As Andrew walked away from Rebecca, the two individuals Hieronymus had assigned to monitor her approached him.

At first glance, it seemed they intended to apprehend Andrew for approaching their target without authorization. However, instead of restraining him, the two men bowed their heads respectfully. Andrew casually tapped each of them on the shoulder before continuing on his way.

Why? Because the two were more loyal to Andrew than to Hieronymus.

While they held the same rank as warriors of the sect, there was a distinct difference: these two had become Andrew’s subordinates.

Of course, this didn’t mean they didn’t believe in the Future Hope Sect.

They shared faith in the same god, lived for the sect, and were willing to do anything for it.

The only difference lay in whom they pledged their loyalty to.

It was similar to factions within a corporation, where some align with one leader and others with another.

In a typical well-run cult that systematically breaks individuals down, such splits would rarely occur. Hieronymus, having adopted a tested and proven system, had ensured no significant flaws in its design.

But even a flawless system falters when the people using it become the problem.

By focusing solely on expanding the Future Hope Sect, Hieronymus had neglected internal management, creating cracks in the foundation.

These fractures should have been smoothed over with time, unified into a singular voice. However, Hieronymus lacked the time for such efforts. To him, the Future Hope Sect was merely a tool to be exploited and discarded. Trusting no one, he had let control slip.

And it was through these cracks that Andrew deftly inserted himself.

Andrew had once founded his own religion, using his innate charisma and cunning to gather followers among the despairing. Even after his religion was absorbed into the Future Hope Sect, it was unrealistic to expect his followers to abandon their faith overnight.

Andrew had joined the Future Hope Sect with the ambition of commanding a greater religion. True to his desires, he had begun maneuvering to claim control over the rapidly expanding sect.

But the sudden emergence of Rebecca—a monster in human form—had thrown all his plans into chaos.

If Rebecca were merely a powerful beast, she wouldn’t have posed such a threat.

But this creature granted blessings, offering tangible, formidable powers in exchange for loyalty. Visible evidence of devotion was dangerous.

If Rebecca’s blessings were exclusive to Hieronymus, Andrew’s position could become untenable, forcing him to seek drastic measures.

Between Andrew, who could offer nothing, and Hieronymus, who bestowed blessings, it was clear whom people would follow in the current situation.

Thus, Andrew had urgently sought contact with Rebecca.

And what he heard greatly pleased him: provide sacrifices, and she would grant blessings. She made it clear that she would ally with whoever could supply more sacrifices.

Andrew now saw Rebecca as a terrifying but invaluable monster—a force he could harness to supplant Hieronymus while maintaining the sect’s cohesion.

Even better, Rebecca was bound to her human body. From her own words, Andrew understood that she wasn’t an entirely transcendent being but rather one tethered to physical limitations.

If necessary, she could be killed.

With this understanding, Andrew began calculating, weighing the benefits of controlling Rebecca against eliminating her entirely, all with the aim of reclaiming the Future Hope Sect from Hieronymus.

The scales tipped in favor of gaining control over Rebecca.

Her blessings were too enticing to pass up.

On top of that, Andrew realized that there might be another way to obtain blessings without directly confronting Hieronymus.

With thousands of followers, it would be nearly impossible to keep track of all those who received blessings. As time passed, Andrew planned to ensure his subordinates received blessings.

But only his subordinates.

Andrew had no intention of receiving a blessing himself.

To accept a blessing from such a monster and potentially become one himself? The thought was absurd.

Fundamentally, Andrew didn’t believe Rebecca was connected to the god he worshiped. He saw her as a creature summoned by Hieronymus through some bizarre occult ritual.

Unfortunately for Andrew, his analysis was wrong, even though it was the god he worshiped who had ultimately been summoned.

Still, this mistake wasn’t entirely his fault. Strictly speaking, a manipulative force had twisted the truth.

That entity, if confronted, would likely claim it had only spoken facts.

Yet it had deceived deliberately, knowing how its words would be interpreted.

And so, while schemes and betrayals multiplied, the Future Hope Sect began its slow descent down a slippery slope—an unstoppable tumble until the end.

Meanwhile, Tischa

Having fled the Future Hope Sect, Tischa traversed southward through the jungles of the Cogni Kingdom. From there, he headed southeast, moving further away from the sect’s influence.

Driven by a desperate need to escape, he pressed on relentlessly until he reached a small village.

For three days and nights, his body pushed forward, impervious to fatigue or injury. Any wounds that might have slowed him healed instantly. Diseases and ailments couldn’t overpower his regenerative abilities. Even insects that tried to feast on him found their efforts futile; his body healed faster than they could inflict damage.

Bloodsucking pests couldn’t inject their saliva into his skin, and those that managed to feed disintegrated into dark purple sludge almost instantly.

With such a body, Tischa crossed the jungle with little difficulty.

Gradually, the dense jungle began to give way. The oppressive humidity lessened, the trees thinned, and the ground grew firmer underfoot.

The jungle transitioned into a forest.

More precisely, Tischa had emerged from the southern jungles of the Cogni Kingdom into the northern reaches of the Ansellus Kingdom.

There, he faced a choice.

Up ahead, he saw nine men burdened with heavy packs. They were dragging along a young girl who was clearly being held against her will. It was obvious at a glance that they were bandits, and she was their unfortunate victim.

If Tischa had any sense, he would have fled the scene.

Tischa didn’t avoid the bandits because he couldn’t defeat them. No, his strength far surpassed theirs. The problem was his appearance—his purple hair, now effectively a symbol of the Future Hope Sect. After receiving a blessing, his hair had transformed, leaving undeniable evidence of his connection to the sect.

But Tischa, by nature, couldn’t stand to see others suffer.

It was his curse.

Had he lacked such a disposition, he might have stayed in the sect, exploiting its systems despite his awareness of its twisted nature. In that case, calling his altruism a curse would be meaningless.

After all, the moment he began to question the sect was when someone close to him was sacrificed in the name of their god.

And so, Tischa moved to save the girl before him.

The mere fact that Tischa had a regenerative ability so advanced that even a stab wound would heal before the blade could properly pierce made these bandits no match for him. Adding to that, he was trained in combat from a young age and had extensive real-world experience.

Thus, he easily drove the bandits away.

He didn’t kill them; his innate kindness wouldn’t allow it.

As a bonus, he recovered not only the girl but also the stolen goods—and everything the bandits owned.

With the girl, he returned to her village.

Had he only saved the girl, he would have received their gratitude. But by bringing back the stolen goods as well, Tischa became a hero to the village.

For a week.

One week was all it took for Tischa to experience a life of normalcy, something he had never known.

A wooden house. An adult man and woman. The girl he had saved.

It was almost idyllic, so much so that Tischa wondered if he could become part of this family.

But as always, his misfortune would not allow such peace to last.

The fragile normalcy he had barely begun to taste was shattered in an instant.

Why?

Because of his purple hair.

The Future Hope Sect identified him and came to "help."

As mentioned before, purple hair had long since become synonymous with the sect. Once ordinary believers in masks and hoods, those blessed with extraordinary powers now openly flaunted their identities with luxurious attire.

They did not hide.

This shift was exacerbated by a boy who had driven the trend further.

Special individuals with exceptional abilities received special titles.

This desire for recognition, combined with the thirst for power, naturally created such results.

Hieronymus, recognizing the exponential growth of the sect, encouraged this system. By directing only the blessed individuals, he could avoid micromanaging the masses while maintaining order.

Thus, the sect had come to revolve around those with purple hair.

In essence, purple hair became synonymous with power within the sect.

Appearance and authority merged, leading believers to passionately follow those with purple hair.

Why? Because following them meant rewards.

Do you remember when I mentioned that the sect liberated oppressed villages?

This "liberation" had become an expectation. Over time, the narrative reversed: every nonbeliever’s village became a place to be "liberated" by the sect.

Of course, liberation meant forcibly converting everyone in the village and destroying everything else.

Like the fall of the Yellow Turbans in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, the sect had turned into raiders indiscriminately pillaging their surroundings.

And so, raiders armed with religious fervor came to the village. How did they find it?

The bandits Tischa had spared.

Following their account, the Future Hope Sect arrived and thoroughly looted the village.

If not for his purple hair, this tragedy might not have unfolded so quickly.

Yet, that same transformation had allowed Tischa to escape the sect.

Luck was in his hands, but misfortune dogged his every step.

Tischa fought valiantly but couldn’t save the village from the overwhelming number of sect members.

When he regained his senses, he realized he had failed.

Everyone was dead.

Tischa held the cold hand of the girl he had saved, fueling his desire for vengeance. He swore revenge against the Future Hope Sect.

For Tischa, whose only thought had been to escape, a new goal emerged.

After burying all the corpses, he began walking eastward again.

But unlike when he first fled the sect, there was no joy in his newfound freedom. Instead, his rage against the sect filled the void.

He set his sights on the heart of the Ansellus Kingdom.

 

Rebecca’s Observation

Hehe.

This is fascinating!

It’s like watching the birth of a hero!

The story of someone gaining extraordinary power in a perilous place and becoming a hero is a familiar one. But seeing it unfold firsthand is mesmerizing.

Stories rarely align with reality. So, witnessing it directly was thrilling.

I experienced it through Tischa’s perspective.

Though I couldn’t know his exact thoughts, I could interpret the physical sensations: the changes in his expressions, the pounding of his heart, the ache of his body.

Yes. I know he’s driven by revenge.

And now, he’s heading for the Ansellus Kingdom.

The Future Hope Sect, led by Hieronymus.
The Ansellus Kingdom, his sworn enemy.
And now, Tischa, an enemy of the sect, is walking straight into the fray.

I’ll wait patiently in my corner of the Future Hope Sect for the moment when their wills collide and reality shifts.

But if I wait too long, Andrew might oust Hieronymus and take over the sect.

Regardless of how things unfold, I’ll focus on acquiring the summoning technique that brought me to this world. For now, I’ll live like a carefree pet, unconcerned with the world.

Hehe.