The Birth of the Hans Cult
"Haa... haa..." The air inside the abandoned shrine hung thick and damp, like a steamy sauna. A sour mix of night-blooming flowers and the sharp tang of bodily fluids assaulted the nose. Sprawled across the altar were two women: Inquisitor Lucia and the silver knight Karen. Both elites lay with their eyes rolled back, mouths slack, bodies twitching in aftershocks.
"I... lost..." Karen mumbled nonsense, tongue lolling out. Lucia had completely passed out, not moving an inch.
Caught between them, Hans looked utterly wrecked. His hair was matted with the holy water Karen had sprayed, and his face glistened with Lucia's concentrated turbid energy. I almost died.
Hans clutched his trembling legs and forced himself upright. His tongue had lost all sensation. His jaw throbbed as if it might dislocate. If Karen shouted "One more time!" or Lucia woke up demanding "There's still turbid energy left!", he felt his sense of taste might never return.
I have to run. His survival instinct blared alarms. He hastily straightened his clothes and descended from the altar. Wiping the sticky residue from his mouth with his sleeve did nothing to erase the bitter aftertaste.
"Mmm..." At that moment, Lucia stirred. Hans froze, holding his breath. Fortunately, she only muttered in her sleep and sank back into deep slumber.
This was his chance. Hans crept toward the shrine entrance like a thief in the night. Creak. He carefully pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped outside. Fresh air rushed in.
"Huu... haaah..." He felt alive again. The clammy stench trapped in his lungs seemed to wash away. But the relief was short-lived.
"You're coming out!" The priestesses guarding the entrance bowed their heads in unison toward Hans. Their eyes sparkled with curiosity and reverence. They had heard every raw sound from inside in real time—the desperate screams, the "No, not there!", the "It's coming out!"
"The Inquisitor... did the ritual conclude safely?" the senior-most priestess asked cautiously.
Hans panicked for a split second, then composed his expression. Shamelessness was the only way to survive these situations. He wore the most solemn and exhausted face imaginable.
"Both of them... have entered deep meditation," Hans said, his voice low. "They've expelled every impurity from their bodies and returned to their original pure souls. If you enter now, the scattered mana might stir again, so..." He put on a grave expression. "Exactly thirty minutes. Please wait thirty minutes before going in to attend to them."
"Ah...!" The priestesses gasped in admiration. As expected of a professional.
"Understood! We'll seal the entrance thoroughly!"
"Then, if you'll excuse me..." Hans naturally turned his steps toward the village. He considered hailing a carriage but decided walking would be better. Step, step. He descended the forest path, moving as naturally as possible while his mind sprinted at full speed. Ah, I want to go home and wash. I want to scrub my tongue. I want to gargle. His head was filled with nothing but a desperate craving for hygiene.
Thirty minutes later, the priestesses followed Hans's instructions to the minute. A cautious voice called from outside the door.
"Lady Lucia, may we enter?"
At the sound, the two women on the altar—lower bodies completely exposed—snapped their eyes open.
"Ah, ah...!"
"Haa, ha..."
Lucia's unfocused eyes finally regained life. She gasped and snatched up her black stockings and panties, soaked and crumpled beneath the altar. They were drenched in sticky fluids, but she had no time to care. She forced her trembling legs into the wet stockings, swallowing a scream.
Karen also sucked in a sharp breath and gathered the scattered silver plate armor pieces and her panties around the altar.
"W-wait a moment! The prayer isn't finished yet!" Lucia cried out, steadying her wet voice. Once they had tidied themselves somewhat, she exhaled heavily and granted permission. "...You may enter."
Creak— The heavy door opened, and the priestesses cautiously stepped inside. Then they saw it.
"Oh my god..." The altar was a veritable flood. The enormous amount of liquid the two women had expelled had overflowed the altar and soaked the floor tiles. In the center of it all sat the two women, dazed. Their clothes were disheveled, their hair wet, yet their expressions were strangely bright—radiant, even. The sudden rush of blood circulation after orgasm, the flood of endorphins, and the characteristic languor of post-climax had combined to create a dreamy atmosphere, as if a holy spirit had descended upon them.
"Inquisitor... th-this is..." one priestess stammered, pointing at the puddle on the floor. "Is that... holy water?"
Lucia slowly turned her head. Her eyes were still unfocused, dreamy. "It is," she answered quietly. She raised a wet hand and placed it over her lower abdomen. "This is the trace of every impurity in my body being washed away. The turbid energy buried deep in my bones... has all been expelled."
"Ooh...!" The priestesses trembled and dropped to their knees.
"It's a miracle! Light is emanating from the Inquisitor's body!"
"Your face looks at least ten years younger!"
It wasn't flattery. Lucia's skin truly gleamed with sweat, fluids, and the afterglow of climax. She maintained a solemn expression as she looked around.
"That man... where did Hans go?"
"Ah, he left quietly, saying he didn't want to disturb your meditation."
"......!" Lucia's eyes widened. He left? After swallowing all her filthy turbid energy without asking for anything in return? Her brain's filter spun rapidly. She had thought he was a heretic. She had tried to kill him. Yet he had silently taken in her filth, saved even her friend Karen, and vanished like an unsung hero.
"So this... is what a true seeker is like..." Lucia murmured. "Hans, you are no heretic. Rather, you possess a far purer soul than any of us."
Thud, thud. Hans's legs nearly gave out as he descended the mountain path.
"This is insane, seriously. How long until I reach the village?"
Just then, the sound of hooves echoed from behind. Clip-clop, clip-clop. Before Hans could even turn, a luxurious carriage pulled up beside him. The window opened, and Lucia's face popped out.
"Get in."
"......Yes?"
"I said get in. I'll take you."
The atmosphere didn't allow refusal. Hans climbed aboard hesitantly. The interior was spacious, but the air felt suffocatingly heavy. Karen was slumped in a corner, snoring, while Lucia sat upright, staring intently at Hans. Her gaze locked onto his lips—the very lips that had sucked on her most intimate place. That vacuum-cleaner suction. Lucia unconsciously crossed her legs. The inside of her thighs tingled again.
"Um, Inquisitor? Why are you looking at me like—" Hans began nervously. Lucia cleared her throat and averted her eyes.
"Ahem. That... technique of yours."
"Yes?"
"You called it vacuum... resonance therapy?"
"Ah, yes. That's correct."
Lucia asked, casually yet persistently, "When... can I receive the next purification? Is there a cycle?"
"......Excuse me?" Hans's eyes widened. This woman... she wanted to do it again already?
"No, don't misunderstand. I'm asking because I'm worried the turbid energy might accumulate again. It's purely preventive..." Lucia trailed off, covering her mouth with her long uniform sleeve. But she couldn't hide her burning red ears. She's lost it. She's addicted. Hans realized instinctively. This woman could no longer live without his technique.
Meanwhile, Lucia was rapidly calculating inside her head. Should she report this incredible pleasure—no, this purification technique—to the upper echelons of the order? No. I can't. Her eyes sharpened. I can't let those old men in the capital know about this technique. They're the ones who demoted me. And more than anything—I want those lips sucking only me. The thought of those lips wandering between other priestesses' legs, or worse, those of the high-ranking old men in the capital, filled her with a strange displeasure. Possessiveness. It was an emotion far more terrifying than faith.
"This matter... I'll keep it secret. I'll report to the higher-ups that there were no unusual findings." Lucia declared. "In exchange, whenever I call, you must come and... perform an inspection. Understood?"
"......Yes." Hans answered with the resignation of someone forced to eat mustard while crying. He was grateful to be alive, but it felt like he'd signed a lifetime after-sales service slave contract.
***
After dropping Hans and Karen off at the village entrance, the carriage returned to the shrine. Only Lucia and her two most trusted attendant priestesses remained inside. Breaking the silence, one priestess spoke cautiously.
"Inquisitor. About that enormous amount of holy water earlier..." The priestesses' eyes sparkled. "How were you able to release so much? If we pray harder, could we..."
It was an innocent question. But Lucia was already an "enlightened one." She gathered the priestesses close and whispered conspiratorially.
"You've all been mistaken until now."
"Yes?"
"Prayer isn't done with the heart alone." Lucia's voice carried fanatical conviction. "You must stimulate the deepest place in the body—that secret spring—and physically expel the rotten water inside for true purification to occur."
"Ah...!"
"That is precisely... the miracle of the Holy Fountain."
The priestesses were too shocked to close their mouths. The Holy Fountain. Even the name sounded incredibly noble and sacred.
"But... this is a realm one cannot reach alone. A guide is absolutely necessary." Lucia gazed wistfully at Hans's retreating figure through the window. "From today onward, any attack on Hans will be considered an attack on me. Report immediately if anyone slanders him."
"Yes! Understood!" the priestesses answered with solemn resolve. In that moment, the seeds of a new organization—the "Hans Guard"—were planted in their hearts.