Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Territorial Dispute (2)
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Some time passed.
Michael strode boldly into the grocery store alongside a few homeless people.
The homeless trailing behind him clutched painted wooden planks, instruments with a few broken strings, and flickering lanterns.
My mouth fell open involuntarily.
"Stop."
"Yes?"
These were things I hadn't seen in quite a while.
They were exactly like the setup Michael had the other homeless prepare back when he tried explaining the mafia families, spouting nonsense about keeping up appearances and formality.
But I had no intention of watching that horrific spectacle again, so I sent all the other homeless outside.
"Damn it, we should've made it higher quality..."
"Kuh."
"...That's why I said we should scavenge a proper instrument!"
They grumbled incessantly as they left.
Michael straightened his tie and muttered regretfully.
"It still would've helped with the report..."
"Just explain it verbally. That's fine."
Anyway.
Liberra and Nova still hadn't returned from their walk, so I was the only one listening to Michael's explanation—
[Dyu.]
"Ack, you startled me."
I cleared my throat as I looked up at the turret that had emerged from the ceiling.
It was impossible not to jump when it popped out without any warning.
Anyway, both of us focused on Michael's words.
"Then I'll begin the explanation."
Unable to completely give up, Michael picked up a wooden plank with a retro-designed character drawn on it and slowly continued.
"The homeless who attacked us just now—"
[Dyu?!]
"I'd appreciate it if you refrained from speaking during the explanation, except for questions."
[......Dyu.]
"Anyway, the religious group that homeless person belongs to is called the 'Infinite Truth Church.' From what I gathered, it's already fairly well-known among the homeless, more than I expected."
The name alone reeked of a scam.
Something you could enjoy infinitely, maybe.
"What's so famous about it?"
"They hand out free food."
"Ah."
I got the picture.
Churches running free soup kitchens wasn't unusual.
Michael scratched his head.
"At least until the 'Hotdog Man' showed up, many homeless headed there to escape the cold and hunger. It probably decreased after our group got established properly."
He held up a picture of a homeless-looking character with a question mark over its head.
"Well, it's not exactly a place with a good reputation. There are rumors of homeless disappearing after going inside, and those who attended the church for a long time all ended up in weird states."
I nodded slowly as I listened to Michael.
Even the food they distributed tasted bad, so I'd choose expired ingredients from Megacorp too.
During training, I'd witnessed the miracle of religions changing weekly based on the food served.
Food taste was a crucial matter.
In other words.
"They can't lure new followers with free meals anymore, so they stirred up trouble on our turf?"
"That's the most likely scenario."
It was utterly ridiculous.
Michael seemed to think the same, pressing his brow and sighing.
The final wooden plank he held up depicted a Bolt Boy-like retro character with spinning eyes, wielding a knife and causing a ruckus recreating the vacant lot incident.
So, the point of that picture was...
'...No.'
Asking would mean defeat.
Anyway.
A few suspicious points stood out.
A religious fanatic might be a bit off, but what reason would they have to stab someone at a grocery store?
Especially slitting their own throat.
"Infinite... what?"
"Infinite Truth Church."
"Where's their church?"
I'd decided not to go out for a while.
But I should check it out.
* * *
The stained glass edges glowed in garish neon hues like a signboard.
A bizarre sight no legitimate religious group would ever have.
A man in his thirties, draped in an uncomfortably thick mantum robe, frowned as he listened to the report from the follower trailing him, holding up the hem of his garment.
"You're saying both of them are fine right now?"
"...Y-yes, Great Venerable One."
The leader of the Infinite Truth Church, secretly building power while evading RCPD and city hall eyes—Hale Creed—thought of a certain grocery store that had become a major obstacle to the church's expansion.
A dire situation where follower recruitment could face massive setbacks if things continued.
He couldn't let the foundation he'd barely established crumble over one little grocery store.
Hale Creed added to his devoted—and inevitably devoted—follower.
"They are 'demons,' no matter what anyone says. Evil beings blocking our cycle."
"I-is that so?!"
"Yes. I'd love to go deal with them myself, but unfortunately, I haven't fully completed the task assigned to me in this cycle..."
"Venerable One, don't worry! You must continue leading us until you enter the cycle's ring!"
A picture-perfect fanatic.
Cult followers had high loyalty, but this one's reaction was blatantly abnormal.
Hale Creed, knowing all the truths, smiled affably and whispered.
"That said, we can't let the others there get hurt. They're just poor lambs tempted by the demons."
If he just cut off the head of the boss called Hotdog Man and his minions.
The homeless starving without food would have no choice but to rely on the church again.
Hale Creed, who ran a people-trafficking business through religion, emphasized this several times.
"Yes, that's absolutely right!"
"Good. ...Oh, time's up already. Worship service is about to start."
Hale Creed exited the 'Focused Worship Room' with his follower, careful not to let his robe drag on the floor.
Then.
As he entered the large public worship hall, the followers there showed polar opposite reactions.
"Ooh.... Lord...!!"
"To lose faith is—"
"...Save us from this chaotic world."
One side was busy clasping hands desperately in prayer, tears and snot streaming.
"...Hey, is this for real?"
"Fuck, I came for more food. The vibe's off, though."
"......They're even guarding the front gate now?"
The other side, probably first-time homeless visitors, scanned their surroundings with uneasy eyes.
'Heh heh heh...'
But Hale Creed, knowing the secret that both types would become his faithful sheep, just smiled warmly as always.
"Death is no longer the end; the cycle will protect us."
"Amen!!"
"Inshallah!"
"Ooh, hallelujah!"
No regard for proper religious terms, as all sorts of endings followed noisily.
Hale Creed nodded quietly at the sight.
But.
He didn't know.
That the store manager and subordinate who had infiltrated from a certain 'grocery store' were sitting among the faithful followers, pretending to pray fervently.
"Mitsiel...!!"
"...What religion uses that?"
"It exists."
A webtoon that perfectly showed what an anticlimactic ending was.
It was a masterpiece until the middle...
Abel Anderson—Hotdog Man—who had infiltrated the cult, muttered inwardly.
* * *
The infiltration was easier than expected.
The cult building didn't have posters of Michael or my face plastered everywhere.
"New followers?"
"We just came out of curiosity..."
"Curiosity—excellent!"
What was.
I took a step back, overwhelmed by the man's awkwardly bright smile.
"Curiosity means you're beginning to doubt this world!"
"No, not that far..."
"Perfect! Come in and partake of the delicious sacrament bestowed by the Venerable One!"
It deviated a bit from my plan, but we successfully entered the cult interior.
And immediately faced a crisis.
"...This?"
"I mentioned it earlier. It's the sacrament from our Venerable One! Eat as much as you want, freely!"
Rotten porridge or soup?
Unidentifiable thick liquid filled the bowl.
A very dark gray color.
Personally, it resembled the sink drain gunk I'd seen.
"Who the hell would eat th—"
"I'll gratefully dig in!!"
"......Michael?"
Michael, true to his former corporate life in Risk City, lifted the plate without hesitation.
Sure enough, the proverb about swallowing the plate if you're eating poison came to mind.
'I can't lose to him.'
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a bite of the gruel(?). A bizarre taste exploded in my mouth like a rainbow.
Not the rainbow after rain, but one with the color and impact of a golf club to the head.
This fucking... Neil Drukman...
Poking at the bowl revealed a rat skull with just bones left.
"......"
"Huh? You're not eating?"
The follower next to me eyed me suspiciously.
Should I just punch him and leave...
As I seriously considered it.
Michael, having emptied his bowl already, thrust the empty dish forward.
"He seems to have a bad stomach. It's really good—mind if I have a few more bowls?"
"...Of course."
As the follower left.
I asked Michael.
"You're not eating it because it's actually tasty, right?"
"Of course. It's food from a cult leader—I'm just pretending to enjoy it."
"Fucking impressive..."
Impossible for a normal person.
Michael suddenly seemed amazing.
......
"...For real, right?"
"Yes."
Then why was he still eating.
Thanks to Michael's sacrifice, we infiltrated the worship hall.
"We go that way."
"...No matter how I look, that's not right."
I pointed at homeless who, like us, seemed out of place.
But Michael shook his head firmly.
"Blending in with a sense of belonging is key anywhere. And this atmosphere... something's off. Best to mimic the existing followers."
I'd felt it too, somewhat.
Acting our best as cult followers.
We slipped to the back secretly.
"Security's not tight."
"It's a normal religious facility for now. ...Unless we go deeper."
Michael's gaze turned to the massive wall.
No barbed wire visible at the top, but the height evoked a prison.
"Definitely suspicious."
"Given the height, it'd be hard without subduing a guard for a key."
But contrary to Michael's calculations, my eyes were on a window at similar height to the wall.
"...Hotdog Man? I'm not an enhanced human—I'd be lucky to survive a fall from there—"
"Hold tight."
"......!!"
We crossed the wall effortlessly and discovered a vast, empty building.
"No surveillance cameras either."
"Th-they must not care much about security here. To avoid hacking, best to have no hackable electronics at all."
Michael exhaled deeply and clenched his trembling fist.
Not holding back a punch urge, hopefully.
Maybe because we slipped out during worship.
No patrols in sight.
'What the hell is here...'
After wandering about ten minutes with that thought.
A steel door appeared, labeled like a secret entrance.
Similar to what I'd seen underground at Hole Paradise.
'...Human trafficking?'
Not entirely unexpected, so I wasn't too shocked. I pushed the steel door slightly.
But.
Beep, beep, beep—
Accompanied by vital sign beeps like in a hospital room.
Dozens of people lay in beds, wearing helmet-like devices on their heads.
A pungent disinfectant smell wafted.
A chill sank into my blood simultaneously.
Michael looked around and clicked his tongue.
"Looks like a place to hack people's neural smart chips. So......"
"Brainwashing?"
"...Yes."
Approaching a bed, a voice played at ten times speed.
I smashed the machine outright,
but the closed-eyed person didn't wake.
Just drooling like a vacant idiot.
"...People whose smart chips are hacked rarely recover fully. Might as well be dead."
An unpleasant sensation shook my entire body.
I noticed my 'experience' had increased.
"...Ha."
Everything felt like shit.
This world that treated lives like flies, the woman's voice popping up only when it wanted to bitch, even myself for instinctively glancing at the homeless on another bed.
So, I—
* * *
After the afternoon worship,
Hale Creed headed to the 'Focused Worship Room' and encountered an unexpected visitor.
An unfamiliar face.
But he smiled without panic.
"My, you seem lost. If it's not a bother, I can guide y—"
"Shut up."
Glowing eyes glared at him.
"Just die."