The morning was crisp, and the soft hum of village life served as the backdrop to Serafine's latest escapades.
It had become a surprisingly fertile ground for her budding "cult." The villagers, enamored by her charisma and "divine miracles," flocked to her daily. Serafine relished in their admiration, basking in their awed gazes like a cat stretched out in a sunbeam.
But, as she was quickly learning, the higher one climbed, the more precarious the footing became.
It started innocently enough: a young woman named Clara approached her with a wide, almost unsettling smile. Clara had joined the group just a few days prior, after Serafine's showdown with Father Aldous.
"Lady Serafine," Clara began, bowing deeply. "Might I assist with today's blessings?"
Serafine, lounging in her makeshift throne which is actually just a chair cushioned with stolen pillows, raised an eyebrow. "Blessings, you say?"
"Yes, my lady." Clara clasped her hands together, looking almost too eager. "I wish to prove my devotion."
"Very well, Clara. You may assist. But remember…" She leaned forward, her eyes glinting mischievously. "True devotion is about subtlety, not spectacle."
Clara nodded fervently, but Serafine noticed a flicker of something in her eyes. Guilt? Anxiety? Whatever it was, Serafine filed it away for later.
As the day unfolded, Clara's strange behavior became more apparent. She lingered near Serafine's inner circle, always watching, always listening. When she thought no one was looking, she scribbled notes on a scrap of parchment.
Calix was the first to voice his concerns. "Something's off about her," he muttered to Serafine as they prepared for the evening's sermon.
"Hmm?" Serafine feigned disinterest, inspecting her nails.
"Clara," Calix insisted. "She's… I don't know. Suspicious."
Serafine finally looked at him, her smirk softening into something resembling amusement. "Oh, Calix. Paranoia doesn't suit you."
"It's not paranoia if I'm right," he shot back.
"True." Serafine tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Fine. Keep an eye on her. But don't do anything dramatic. That's my job."
As it turned out, Calix's suspicions were well-founded.
That evening, during the sermon, Clara made her move.
"My fellow believers," she announced, standing abruptly in the middle of the crowd. Her voice trembled, but her words were loud enough to carry. "I have uncovered a terrible truth!"
The villagers turned to her, murmurs spreading like wildfire.
"Lady Serafine is not who she claims to be," Clara continued, her face pale but determined. "She is no servant of the heavens. She is a fraud!"
The murmurs turned to gasps, and Serafine, standing at the front of the crowd, froze only for a split second. Then, she smiled.
"Clara, dear," Serafine said, her tone light and playful. "What a… bold claim. Care to elaborate?"
Clara hesitated, clearly not expecting such a calm reaction. "I-I have proof!" She held up her parchment, waving it for all to see. "She uses tricks to deceive us! Her so-called miracles are nothing but clever illusions!"
The crowd shifted uneasily, their gazes darting between Clara and Serafine.
"Oh, Clara," Serafine said, sighing dramatically. "It pains me to say this, but you have been deceived. Not by me, of course, but by darker forces."
"What…?"
She stepped forward, her expression sorrowful yet commanding. "Do you not see? Clara has been corrupted. Her soul has been poisoned by the whispers of heretics," She turned to the crowd, her voice rising with conviction. "This is what happens when we let doubt fester. It weakens our resolve and opens the door to chaos."
The villagers murmured again, this time with anger directed at Clara.
"No!" Clara cried, clutching her parchment. "She's lying! Can't you see?"
But Serafine wasn't done. She raised her hand, gesturing for silence.
"Calix," Serafine said, her tone gentle but firm. "Show them the truth."
"Uh… what truth?"
Serafine gave him a pointed look. "Use your Ethos, darling. Let the light of faith shine upon us."
Calix hesitated, but when Serafine subtly raised an eyebrow, he sighed and stepped forward. Closing his eyes, he summoned his Ethos—Lumen Sensus—and let it flow through him.
A soft, golden light emanated from his body, washing over the crowd. The villagers gasped as a sense of peace and clarity filled their hearts.
"It's true," one of them whispered. "Lady Serafine's light is pure."
"She's a servant of the heavens!" another declared.
"No… this isn't…"
Serafine stepped closer to her, lowering her voice so only Clara could hear. "You should've known better than to play my game."
Before the traitor could respond, the villagers closed in on her, their anger now fully directed at the supposed heretic.
"Wait!" Mariella's voice cut through the commotion. She stepped forward, her face calm but determined. "Clara is lost, yes, but we mustn't harm her. Let her leave in peace, so she may reflect on her actions."
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[Ruination System Activation: Sixth Mission]
Objective:
Imprison someone for the first time and make them your slave.
Reward:
Completion of this task will grant you 100 Ruination Points (RN).
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'And here I thought I'd be merciful… but then again, I've had my fair share of traitors in my past life. And let's be honest, mercy is so last season.'
Serafine clapped her hands together, a dazzling smile plastered on her face as she dramatically raised her arms. "I have finally decided on a verdict!" she declared, her voice ringing with the kind of authority that made people instinctively shut up.
And just like that, silence fell.
Her cult had officially entered its cliché cult phase, the kind with over-the-top theatrics, questionable morality, and just a sprinkle of human rights violations. Not that the townsfolk seemed to care. Honestly, they probably didn't even know what human rights were. It was the medieval era, after all. The concept of "rights" in their world mostly boiled down to "don't anger the local noble unless you fancy being burned at the stake."
SHE glanced around, soaking in the eager, obedient faces staring back at her. Ah, power. It was such a beautiful thing for the people above. And these people? These wide-eyed peasants? Oh, they were eating it up.
Honestly, she could say anything at this point, and they'd probably nod along.
Hmm… maybe she should test it.
"By the divine decree of me," she continued, tossing her hair back, "this traitor shall receive a punishment most befitting of their crimes! A punishment so just and righteous that even the gods will weep at my brilliance! She shall be forced to become a servant through conversion!"