Chapter 128

Religion.

The modern world was in the midst of an unusual religious fervour.

In the aftermath of the unprecedented catastrophe known as the Dungeon Shock, countless people had begun searching for something—anything—in which they could find comfort.

“Oh, gods in heaven. Please, I beg you. Please...”

“Lord, watch over my family.”

“We survived through the grace of Buddha. You should offer your prayers to Buddha as well.”

Humanity had used faith as a weapon in its struggle against monsters.

Hope.

Sometimes, believing and enduring were enough.

In that sense, religion had made a significant contribution to humanity’s survival during the recent Dungeon Shock.

Strangely, however, the opposite had begun to happen as well.

More and more people were dying because of that very faith.

“Tsk, tsk. Do you know why your son was bitten by a monster? It’s because misfortune clings to your fate.”

“Misfortune?”

“That’s right! If you don’t perform the ritual immediately, that daughter of yours will be devoured next!”

A great mage had once described the beings responsible for creating the Gates with a particular word.

Gisimche.

Heart-cravers.

Creatures forever hungry for the hearts of others.

Yet the truth was that the Gisimche were not the only beings in this world who fed upon human hearts.

Modern Korea was steeped in chaos and crawling with fraudsters.

And among them, no organisation had grown more voracious than one particular cult.

“—You must cast away every piece of filthy money you have earned in this world! Everyone, dedicate all your possessions to the Goddess of Rakshasa and undergo the purification ritual! Only then will you be spared from future suffering!”

At a time when so many had lost everything precious to them in the Dungeon Shock, the Rakshasa Temple presented itself as a warm and compassionate saviour.

Its members claimed to understand the pain of the bereaved because they had suffered the same losses.

They reached out relentlessly, ensuring that those who had lost family members were never left alone.

In a cold society where people had nowhere else to turn, where could anyone find another community that offered such warmth?

“Brother, it’s wonderful to see you again today. Be sure to return tomorrow and pray with us.”

“Yes!”

Yet beneath the Rakshasa Temple’s gentle benevolence writhed maggots no different from the heart-craving entities themselves.

Desperation.

Grief.

Anxiety.

They were parasites born from disaster, feeding on the anguish of others.

“Sniff... If we donate everything we own... if we truly abandon our filthy greed, will we never suffer again?”

“Will my parents really recover?”

What difference was there between such people and the heart-cravers?

And did a faith this corrupt deserve to survive?

***

Tuesday.

Two men were speaking in a shabby corridor.

“Have you collected all of this month’s prayer donations?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent work. The Apostle has been paying close attention to the performance of this prayer hall lately.”

“Really?”

The Rakshasa Temple maintained an elaborate hierarchy.

Excluding the positions of cult leader and Apostle, which could not be attained through promotion, the highest rank was that of Great Teacher.

The young man standing in the corridor was on the verge of receiving that title.

“Then please continue your good work, Mr. Heo.”

Mr. Heo was the title by which the young man was known within the Rakshasa Temple.

“Yes! Please take care of me!”

Mr. Heo had been working tirelessly to earn his promotion to Great Teacher.

If he could deliver just a little more money in offerings to the higher-ups, he would finally become an executive himself.

‘I’m almost there.’

‘Just a little more.’

There had recently been frequent disturbances both within and outside the organisation, including the arrest of the cult leader.

However, the prayer-hall overseer firmly believed that it was all the work of Satan.

The leader was merely undergoing a divine trial and would soon be resurrected and return.

Why?

Because that was what the higher-ranking members had told him.

‘I simply need to perform my duties.’

And so Mr. Heo resumed his efforts to squeeze donations from the believers.

“Ah, Sister! Have you been waiting long?”

Fortunately, the newly indoctrinated members had brought in a respectable amount of money this time.

One woman in particular had lost her husband during the Dungeon Break the previous August.

She was timid, credulous, and easy to manipulate. Merely mentioning her child’s name was enough to make her pay whatever sum was demanded, whether for rituals, talismans, or donations.

“Please ensure that my son prospers, Goddess of Rakshasa...”

Then Wednesday arrived.

Cheap, brightly coloured cloths had been tied between the branches of the trees.

A gong stood in the centre of the clearing.

A young man dressed in an ornate hanbok moved among the ritual objects.

Mr. Heo had climbed the mountain early that morning to prepare the complicated arrangement.

The place was the ancestral burial ground of the new believer’s family.

Today, a ritual would be held on their behalf.

Ritual fee: fifty million won.

Talisman fee: three million won.

And six hundred thousand won every Saturday.

At the Rakshasa Temple, money seemed to disappear with every breath.

Compared with the life of one’s child, however, such expenses appeared insignificant.

“I pray. I pray.”

The elderly believer repeated the words without pause, placing absolute faith in the ritual prepared by the Rakshasa Temple.

Please let my son succeed.

Please protect my son...

“Hey!”

At that moment, a large man came charging toward them from the opposite side.

His face was flushed with rage, and the instant he reached the gravesite, he shouted at the top of his lungs.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“S-son?”

“Mother! I told you not to trust these people! I specifically told you not to perform any rituals!”

That was the terrifying power of money.

Even the gentlest person could turn into a raging demon after being swindled out of fifty million won.

“You! Give the money back right now, you scum! How dare you trick an elderly woman into paying for this absurd ritual!”

The believer’s son seized Mr. Heo by the collar.

“Oh dear. I specifically told you not to inform your family of the ritual date. Their interference invites misfortune.”

Despite the man’s fury, Mr. Heo remained perfectly calm.

After all, he possessed something remarkable—an object capable of resolving situations exactly like this.

“What nonsense are you spouting, you fraud?”

Whoosh.

Mr. Heo reached into his pocket and held out the [Eyes of Temptation].

The believer’s son blinked rapidly.

Then his knees gave way, and he collapsed to the ground.

It was a mysterious power ordinary people could never resist.

Surely, just as the doctrine taught, Gates truly were a blessing.

Had the Dungeon Shock not occurred, how could people like Mr. Heo have enjoyed such comfortable lives?

“Son!”

“Tsk. How annoying.”

The female believer rushed toward them.

Mr. Heo brainwashed her as well, then brushed the dust from his clothes and rose to his feet.

Those under the influence of an item found it almost impossible to perform complicated actions.

That made tasks such as bank transfers extremely inconvenient.

‘Still, the offering I received this time should be enough to cover my payment to the higher-ups.’

‘I suppose that will have to do for now.’

Mr. Heo glanced at the brainwashed mother and son.

There was not a trace of guilt in his eyes.

His mind was filled with nothing but money.

Money.

Money.

Money.

His only concern was how to deceive even more people.

“Everyone, the prayer is over. Clear everything away.”

“Yes, Master!”

“Yes!”

And so Mr. Heo left behind the family he had drained dry and descended the mountain with a light step.

—Squeak.

Yet something was strange.

The weather had grown warmer, but the ground remained frozen.

And had there always been so many rats on this mountain?

***

Not long afterward—

‘Finally!’

Mr. Heo arrived before an abandoned factory in the countryside, his heart overflowing with joy.

Today was the day he would be promoted to Great Teacher.

More importantly, becoming a formal officer of the cult meant that he would receive the honour of meeting Su Yehwi, one of the organisation’s highest-ranking figures.

After all, the title of Teacher was personally bestowed by the Apostle.

‘Now I won’t have to struggle with missionary work anymore.’

‘I’ll be able to devote myself peacefully to studying the doctrine.’

‘The money will come in on its own.’

Click.

Rejoicing in his success, Mr. Heo opened the iron door.

Someone inside slowly turned to face him.

The figure had pure white hair and wore a translucent raincoat entirely unsuited to the weather.

“You arrived quickly.”

It was Su Yehwi.

At last, Mr. Heo had come face-to-face with the being known as the Apostle.

‘Oh!’

He had heard that the police outside were attempting to capture the innocent Apostle.

The moment he stepped into the factory, however, he understood why Su Yehwi had remained beyond their reach.

“Are all those [Infinite Power Cores]?”

The items were stacked like a mountain.

Each one might have been worth tens of billions of won.

It appeared Su Yehwi had used them to secure his hiding place.

Barriers capable of blocking magic, combined with the strategic placement of the cores.

This new method of evading tracking abilities had been discovered earlier that year and had already become widely known among criminals.

“As expected of the Apostle. Did you foresee this development and prepare for it in advance?”

No answer came.

Su Yehwi merely looked at him with a quiet smile.

“Mr. Heo, I would like to ask you something.”

Su Yehwi then posed several questions.

“Once you are promoted to Teacher, will you be capable of abandoning all greed?”

“Yes?”

“Will you continue serving the faith even if you receive none of the donation money?”

Mr. Heo immediately replied that he would do anything for the church.

Naturally, he could continue.

“Truly?”

“Then does that mean I never need to give you another penny?”

For some reason, Mr. Heo found it difficult to answer this time.

In truth, the rank of Great Teacher resembled the diamond tier of a multilevel marketing company.

It was the position through which the largest volume of donations flowed.

“W-well, if you truly mean not even a single penny...”

For a moment, bewilderment showed plainly on his face.

Su Yehwi did not miss it.

“How curious.”

“Everyone reacts exactly the same way when money is mentioned.”

Those were the final words Mr. Heo heard from Su Yehwi.

The next instant, his vision spun.

His consciousness flickered and disappeared.

“This is why education is so difficult.”

“To sustain the church, we must teach people the importance of money.”

“But when we do, we produce greedy Teachers like this.”

Su Yehwi muttered in disappointment and activated the [Brainwashing] skill.

Turning another person into a puppet was a simple matter for him.

In fact, he could dominate even a high-level A-rank Awakened in an instant.

It was an extraordinary talent.

Ever since awakening, Su Yehwi had manipulated everyone he encountered according to his own desires.

“Hmm.”

Recently, however, even Su Yehwi had faced problems that refused to unfold as planned.

The failed assassination of a certain politician.

The exposure of his collusion with Assemblyman Kim.

And who could have expected the cult leader of the Rakshasa Temple to be arrested as a consequence?

“Haah. If the assassination target’s security hadn’t been so strong, I would have dealt with Yu Inhyang by now.”

“And how did the police prevent the arrested members from killing themselves?”

Even the shaman had claimed ignorance regarding the date of their deaths.

Su Yehwi’s plans had failed spectacularly because of factors he had never anticipated.

Furthermore, Tak Kwangjo—the man positioned as the cult leader—had now been captured.

The Rakshasa Temple did not have much time left.

For the moment, Su Yehwi had forced the organisation to change its name in order to artificially prolong its existence.

But with the puppet who had played the cult leader removed, how much longer could this territory survive?

“The world is never simple.”

“It won’t be easy to find a replacement for Tak Kwangjo immediately.”

Aware of this, Su Yehwi had been forcibly brainwashing the Great Teachers and squeezing donations from them.

Money was repulsive.

But what choice was there?

Ironically, saving a world this vast required an equally vast amount of money.

A setback of this scale was not enough to discourage Su Yehwi.

Just as someone had suspected, the true master of the cult was the brainwasher who remained hidden in the shadows.

Changing the organisation’s name was easy.

He could simply brainwash someone else and install that person as the next scapegoat.

“There are already fifteen.”

Su Yehwi smiled with satisfaction as he surveyed the endless rows of power cores arranged neatly across the factory floor.

Then—

—Rustle.

A faint sound came from an empty corner of the factory.

‘Hmm?’

Su Yehwi instinctively turned toward the source.

There was only a single mouse.

Without hesitation, he hurled a dagger at the moving creature.

As expected of a high-level Awakened, his physical abilities were exceptional.

Whoosh!

The dagger struck the animal squarely through the torso.

“A mouse.”

Su Yehwi approached the creature and lifted it from the ground.

The dagger remained embedded in its body.

Its tiny life had already ended.

But—

Wasn’t it far too cold for something that had only just died?

“...!”

Only then did the Awakened in the raincoat realise what was happening.

“Mr. Heo, you pathetic insect! What did you bring in here...?”

There was no time to blame anyone.

Something entered the factory.

‘A box?’

Clatter.

Roll.

A red box the size of a person’s palm rolled through the half-open factory door.

Then its lid began to tremble, as though something inside were about to force its way out.