; he had vast knowledge. It seemed highly likely he had experience managing a large social structure.

For me, this was excellent. Someone like him could operate the harvesters far more effectively.

Isla, however, wasn’t particularly complicated. She had talent, received much praise, and harbored an ambition to become the most prominent figure in the group. That was it.

So, when Witega requested candidates for the blessing, Isla had immediately volunteered.

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

I asked her after already confirming the situation. I had considered starting with this question, but if the process failed, I’d lose all the data. That’s why I tested the light first before making the offer.

Looking at me with sparkling eyes, Isla responded.

“I agree, Lady Rebecca!”

Her response came without hesitation. Perhaps witnessing Tisaha’s transformation had reassured her; she didn’t call me “apostle” but addressed me directly as “Rebecca.”

Crack.

Suddenly, Isla grew taller, her height increasing by nearly a handspan. Unlike Joanna, whose body had shattered to reveal a new form beneath, Isla’s transformation was less dramatic—her frame became slightly leaner, giving her a more mature and imposing figure.

Her once light-brown hair turned violet at the roots, with the tips taking on a reddish hue. It was clear that over time, her hair would become entirely violet.

Her skin grew much paler, to the point of appearing almost ghostly white from a distance. Her eyes shifted to a deep violet as well.

And that was it for her transformation.

Rising to her feet, Isla hopped on the spot, beaming before returning to her place with a spring in her step.

Finally, the last boy stepped forward. He had been staring at Isla in amazement and only hurried to me after realizing it was his turn.

I repeated the same process: connecting the dark-purple mist to his light and “tasting” it to glean his memories. This boy’s name was Wide.

Unlike the kidnapped children, Wide had been born into the Future Hope Sect. As a child of cult members, he had inherited their beliefs, teachings, and expectations.

He also bore the burden of his parents’ aspirations.

Even in the human world, parents often imposed their dreams onto their children—pushing them into competitive environments, demanding high achievements.

Fortunately for Wide, he had talent. Excelling in his training, he seized every opportunity to prove himself superior to others.

“I will offer myself to you. In return, when you’ve finished everything, I will take everything you’ve gained. Do you agree?”

“Yes, Lady Rebecca.”

Crack.

The contract was complete. Wide’s transformation was similar to Isla’s. His height increased, making him look as though he had aged several more years in an instant. With his short hair, the transition was more striking—his locks turned entirely violet. His skin, like Isla’s, became deathly pale.

There was one notable difference: violet flames erupted from his hands. Startled, Wide instinctively tried to extinguish the flames, only to realize they weren’t hot. He paused, observing his burning hands, before clenching his fists. The flames disappeared. Opening his hands again, the fire reignited.

Mastering this new ability almost immediately, Wide turned toward me with a sense of joy. However, his elation faltered when his gaze met Hieronymus’s.

Hieronymus, wearing an unreadable but stern expression, stared at him.

Wide quickly bowed to me before scurrying back to the others, as though retreating from Hieronymus’s silent judgment. With the children now assembled, Hieronymus stepped forward.

“Blessed Apostle of our god, we thank you for bestowing your blessings upon these children. May we praise this joy and offer eternal glory to our god. May the future forever be filled with hope.”

Delivering this closing statement, Hieronymus led the children out of the room.

Wide’s transformation intrigued me. The variations in how each person responded to my power were fascinating. There was much to analyze—for both Hieronymus and me.

In any case, the first objective was accomplished: harvester count +3!

Now, it was time to observe the changes.