The Future Hope Sect

The Future Hope Sect—its name belonged to a pseudo-religion built by distorting a primitive faith.

And now, that pseudo-religion burned fervently with unbridled zeal.

This was because, up until now, they had never witnessed a true miracle with their own eyes.

Of course, the members of the sect were aware of the legend—that it appeared to the most despairing individuals and granted them ultimate revenge.

There were even scattered survivors who claimed to have seen the dark purple flames. However, witnessing such phenomena in an accessible form, especially within the sect, was a first.

No matter how pseudo the religion.

No matter how thorough the brainwashing.

Even if the sect used methods like creating deliberate psychological damage to drive people into madness through what they called "gaslighting,"

Not everyone would lose their reason completely and transform into raving fanatics.

Thus, when the event to offer sacrifices and receive blessings was announced, some members were deeply disgusted.

Even so, did it really have to involve offering someone as a sacrifice?

It was inevitable that some members would question this. Even though they had fallen into this pseudo-religion, not everyone relished grotesque acts of murder.

And when the event began, their disgust reached its peak.

The leader, Hieronymus, had presented a girl he called the "Apostle." She appeared utterly ordinary.

If there were anything unusual about her, it would be her violet hair—almost unheard of in the region—and her disproportionately large chest for her frame.

But when those Hieronymus selected as recipients of blessings approached the Apostle, the revulsion of the sect members reached its limit.

They offered their infant as a sacrifice. A newborn child, no less.

Such an act defied sanity.

Even to the perspective of a pseudo-religious devotee, laughing as one offered their child as a sacrifice was an act steeped in unadulterated madness.

No one could call such a thing right. If anyone did, they would be no more than a beast in human skin.

At least, that was the case—until the girl rose.

The infants offered as sacrifices transformed into hideous monsters.

And the couple who received the blessing emerged greatly improved in appearance, stronger than before, and even gained special abilities.

Above all, there was the dark purple mist.

Those in the know, knew.

They knew what form the miracles wrought by their deity took.

They could not mistake its color.

This legend had floated through the world for so long that no one could recall when it first began.

There was a force that moved for the lowest of the low.

Thus, when it appeared before their very eyes, even though it did not feel especially grand or terrifying, the sect members instinctively assumed that everything they had believed until now was true.

Among those with knowledge of magic, there was suspicion at first. Yet, they soon concluded that such acts were beyond mere magic.

If a magic powerful enough to twist bodies so completely existed, surely they would have felt its presence at that moment.

Reason itself certified the Apostle’s authority.

Just one infant.

That alone was enough to change a person—to grant them immense strength, beauty, and extraordinary abilities.

It was a miracle.

A miracle that swept away all prior injustices and allowed them to start anew. This realization circulated among the people, igniting a fervor that soon spiraled into zealotry.

No matter how much they feigned rationality, the sect was filled with those who had fallen far, victims burdened with the necklace of despair. If they could remove that necklace, there was nothing they wouldn’t do.

Reason and the barest shreds of morality lost all significance in that moment.

If one could improve, who would cling to such trivial things?

The presence of others like them drove them further into madness. It was like crossing a red light without fear because others were doing the same.

The more people shared the responsibility, the more the responsibility disappeared.

The final justification was this:

"As long as it’s not me."

Such self-serving logic dismantled the weapon called society, regressing humanity to a state even below the primitive. It was a fall not just into barbarism, but into the level of beasts.

And, as in ancient religions, they identified a target onto whom they could displace their sacrifices, learning what they could gain in return.

The sacrificial rites.

In truth, such practices were not uncommon. If anything, their absence was the anomaly. Intelligence naturally led to their creation.

It happened in schools all the time. There was always someone in power, someone in the middle, and someone sacrificed. Such structures arose naturally, without instruction.

These sacrificial rites continued until the victim’s life ended, at which point a new victim was sought.

Here, morality played no role.

For the strong, law and morality served as shields, preventing the weak from banding together to overthrow them.

For the mediocre, morality was unnecessary—they only needed to turn a blind eye to reap the benefits of survival.

For the victims, law and morality were worthless, tools designed to uphold the society that created them as sacrifices in the first place.

There would always be those shunned in society—shamans, witches, butchers, executioners—people who dealt in death, shunned and scorned to reinforce the community’s rules.

Even though their roles were essential for the community to function.

Thus, it wasn’t hard for the members of this pseudo-religion to shed their last vestiges of morality.

Sacrifice someone, and you could receive a blessing.

The gates of hell had opened.

Everyone began walking toward the abyss of despair.

Even though law and morality were supposed to prevent such acts and foster a better world,

They were originally created to restrain the powerful and protect the weak.

Morality should have forced people to stop such abhorrent acts, guiding them toward a better life.

But ideals and reality were not the same. The most fatal flaw was that these systems were used by humans, not gods.

Corruption was easy. It was pleasurable, even exhilarating.

No, the Future Hope Sect had crossed an irreversible line the moment they sacrificed a living, breathing girl.

Corruption had already seeped in long ago; now, it wasn’t mere corruption—it was outright decay.

Zealotry consumed the Future Hope Sect.

At first, two were blessed.

Two days later, three more.

Soon, three people were being blessed every day.

The number of people dwindled. But the Future Hope Sect had virtually no horizontal connections, meaning the loss of individuals was imperceptible.

All they could see were the smiling faces of those who had been blessed.

These individuals were beautiful, powerful, and, in some cases, exhibited supernatural abilities.

And anyone could achieve the same—by offering a sacrifice.

The brakes on this madness had failed long ago.

The sect members now lived their days eagerly searching for or creating the next sacrifice in hopes of receiving blessings.

Hieronymus, observing the depraved chaos of his pseudo-religion, felt nothing. After all, this was always a tool for his purposes.

If it served him, all the better.

And so Hieronymus decided to amplify the frenzy consuming the Future Hope Sect.

He demonstrated a miracle.

A sect member who had completed a special mission but lost both arms and legs was brought before the congregation. Rebecca was tasked with granting a blessing without requiring a sacrifice.

Of course, Hieronymus still believed sacrifices were necessary for blessings, so he had secretly prepared a sacrifice elsewhere.

Thus, the severely disabled cultist, like Joanna before him, received a blessing. His arms and legs regenerated. Although, unlike Joanna’s pale complexion, his skin turned a vivid blue.

Hieronymus announced that those who devoted themselves to the sect would receive even greater blessings.

He encouraged them to dedicate themselves to the sect’s cause.

Those who succeeded and returned alive, no matter their injuries, could be restored.

He created an environment where anyone would gladly accept his orders.

Missions that risked death. Assignments in regions rife with persecution.

The Future Hope Sect had always been a gathering of those who had given up and despaired. It had been difficult to motivate them to act.

But now, with their lacking motivation filled,

Tasks that had previously seemed impossible were completed with ease.

By carrying out Hieronymus’ orders, blessings awaited.

Of course, he claimed these were the desires of their god, deceiving the believers. In truth, they were his commands.

Commands meant to fulfill Yasle’s quest for vengeance.

With newfound power, the sect began expanding rapidly.

What had once been a modest, inconspicuous religion grew into an organization that led its blessed members into battle to expand its influence.

Their newfound strength was remarkable.

Even an ordinary person, once blessed, could take on a hundred foes alone.

And occasionally, an extraordinary blessing would manifest.

A single individual would gain the power to face thousands—tens of thousands—even entire armies.

One such individual was Wide, a man blessed early on and now renowned within the sect.

The violet flames he wielded burned through both physical forces and magical barriers alike.

With his inflated ego, Wide began to seek something special to distinguish himself. He coined the title Jaeyom, “Violet Flame,” and added it to his name.

Jaeyom Wide.

Hieronymus, internally mocking him, allowed it. Special recognition was one of the strongest motivators for human action, after all.

As expected, Wide began organizing his own following. Among them, the most exceptional individuals dedicated themselves to becoming stronger and carrying out his orders faithfully.

Hieronymus saw his long-standing plans gradually taking shape.

Meanwhile, Yasle sharpened the blade of vengeance, forged from hatred.

Since Rebecca Rolf had become the vessel for an outer god, the Future Hope Sect had begun to change.

An outer god was pure and controllable.

The Future Hope Sect moved exactly as Yasle desired.

To Yasle, everything seemed perfect.