The snow was especially heavy this Christmas, but thankfully one of the Church's mages was clearing the path ahead. Under the cover of magic, it wasn't all that cold.
"Master..."
The girl in the black dress behind Luxford suddenly grabbed the hem of his coat. Her golden eyes were full of fear, and she kept stealing glances at the Church members around them.
She wore a long black chiffon dress that covered everything down to her ankles, which were wrapped in black tights. Her silver-white hair fell in soft curls, almost completely covering her back.
In her heels, she was nearly as tall as Luxford.
"It's okay. I'm right here."
Luxford took her hand, and the warmth of his body flowed through his palm into hers, gradually calming her down.
The girl's name was Nepheli. She was a witch. She'd met Luxford twelve years ago, right after he'd transmigrated here, so her fear made perfect sense: the Church hated witches even more than they hated demons. And their destination today was the Church itself.
Today was the day the Church of Abundance held the Abundance Festival. It only happened once every twelve years and was the Church's grandest event. Everyone had to attend, which was exactly why Luxford had risked bringing a witch along.
Witches were basically the most perfect beings in existence. Every single one had flawless beauty, incredible natural talent, and their aging froze at their physical peak.
If Luxford hadn't held such a high position, Nepheli's looks alone would've given her away in a heartbeat.
The festival itself was pretty straightforward: during the hymns, the chosen sacrifice would birth tens of thousands of twisted children for the God of Abundance. Yeah, you heard that right. Tens of thousands. Birthed. The God of Abundance was supposedly a Righteous God, but he was more twisted than a lot of the Evil Gods. That was the most messed-up thing about this world: whether they were Righteous Gods, Evil Gods, or Outer Gods, none of them were normal.
This was also Luxford's twelfth year since transmigrating into this world. It was based on a game called "Hymn of the Apocalypse," and Luxford had been a diehard fan. He'd even written lyrics and done cover songs for the game's music.
When he first arrived twelve years ago, Luxford had nothing. All his stats were rock bottom, and he had no way to level up.
But this festival was the perfect opportunity. The fastest way to gain strength was through sacrifice, especially sacrificing to Outer Gods. The God of Abundance's children were hands down the best offerings, which was why he was willing to risk everything to attend this festival. He'd already tampered with the altar ahead of time.
In the game, there was a character known as "Master," incredibly knowledgeable and able to help newcomers. When Luxford went looking for her, he realized his timeline was off. The Master hadn't arrived yet. So he scraped by as a street performer, made decent money ripping off, er, covering songs from his old world, picked up a side gig as a music teacher, and used his encyclopedic game knowledge to answer people's questions. It wasn't until people started calling him "Master" that it hit him: he'd accidentally become the Master character from the game.
As for the real Master... she was currently working as a maid in Luxford's house.
Luxford knew the game's story and lore inside and out, so there was no way he'd spent these twelve years doing nothing. Today was the day everything changed.
"Master, I'm hungry."
A pale little hand grabbed Luxford's other arm and started shaking it. The girl's pink twin-tails bounced along with the motion. She wore a gothic dress, and the bit of leg peeking out below was wrapped in white stockings. Her little face was fair with a rosy flush and a touch of baby fat, and her bright pink eyes stared right at Luxford. But he was long used to this.
"Eating, eating, always eating, can't you use your brain for once?"
"Brain? Where's the brain? Can I eat it?"
Looking at her adorable cluelessness, Luxford couldn't help but bonk her on the head.
It was hard to imagine that one day she'd become one of the Seven Sins, the Gluttony Witch, one of the strongest bosses in the entire game. But Luxford could understand how it happened. Nepheli had found her as a baby, and the two of them showed up on Luxford's doorstep one snowy night asking for help. The girl didn't even have a name. "Renna" was something Luxford came up with on the spot. It wasn't until she grew up that he recognized who she really was.
The reason she was called the Gluttony Witch was simple: she loved to eat, and she loved to kill. Killing was as natural to her as eating, just another way to satisfy her urges, and her appetite only grew over time.
But so far, the most bitter thing Renna had ever tasted was black coffee. Her life had turned out completely different from the game, and the real root of her descent into darkness had been her sister's death. Right now, her sister was alive and well, right by Luxford's side.
Witches lived long lives but had simple hearts. They were fiercely loyal and deeply emotional. They wouldn't have gone dark if they hadn't been pushed to the breaking point, but this insane world would devour everyone without discrimination.
Just how innocent were these witches? Even the Lust Witch, one of the Seven Sins, was a total blank slate. Witches were born with several blessings, and one of them made it impossible for anyone to have impure thoughts about them.
Now, someone might ask: witches live that long, look that good, and they're that innocent? Isn't that a little unrealistic?
Fair point. Transmigration is real, magic is real, gods are real, but pure love? Now that's unrealistic.
"We've arrived. Master, please lead the ritual."
The Church's clergyman was draped in straw from head to toe, with fresh sprouts growing from it, making his face impossible to see. This was a way of drawing closer to the divine: it provided the god with more faith, and in return, the god granted more power.
That's why these people were called "strawmen." Strawmen were the guardians of the wheat fields and the messengers of the God of Abundance.
Nobody went inside the church. Too many people had come for the festival, the building couldn't hold them all. They'd set up an altar outside instead. A massive crowd packed in around it, but even so, a clear path had been left open for Luxford.
From start to finish, Luxford was treated like royalty. Church members had come to his home to escort him personally. The best spot closest to the altar had been reserved for him, complete with instruments. He was running the entire ceremony, after all: he was the one who'd provided them with more effective hymns. Because of that, his standing in the Church rivaled that of a bishop.
"Let's begin, Master."
The white-robed boy on the altar stood barefoot on the runes etched into the ground. He straightened his clothes and bowed to Luxford.
He was the sacrifice.
Nobody noticed that the runes on the altar had been altered. Nobody except Luxford, the one who'd done it. With his position, pulling it off had been easy.
The boy knew what was coming. Most of the people here knew what was about to happen. They'd grown numb to it. Ironically, it was Luxford's way of thinking that they would've found abnormal.
"Mm."
You can't save people who don't want to be saved. Luxford had no intention of rescuing them and then patting himself on the back for it.
Standing front and center, Luxford raised his conductor's baton. Under his direction, a solemn hymn began to play. Hundreds of thousands of voices sang in unison like machines, all chanting the same song. The white-robed boy danced gracefully atop the altar.
As the song went on, the boy's steps grew clumsy. Roots began pushing through the pores of his skin, burrowing into the altar below, eventually pinning him in place.
Branches made of flesh and blood tore through the boy's scalp, growing at terrifying speed. In seconds they were as thick as a bowl, their surfaces pitted and uneven. As they kept growing, those pits expanded too, and that's when you could see they were faces.
The branches grew into a towering tree. The countless faces covering it became clearer, features emerging on the trunk, branches, leaves, all identical faces. The eye sockets were empty. The mouths strained open, tearing apart fused lips, and began singing hymns. Tens of thousands of mouths in perfect unison, eerily synchronized. The sound was deafening. Luxford, standing closest, could feel his brain vibrating.
Each face represented a devout believer. A single tree of flesh was the equivalent of nearly a hundred thousand followers, providing the god with a staggering amount of faith. The God of Abundance never lacked for believers, so he didn't care how many starved to death. In his eyes, a living farmer was worth exactly the same as a face on the tree.
The ritual reached its climax. Blood-red moonlight engulfed the entire world, making the blood pouring from the boy's eyes, ears, nose, and mouth blur into the crimson haze.
It was time. Luxford's face was hidden beneath the hood of his black robe as he whispered:
"God of Greed, Pluton of the Devouring Abyss, I offer you every believer upon this altar. Grant me mana and the blessing of Disillusionment."
The moment Luxford spoke the Outer God's true name, the hidden runes on the altar began to glow faintly. Then the starlight exploded into brilliance, and its pale white radiance swallowed the blood-red moonlight whole.