Desires & Heresy

The cathedral halls were deathly still, the kind of silence that clung to the air like a held breath.

Zane walked ahead, unhurried, his steps soundless against the polished marble. Behind him, Senior High Priest Gregor followed, his heavy robes sweeping along the floor. His fingers drummed idly against his legs, the weight of his gold rings clinking with each casual motion.

"Zion, my boy," Gregor mused, his voice warm, indulgent. "I have to say, I didn't expect you to bring me here at this hour. Must be something important, hmm?"

Zane chuckled, the sound light, effortless. "You could say that."

Gregor smirked. "I like that about you. The others lack vision. But you? You see the truth."

Zane didn't answer. He didn't need to.

They reached the basement door. Zane pushed it open. The air inside was cool, thick with dust and something faintly metallic.

Gregor stepped in confidently, his eyes moving straight to the chests lined against the walls—stacks of stolen wealth, undisturbed in the dim torchlight. His smirk widened, the flickering glow painting greed across his features.

"Ahhh… This," he exhaled, stepping forward and running his fingers over the lid of a chest, "is what true faith looks like."

The wooden lid lifted with ease, revealing glinting gold within. The soft clinking of coins filled the chamber—a sound like whispered prayers.

Faith, reduced to something that could be counted and hoarded.

"You see, Zion," Gregor continued, rolling a coin between his fingers, "faith is just another currency. You don't spend prayers, you spend gold. That's what keeps this place standing. That's what keeps them believing."

He let the coin fall back into the pile, a hollow clink echoing through the chamber.

Zane said nothing. His expression darkened, unreadable.

Gregor turned, his smirk curling into something conspiratorial. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You understand this. Why else did you bring me here?"

He spread his arms, magnanimous.

"I know what you want. Influence? Power? To climb even higher? You've already done well—winning over the people, feeding the poor, healing the sick." He smirked. "But none of that is free, is it? You know how this works."

Zane finally smiled.

"Of course, Gregor."

His voice was soft, almost kind.

"I know exactly how this works."

And then—he moved.

The knife slid into Gregor's side like a whispered secret.

For a moment, Gregor didn't react. Didn't even gasp. Just a slow, shuddering inhale, his body stiffening as the pain finally registered.

Then—he staggered. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps. His hand flew to the wound, fingers slick with warmth. His wide, disbelieving eyes met Zane's.

"Wh—" His voice faltered.

Zane twisted the blade. A cruel, deliberate motion.

Gregor choked on his next word, his knees buckling. His fingers clawed at Zane's robe, desperation flickering in his gaze.

"W-What… Zion… You—You—Why… Why?"

[Unshaken Will (Activated)]

Zane's face was calm, his hand steady, his amber eyes gleaming with something colder.

He leaned in, his breath cold against Gregor's ear, his voice dripping with mockery.

"I was meant to use you," he whispered, his tone almost pitying.

"That's what people like you are for, isn't it? To serve a purpose."

Gregor shuddered, his lips parting in silent agony.

"And now?" Zane sighed, shaking his head.

"Well, Gregor…" His fingers pressed into the handle, pushing the blade deeper.

"…I don't keep wasteful things."

The final twist.

Gregor's body spasmed. His grip slipped. His mouth trembled, as if trying to form one last plea.

Zane watched.

Waited.

And then—Gregor slumped forward.

The weight of him hit the chest of gold, blood spilling over the coins.

A fitting end.

Zane exhaled slowly, watching the crimson pool spread across stolen wealth. He waited for something—guilt, hesitation, even a flicker of unease.

But there was nothing.

Not even a whisper of doubt.

Was it because of Unshaken Will? 

Or had he always been like this?

He had expected more from his first kill. A moment of hesitation. A sharp pang of regret. Something.

But all he felt was the warmth of blood cooling on his fingers.

"Holy Corruption System."

It had promised him the power to change others. To twist faith and virtue to his will. But had it done more than that?

Had it changed him too?

His fingers flexed absently, still slick with Gregor's blood.

The thought should have disturbed him.

But it didn't.

A soft rustling broke the silence.

Zane didn't flinch.

Slow footsteps echoed from the shadows, hesitant, measured. Figures emerged from the farthest corners of the basement.

Not priests. 

Not thieves.

Desperate men.

A farmer—his hands calloused, his eyes hollow from starvation.

A weary older brother—his fingers trembling, his gaze flicking toward the gold.

A father with nothing left to lose. 

A brother whose younger siblings are starving. 

They had been waiting.

Zane turned to them, his voice smooth, composed.

[Holy Presence (Activated)]

"There is no need for fear," he said gently.

They froze.

His voice settled into their bones like scripture.

He gestured to Gregor's lifeless form. To the stained gold.

"This is not sin." His amber eyes swept over them, commanding yet kind. "This is justice."

None of them spoke.

Zane stepped forward, slow, deliberate.

His voice softened, threading through their thoughts like a quiet prayer.

"You are men who have suffered. Men who have been abandoned by those who claimed to protect you."

He gestured to the chests. To the wealth Gregor hoarded while they starved.

"This gold was stolen from your hands. From your children's mouths. From the graves of those who died waiting for the mercy that never came."

A sharp inhale. A clenched fist.

Doubt flickered.

Then died.

Zane's voice dropped to a whisper.

"If the church does not deliver justice… then I will."

A moment of silence.

Then—a slow, hesitant nod.

One by one, they bent down, lifting Gregor's body.

They would take care of it.

Zane had promised them coins.

But more than that—he had given them reason.

And they believed him.

They trusted him.

Because when they looked at him, they did not see a sinner.

They saw a savior.

The sun rose, casting golden light through the stained-glass windows.

Eleanor knelt at the grand altar.

Her hands were steady. Her breath even.

The whispers had already spread.

"Senior High Priest Gregor is found dead."

Some said it was divine punishment.

Some said it was fate.

Some of Gregor's peers—his fellow Senior High Priests—were shocked by his death.

But no one questioned how, or why.

Eleanor lowered her head, her lips moving in silent prayer.

Behind her, Zane stood in the shadows. Watching.

The cathedral filled with voices, the faithful chanting in unison.

Eleanor exhaled slowly.

She did not pray for forgiveness.

Only for strength.

But the gods did not answer.

[Eleanor Corruption: 72%]

[Progression Reward: "Euphoric Touch"] – Each touch of the host heightens arousal.

[Time Left: 3 months, 2 days]