(3rd Person POV)
Throughout Elder Bane Asylum, patients awakened simultaneously, clarity shining in formerly clouded eyes.
Miser Albertson sat up in his bed, hands trembling as he touched his face. The fog that had imprisoned his mind for years had vanished. "I'm... I'm actually thinking clearly?" he whispered, scarcely believing his own lucidity.
"You too?" A familiar voice drew his attention. His roommate, an elderly half-demon who'd spent over a century in these walls, watched him with newly focused eyes.
Miser stared at his long-time companion, recognizing for the first time the wisdom in those ancient features. "It's like a curse has been lifted," he managed, voice thick with emotion. "After all these years..."
The old half-demon's weathered face broke into a gentle smile. "Perhaps the gods haven't forgotten us after all."
"We should escape while we can-" Miser started, but his roommate raised a gnarled hand.
"Listen," the elder demon said softly. Through the walls came the unmistakable sounds of movement and hushed, coherent conversation. "We're not alone in this miracle."
They made their way to the day room, finding it already occupied by other patients - all showing the same transformed awareness in their eyes. Near the nurses' station lay an unconscious nurse, peacefully slumped in her chair. And there, standing before them all, was a familiar face.
"That's the actor," Miser breathed. "The one who's been filming here."
The old half-demon's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Yes... and I suspect he's far more than just an actor."
John gazed at the gathering of healed patients, a gentle smile playing across his lips. They didn't yet understand that Dionysus had granted them this miracle, but soon they would know the truth about their divine benefactor.
---
Arthur stirred in his bed as divine energy pulsed through his consciousness. His eyes flickered open, mind already reaching for his domain. In an instant, he materialized in his newly expanded divine space - a magnificent ballroom that had cost him 2,000 Divine Points just three days ago.
The investment had left him with only hundreds of points, but the benefits justified the cost.
Crystal chandeliers hung from impossibly high ceilings, their light reflecting off marble floors that stretched beyond mortal perception.
This space could host thousands of followers simultaneously, allowing direct divine audiences. More importantly, it enhanced his ability to channel divine energy and monitor his growing congregation.
Arthur settled into an ornate chair, willing a television into existence atop a gilded table. The screen flickered through images before settling on John, who stood before the asylum patients, spreading Dionysus's gospel with passionate conviction.
"Well done, John," Arthur murmured, watching his faithful follower work. "You've learned to balance showmanship with sincerity."
His divine point counter ticked upward by 20 as new believers embraced their faith.
The conversion rate wasn't as impressive as it had been with his early followers - John, Crystal, Ada, and other seniors still generated significant divine energy through their unwavering devotion. Most new followers only produced about 0.02 divine points or less, their faith still tentative compared to the deep connection his senior followers maintained.
Still, 20 Divine Points in one night wasn't insignificant. Arthur smiled, knowing these newly converted patients would likely strengthen their faith over time.
The stronger their belief grew, the more divine energy they'd generate - a perfect cycle of devotion and power.
***
The morning news hit Horn City like a thunderbolt.
Alissa appeared on Hellfire News, her usually composed demeanor showing clear concern. "Breaking news: All patients from Elder Bane Asylum have escaped their confines," she reported, gripping her papers tightly. "Many of these individuals have violent histories. We urge parents to keep close watch over their children. If you spot anyone in asylum attire, contact authorities immediately. Do not approach them."
The news sparked immediate panic. Elder Bane Asylum's reputation loomed large in public consciousness - three centuries of operation had birthed countless dark rumors.
Stories circulated about elderly patients who'd mastered forbidden magic during their decades of confinement.
Television crews descended on the asylum within hours, their vans creating a media circus outside the ancient building.
Live broadcasts interrupted regular programming as reporters competed for the most dramatic coverage.
Along Horn City's busy streets, crowds gathered before television store windows, their faces reflecting in the screens as they watched events unfold.
"How could they all escape at once?" a shopkeeper wondered aloud. "Must've been planning this for months or even years."
"Those patients aren't right in the head," his neighbor added nervously. "They could be plotting chaos across the city right now."
A young demon clutched his Batman comic tightly. "Just like when Arkham Asylum's inmates escaped and terrorized Gotham!"
"Don't be ridiculous," an older demon scoffed. "The Nightstar royal guards will round them up before any real damage is done."
None of them realized that the "dangerous" patients had already changed into ordinary clothes, quietly beginning their new lives.
While many had embraced Dionysus's teachings through John, others simply sought a fresh start, their newly healed minds focused on building peaceful futures far from Elder Bane's shadows.
John led the newly healed patients to an abandoned warehouse Arthur had quietly acquired months ago. Inside, those whose faith proved strong enough received their sacred scrolls, golden light materializing before their eyes.
Not all followers could manifest these divine scrolls.
Throughout Angel City, thousands who'd pledged themselves to Dionysus still lacked the spiritual connection needed to summon their scrolls.
Some divided their devotion between multiple deities, while others harbored lingering doubts about Dionysus's divinity.
More concerning were the suspected spies from rival faiths, infiltrating their ranks under the guise of conversion.
These uncertainties explained the gap between Arthur's actual following - nearly 24,000 - and his confirmed faithful of 20,000.
Senior members maintained strict security protocols, protecting knowledge of the sacred scrolls and hidden sanctuaries until newcomers proved their devotion through genuine manifestation of divine connection.
***
Meanwhile, across Angel City, the tale of Joshua's miracle spread through taverns and bars. Bards wove the story of water transformed to wine into songs that captured imaginations and sparked curiosity about Dionysus.
The police, pressured by Solarus high priests, intensified their hunt for cult members. Yet their quarry had grown more sophisticated. Where once followers had proclaimed their faith openly, now they moved in shadows, gathering in secret and dispersing before authorities could act.
This increasing elusiveness frustrated the ACPD, and the Solarus high priests' mounting dissatisfaction only added to the tension. Their demands for arrests grew more insistent, even as the cult seemed to vanish into Angel City's fabric.
In the private chamber of Solarus Temple, High Inquisitor Thaddeus gathered his council around a marble table. Candlelight cast long shadows across ancient tapestries as he spoke. "The Cult of Dionysus grows beyond our initial estimates. At this rate, they'll soon rival The Scarlet Flame and The Gilded Accords - established thorns in our side for generations."
Templar Elder Nash leaned forward, his weathered hands clasped before him. "My spies report approximately fifteen thousand followers already. Though getting exact numbers proves... challenging."
High Priest Eryndor's robes rustled as he shifted uncomfortably. "From five thousand to fifteen thousand in mere months. Most disturbing is their reach - they're not just drawing from the desperate in underprivileged areas anymore. They've infiltrated Halo District, Starlight Canyon, even Seraph District itself."
"What of their meeting places?" another priest demanded. "Surely our agents have located their hideouts?"
Templar Elder Sol's expression darkened. "These cultists prove craftier than expected. They speak in riddles within riddles - when our people solve one, it only leads to another false trail. They're learning, adapting their security with each passing week."
Near the chamber's grand fireplace, Elena methodically polished brass ornaments, her movements deliberately slow and careful. To the council, she was merely another servant - invisible, irrelevant. Perfect cover for gathering intelligence that would protect her fellow followers.