Odin's Foundation (2)

In front of the building suspected to be Odin's Foundation. If Cecilia was vouching for it this strongly, then this place had to be the real deal.

The Kallias Empire had branded the Odin Church a heresy, and as the inquisitors' top target, any foundation here was undoubtedly expanding its influence in secrecy. In short, an unauthorized heretical force had wormed its way into the empire and was operating covertly. That much was certain.

Auron held no personal grudge against Odin, but the gods were at odds with him. Above all, the bastard was waging war on the other gods just to claim sole divinity. No direct battles yet, but he was desperately extending his reach through humans.

In this situation, wiping out Odin's foundation would drive the gods into a frenzy without fail.

The soldiers awaited only his command. They were excited too. The empire viewed Odin worship as apostasy, reacting with medieval witch-hunt levels of hysteria. Brainwashing at its finest. Believing in a real god like Odin wouldn't harm humans, but the empire rejected it utterly.

With even the gods convinced this was Odin's foundation, slaughtering everyone inside would be fine. It might even provoke their frenzy.

"I command you, soldiers of the holy gods!"

"Ooooh!"

The troops pounded their chests. Religion was a damn effective way to unify morale. No wonder religious wars raged so fiercely. Even modern Earth couldn't escape them— this world went without saying.

"Heretics lurk here. The evil root worshiping the warrior god, poised to dye this world in blood, slumbers within. Surround them thoroughly and slaughter every human serving the foundation! Leave not even an ant alive! This is the will of the gods!"

"Waaaaah!"

"Charge!"

The soldiers turned berserk and stormed in. Screams soon echoed from the building.

There might be non-Odin followers inside, but tough luck. Stepping into Odin's holy site was reason enough to die.

"Kwaaaagh!"

"Aaaagh!"

Screams from within. Without Auron lifting a finger, the soldiers would comb the place and kill every cultist. But he couldn't just stand by. He was the protagonist, after all, and the god-subscribers wanted him in action.

Wouldn't hurt if a holy relic popped up here. Destroying the temple would thrill them, but for insane tip-spamming, he needed a real show.

With faint hope, he entered the building. The soldiers had already slain everyone upstairs and found the path underground. Knight Captain Rommel reported.

"My lord! There's a secret passage used by the apostates here!"

"Already found it?"

"The gods must have guided us to uncover their hidden foundation, no?"

"Yeah, the gods' grace indeed."

Perverted psychos they might be, but since they spared no aid for his growth, crediting the gods was fair.

Dozens lay butchered pathetically, the stairs to the basement slick with blood. Torches lined the dark stairwell walls, blood oozing beneath them, walls splattered like a horror flick.

Screams continued from below. Around now, the gods' cheers rang out.

Nice, solid reactions.

Descending revealed a vast cavern with church pews and a striking statue before the altar. Odin's warrior-god rep wasn't for show—he was massive, wielding a giant battle-axe favored by giantkin in one hand, a dripping heart in the other. His shoulder-length hair was wild, face utterly savage. Built for battle, no appeal.

Of course, this was a human-crafted statue from scriptures, not the real Odin. Probably even uglier in person.

Before the altar, white-robed Odin priests wore desperate expressions. Atop it lay a naked woman, chest stabbed, heart ripped out. Human sacrifice, apparently.

Couldn't let that slide.

"What era do you call this, still doing human sacrifices? True cultists through and through!"

"Filthy bastards!"

The soldiers flipped at the sight, massacring the priests. Didn't expect such rage—they were going feral.

This left him nothing to do. Unacceptable. As protagonist, he had to shine or miss Bibian's blessings. With a new god subscribed, he needed a big play.

And opportunity knocked. Knight Captain Rommel brought a ornate chalice from the altar, filled with the woman's blood, reeking of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unholy aura. Divine or demonic foundation? Hard to tell.

"Found it at the altar!"

"What's that?"

"Holy relic, maybe?"

Eyes turned to Cecilia. As Vivian Church high priestess, she might know.

Vivian herself freaked, stammering before shouting.

"I-it's the Holy Grail! And the woman on the altar—a Vivian Church believer, sacrificed!"

"Holy shit, Odin's a real psycho."

"To bolster Odin's power... and substitute for the gods' karma. A sacrifice."

Splash!

He dumped the blood roughly and dropped the chalice. Crash! Then stomped it.

"Garbage like this needs smashing."

Finally, something to do.

Aavon County lord's castle. Count Aavon had planned a showdown against Viscount Aron the tyrant. Even Aron couldn't breach the north's final fortress, he thought.

Wrong.

The monster flew straight to the ramparts and knocked him out.

Soon, excruciating pain woke Count Aavon.

"Ughhh!"

"My lord! Are you alright?!"

Retainers crowded his chamber. Priests had healed external wounds, but joints throbbed—he could barely move. Teeth half-gone. No dentures here; he lisped urgently.

"Th-the bastarth?!"

He faced potential treason charges. Absurd pretext: Odin's foundation! If real in his lands, he'd face imperial assault—and Vivian Church all-out war.

Knight Captain Rockfel yelled.

"My lord! Viscount Aron is purging the area he calls Odin's foundation!"

"Purging? Where's this foundation to purge?!"

Aron casually tore knights apart for bad vibes. If a real foundation here? His clan doomed. Emperor mightn't go nuclear, but Aron would. Already flat-chested and anxious, Aavon's heart pounded wildly.

"Frame job!"

"We must hurry! Blood's spilling everywhere!"

"Damn it! If it's not Odin's foundation, justice is ours!"

Aron was one man, monstrous or not. Killing innocent imperials would draw ire. Aron might shrug it off, but as conquest commander, one slip could erode control. Hoist his banner of imperial defense, and Aavon could command Aron's troops.

His sole hope: paint Aron the heretic!

Praying to the gods, Aavon bolted to the scene, knights in tow. Soldiers milled cluelessly; Aron's forces ransacked everywhere.

They reached the slum alley. Blood reeked from a shabby house.

"Make way! I'll confirm Odin's foundation here!"

Guards stepped aside—Auron's orders, probably. Aavon's heart clenched tighter. Unnameable dread near madness.

Overflowing blood trickled down stairs, walls scratched by desperate nails. Sickening stench dizzied him.

Below: vast cavern. Odin priests dead on floor, naked woman heart-gouged—sacrifice. Magic circle, massive Odin statue. Aron stomped the grail-thing.

All evidence crystal clear.

Thud!

Heretics had expanded here, of all places. Statue, altar, circle, priests—perfect proof. Apostasy stamp incoming.

Aavon trembled violently.

"W-we're fucked."

Crunch! Crunch! Boom! Bang!

Odin's Holy Grail shattering. Whatever it was made of, it resisted his full ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stomps. But the gods went beyond frenzy—high as kites.

And the karma poured in massively.

"Hah!"

Bibian was insanely generous. Quite the haul. And with her raging, she recommended him and bestowed massive blessings.