On the second floor of a luxurious villa, a burly man nearing two meters in height listened to a subordinate's report, his brow furrowed in a deep frown.
This was one of the Eldritch Concord's strongholds in White Eagle, and the man before him was none other than Lord Wrath, one of the cult organization's leaders.
The repeated failures to seize the Human Skin Book would naturally displease the leader of the Eldritch Concord... or so one might think. In truth, Lord Wrath's frustration stemmed from entirely different matters; he was completely unaware of his low-ranking cultists' attempts to steal the Human Skin Book.
The Eldritch Concord had first emerged in Great Britain, but faced constant suppression, hindering their progress. Recently, however, taking advantage of White Eagle's weakened state, the entire organization had relocated across the ocean.
White Eagle's unique societal conditions made it an ideal breeding ground for spreading the worship of Evil Gods. For instance, a cultist strolling down the street could approach a homeless person exhibiting symptoms of "illness," offering them a "cigarette"—or rather, a dose of addictive drugs.
Within moments, the cultist could establish a rapport with the homeless person and pitch their Evil God, promising free access to power comparable to that of an Evolver. Now, tell me, wouldn't that be tempting?
These already depraved vagrants rarely refused, causing the Eldritch Concord to spread through White Eagle with astonishing speed. However, this rapid growth created a new problem: managing these cultists proved nearly impossible.
Even Lord Wrath himself had no idea how many cultists served under him. He couldn't contact or command these lower-ranking members, leaving him completely unaware of their failed attempt to steal the Human Skin Book.
This explained why Old John, a seasoned veteran with extensive interrogation experience, had gleaned so little useful information. The truth was... the cultists genuinely knew nothing.
Most didn't even know the identities of their direct superiors, let alone the locations of any hideouts or operational bases.
Returning to Wrath himself, he had dispatched Thumb Guy on the initial mission. Naturally, he knew the Human Skin Book had fallen into Elysia's hands. Logically, someone bearing the title of "Lord Wrath" and holding a high-ranking position within the cult should have launched an immediate assault to reclaim the artifact.
But he dared not.
After watching the video demonstrating Elysia's abilities—the full battle footage—he knew without a doubt that he stood no chance against the pink-haired woman.
Anyone could question the video's authenticity, suspecting it was staged. But Wrath harbored no such doubts—the one being beaten senseless was none other than his own subordinate!
Though easily angered, Wrath wasn't foolish enough to walk into his own death.
What? Me, fight Elysia?
Could I even win?
No, no way. There's no scenario where I come out on top!
"Damn it! What's wrong with this country? How could an Outsider like her appear at such a critical moment?"
If not for Elysia, seizing control of this region would have been child's play for Wrath. But what-ifs were pointless. Elysia had materialized out of nowhere and was rapidly swaying hearts, making her ascension to the White Eagle Eight inevitable.
Elysia is a miracle! Seeing the suffering of the White Eagle, God herself descended to save us!
God is so adorable!
I've joined the Church of Elysia. Lady Elysia is our deity!
Do you acknowledge Elysia's unparalleled beauty?
Over the past week, such sentiments had spread like wildfire throughout White Eagle. Even Wrath, the leader of this cult organization, couldn't help but wonder: could Elysia truly be God incarnate, sent to save this nation?
Wrath knew his only recourse was to spread the faith of the Blood God as widely as possible before Elysia took office, hoping to amass enough followers to make things difficult for the Eldritch Concord once she assumed power.
But this very task was giving Wrath a headache. Just that day, he had received an utterly absurd report:
His cultists, while proselytizing in public, had encountered another group doing the same, and a brawl had erupted between them!
Wrath frowned deeply. Wait, who in their right mind accosts strangers on the street to preach their doctrines, let alone starts a fight over it?
"Christianity?" Wrath asked.
The cultist shook his head.
"Catholicism? Islam?" Wrath pressed.
The cultist shook his head again.
Wrath's confusion deepened. "Then what the hell was it?"
"The Church of Elysia," the cultist replied.
Wrath stared blankly. "...Huh?"
No... wait, what?
What in the world is that?
Wrath's brow furrowed so deeply it nearly formed a V-shape. It was well-known that White Eagle enjoyed extreme religious freedom, where even something as absurd as the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster could thrive. This very tolerance was one reason why the Eldritch Concord had flourished so rapidly in the region.
But isn't this Church of Elysia a bit too abstract?
Normally, the gods of religion are ethereal, non-existent entities. It is precisely this absence that allows people to project their faith and hope onto them. Anything that actually exists inevitably has flaws and imperfections, lacking the mystery and divinity that inspires devotion.
Conversely, perhaps Elysia is worthy of worship precisely because she lacks divinity—because of her overwhelming humanity.
Of course, the Church of Elysia's success also owes much to White Eagle's fervent embrace of individual heroism.
An Outsider, a God incarnate, with a personable demeanor and unparalleled beauty, destined to become one of the next White Eagle Eight, combined with Baldy Burke's tireless promotional efforts—these cumulative advantages have given rise to the Church of Elysia as we know it today.
Wrath gritted his teeth. "Damn that pink-haired woman! Why does she show up everywhere?!"
Enraged, Wrath grabbed his phone and frantically contacted other high-ranking members of the Eldritch Concord. "Anyone there? Help! I need assistance here immediately!"
The perspective shifted back to Old John, who had just left the alley and stepped onto the main street. A young man immediately approached him.
"Excuse me, sir," the youth said, "would you be interested in learning about our incomparably beautiful Lady Elysia, the Divine Mistress whose beauty is unmatched in all the world?"
As he spoke, the young man deftly produced a photograph from his pocket. It showed Elysia smiling directly at the camera, and the mere sight of that radiant smile was enough to brighten anyone's day.