Meanwhile, outside the Spire’s range.
A group of fifty people stood outside, watching the spire’s rotten rain from a distance. They were told by the vassals to infiltrate the region, and their task was to gather intel.
Intel about the strange structure, the enemies within, basically anything that would help them take down the undead.
However, none of them dared to step in.
They had a feeling that their deaths awaited them on the other side.
Even the seven priests were afraid.
"Do we have to go in?" a girl with a bow and arrow called out.
There were a few nods. Sure, they had joined the cult, but wasn’t their task a bit too extreme for an initiation ceremony?
The cult of the Absolutes.
A cult that served a strange entity called the Blightlord.
No one except the core members knew much about their operations.
Most of the recruits didn’t even know what their so-called lord and savior looked like. They just knew the cult provided them with food, weapons, and most importantly, shelter.
In return, the cult only asked for one thing.
Absolute devotion to the Blightlord.
Hence their name: The cult of the Absolutes.
For now, they had gathered a group of recruits from around San Diego and nearby areas for their initiation ceremony. Once they passed, they’d join the first rank, called the Zealots.
The chosen thought the test would be a simple one. Probably along the lines of killing zombies. None of them had imagined they’d be given the dangerous task of investigating an undead structure.
As they waited for the examiners to show up, the group debated among themselves.
Some wanted to leave and return to their camps. Others thought it was part of their test to prove their loyalty. Then there was a group that remained quiet, refusing to take either side.
Just then, a balding man in his forties made a bold decision.
"To hell with this," he said, waving his hand. "I did not leave San Diego just to get dragged back here!"
"Oi, keep your voice down! They can hear you."
A young man urged, but the oldies didn’t listen.
"As if I care," the man said, turning to the rest. "You don’t know half of what’s waiting for us there. I know it because I barely escaped the crater! How are we supposed to infiltrate someone who killed a protector?"
Murmurs spread across the crowd. Not many of them knew about Blaze, but everyone knew what a menace the protectors were.
The balding man was one of the people Neha had tasked with distracting the walkers inside the crater. He saw everything that happened there. That was until the hooded figure of the cult saved him.
That’s when he decided to join the cult and dedicate his life to his saviors.
However, his resolve was as weak as his power. Just the thought of encountering Blaze made the man shiver like a twig.
"I’m telling you all," he continued. "Challenging that man is suicide—!"
The man was in the middle of inciting the crowd when a figure draped in a foul-smelling hood appeared behind him.
The man froze in his spot, unable to do anything. Many thought it was because of fear, but they were far from correct.
The cloaked woman behind him had restricted him to the spot as she pocketed a rock from the ground. A second later, two more people appeared behind her, wearing similar cloaks.
"Enforcers..." the young man from before mumbled.
Everyone instinctively stepped back the moment those three arrived.
One could say that if the Zealots were E-ranking members, then the Enforcers were B-ranked members of the cult. Not just their rank, but their strength and abilities far exceeded those gathered to take the test.
How did they know all that?
Because it was the Enforcers that gave them the safety they craved.
They were also the ones responsible for dishing out punishments to those who went against the Blightlord’s will.
"The cult of... Absolutes," the cloaked woman chuckled, tapping her fingers on the bald man’s head. "You’re aware of what that means, don’t you?"
The man wanted to nod, but remained frozen in place.
Ignoring the man, the woman turned to face the rest of them. She pointed at the young man, gesturing for him to step closer.
"What are the ’Three Absolute Rules’?" she asked, caressing his cheek.
"H-Have absolute faith in the Blightlord."
"Show absolute obedience towards the seniors."
"Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Go on."
"Maintain absolute secrecy from those outside the cult."
"Very nice! Everyone, cheer for our little genius!" the woman chuckled, ruffling the man’s hair.
Everyone clapped without fail. Not because the young did something extraordinary, but because it was an instruction from their senior.
The young man smiled weakly, but it disappeared when the woman threw her arm over his shoulder. It had nothing to do with the woman, but with the smell that her cloak gave off.
"Now then, my dearest junior," she whispered in his ear, pointing at the bald man. "Which rules did this guy break?"
"T-The first two... ma’am."
"What do we call those who break the rules?"
"And... what punishment is befitting such a crime?"
"I-Immediate e-execution..."
The woman didn’t say anything else. She just placed an odd-looking gun in the young man’s hand and walked away.
The man gulped his saliva. The intention was obvious, yet the man didn’t fire the weapon.
"What are you waiting for?" the woman asked, reappearing behind the man.
"...instructions, ma’am."
A few people gasped, thinking the woman had made it obvious.
However, instead of scolding the man, the woman booped his nose.
"Aren’t you a smart cookie?" she said. "I’ll tell you what. As long as you kill the heretic, I’ll make you my zealot, or you can give me the gun back and take the test like the rest."
The man looked behind at the rainy veil, then at the frozen bald man. It was a straightforward decision.
The heretic must be punished.