#28. Of Course, It’s for the God.
“It’s time to end this.”
The man grinned so wide it looked like his mouth would tear, muttering under his breath.
“The last one. Finally, finally! It’s here!”
His voice brimmed with exultation, but his shoulders trembled uncontrollably. Everything had remained stagnant—until the dam finally broke. Once it did, events rushed forward at a dizzying speed. Even the man who orchestrated this, who yearned for the descent of the Ancient God, couldn’t keep up. If only Angbuh hadn’t been caught so easily, he could’ve carried out his plan with more cunning, with greater darkness. And he would’ve had more time to prepare the final ritual.
“I must hurry—must finish the preparations today! Immediately!”
But now that the final sacrifice had fallen into his hands so suddenly, he hadn’t yet completed the ritual preparations. He hadn’t even dealt with the previous offerings.
Clank, clatter.
While the man, his eyes half-rolled back, prepared tools for the ceremony, three unmoving figures lay limp in the dim, sealed room. Two lay close together. The third was slumped a short distance away. It was hard to say how much time had passed in the damp air pressing down on their cheeks.
“Ugh…”
A faint moan escaped from the lone figure, her eyelids twitching slightly.
“Ahh…”
Angbuh groaned at the pain that surged through her the moment she regained consciousness. She barely opened her eyes, only to shut them tightly as her vision spun. After a quick, shaky breath, she glanced around cautiously. A dim and unfamiliar interior. Stale air. And—clink. Bound hands and feet. She had suspected it the moment she blacked out. Yes… she’d been kidnapped.
“Phew…”
Angbuh calmly assessed the situation and her condition. She was a “Taren.” Naturally, she had been trained from a young age to respond to danger. She didn’t scream, didn’t struggle. She simply waited for her abductor to appear. As much as she hated to admit it, it had to be him—the man she had last seen.
One, two, three… How long had she been counting in her head?
Creeeeak.
The door opened with a grating sound, and the stale air began to seep out. The man stepped inside, bathed in a dim, sickly light. She had hoped—no, expected—it would be him. Even in these grim times, he had seemed like a reliable, hardworking young man. Yet he was the kidnapper.
Angbuh immediately recalled the strange things he had mumbled before. Was he never really “okay” after all?
She moved slowly and asked as calmly as she could, not wanting to provoke him.
“Why are you doing this? If you were in pain, you could have always talked to me…”
She needed to know his intentions to plan her next move. But the man’s reply was so far from what she expected, it left her blinking in disbelief.
“Why? Why, of course, for the god.”
His answer wasn’t just unexpected—it was unimaginable. As Angbuh stared at him in silence, the man beamed, waving his arms in unnatural excitement.
“Rejoice! Feel honored! You shall be the final sacrifice!”
He pointed gleefully at the mother and child curled up together.
“Of course, I must offer them first. So you’ll have to wait a bit.”
The man looked at the mother and child, their bodies limp in each other’s arms, and grinned like a madman. Only then did Angbuh realize she wasn’t the only victim. But even that awareness changed nothing.
The man continued talking, unprompted, boasting to no one in particular.
“They would have preferred it this way. Life in this world was hell for them. Becoming offerings to the god and being purified is the best thing that could happen.”
What utter nonsense. Even if they had wanted to die, it would not have been at the hands of this lunatic. They had followed his orders out of fear, hoping to survive. His words were nothing more than selfish, twisted justification.
“All the sacrifices I’ve purified so far went peacefully. They were thankful.”
Cackling, the man suddenly stopped laughing and left the room—only to return dragging a large box.
“This one’s from the first…”
Inside were the belongings of past victims: a ragged doll from a coworker’s daughter, a nameless woman’s ring, a strip of cloth torn from an elderly man’s clothes, worn-down fingernails, clumps of hair soaked in blood…
One by one, he pulled them out and babbled stories to himself, as if showing off trophies.
“They were all purified by me.”
Angbuh stared blankly at the items he pulled from the box, blinking slowly. Why… is he so happy?
He displayed the relics of the dead like prizes, his eyes shining with disgusting delight. The nausea hit her suddenly, and she doubled over, coughing. The man didn’t even notice.
“They only found peace after they were purified.”
Each of his victims had their own tragedies, like the mother and daughter suffering under debt. But that didn’t make his delusions any less vile.
As she listened, Angbuh came to a terrifying realization:
First, this man was the culprit behind the string of disappearances and murders in the region.
Second… when he spoke of purification and gods, she dared to hope she was wrong.
But no—he didn’t kidnap her or the mother and daughter for personal gain.
“…Once I offer you as the final sacrifice, the Ancient God will descend!”
Yes. He was a fanatic. A religious zealot.
No negotiations would work. To him, this was his “mission.”
Angbuh gritted her teeth and strained to free her tied hands. All she managed were bloody scrapes on her wrists.
Somehow, the man noticed and approached.
Clink.
“Shall I untie you?”
He held up the heavy chain wrapped around her ankles and grinned. Even if her hands were free, she wouldn’t be able to escape.
Angbuh, realizing resistance was useless and possibly dangerous, went limp.
“Oh, not interested in that either?”
The man looked down at her softly waving pink hair and stood up.
“Time to prepare. Prepare~”
He hummed like he was singing a lullaby and yanked the child by the back of her neck.
“Ah… my baby…”
The mother’s hoarse voice barely escaped her throat as she watched her child be taken.
“Don’t worry. I’ll purify you both.”
He drew a twisted sigil of the Ancient God on the mother’s forehead, then did the same to the child.
“There now. Just a little longer. Your big brother will help you.”
He gently caressed the lifeless child’s cheek before turning to leave.
From behind him, Angbuh’s voice called out.
“Then why me?”
The man stopped and turned, spreading his arms wide like before. That grin still never left his face.
“You? Because you helped me.”
“What?”
“You said it yourself. You’d help. So I’m accepting your help.”
She had said something like that, but…
“You helped me, and now I’m helping you. Isn’t that nice?”
“…What are you talking about?”
“Oh? Was that unclear? It’s simple. You helped me. I help you.”
His words, stripped of context, might’ve sounded innocent. But what did help mean to him?
Angbuh couldn’t understand. And she didn’t want to.
Then suddenly, Olivia’s voice echoed in her mind.
“Good intentions don’t always lead to good results.”
She knew that. She always knew.
Still, Angbuh helped people when she could. Not for atonement, not to heal old wounds, not to show off. Simply because she could.
And now, that good deed had made her the target of a fanatic.
A normal person would’ve been overwhelmed with despair or fury. But Angbuh wasn’t normal.
She didn’t feel rage. She didn’t feel betrayal. She accepted the situation and focused solely on how to survive.
The man bowed politely.
“Please wait just a little longer. It’s almost time.”
As he straightened up, lightning flashed.
BOOM!
Thunder roared overhead, followed by torrential rain.
Meanwhile, Olivia clenched her jaw to stop her chattering teeth. Though Cryer shielded her, the rain hit them like spears. She was soaked to the bone, her lips turning a pale purple.
It had been a clear day when they set out. But black clouds gathered unnaturally fast. Now the skies poured as if they’d split open.
She blinked rapidly, trying to see.
Then she stopped.
No—Cryer had stopped running.
Visibility was near zero, but his eyes locked in one direction. Olivia whispered hoarsely, barely audible over the storm.
“We… we’re here…?”
“Yes. This is the place.”
“Y-you said you could run faster than a horse… I guess… you weren’t exaggerating…”
Cryer gently set her down and swept her soaked red hair from her cheek, wrapping her trembling shoulders in his cloak.
“I just copied what I read in Bolsheik’s book.”
His cloak was also drenched, but she still felt a faint warmth.
Wetting her lips, Olivia finally spoke more smoothly.
“What were our ancestors even doing?”
She grumbled, turning her stiff neck despite the pain. But in this storm, she could see nothing.
“This is where the culprit is, right? Do you smell blood?”
“Can you move?”
Despite her lips turning black, Olivia nodded without hesitation.
“I have to.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Cryer reached out his hand.
