As the believers prayed devoutly, Death responded to them. The candlelight shifted to darkness, the inverted triangle symbol turned pitch black for a moment, and eight tentacles spread out from both sides, pointing at the warehouse ceiling and writhing chaotically.

Wayne Baker was entranced, and in a daze, he seemed to hear something by his ear—a deep voice softly whispered, asking if he would offer up everything without reservation.

Wait a minute, why does the voice of the goddess of death sound so manly?

Wayne Baker was shocked and confused. Could it be that the goddess of death is actually male, and chose to cross-dress to better harvest followers?

As Wayne Baker's thoughts wandered off track, the whisper by his ear abruptly stopped. He snapped out of his trance and found that the surrounding believers had already stopped praying, and were all looking at him.

Suddenly becoming the center of attention, Wayne Baker couldn't help but swallow nervously.

The dim surroundings, coupled with the believers covering most of their faces, made it impossible for Wayne Baker to see their expressions. He could only imagine one fierce face after another, eyes burning with rage.

What was even more outrageous was that William Johnson bared his teeth and joined the other side, shouting while retreating behind the crowd.

You said you would protect me!

"Intruder, this is not a place you should be."

Someone stepped out from the crowd, probably the leader. With a wave of his large hand, he signaled his companions to step forward and pin down Wayne Baker.

Perhaps smelling the aura of death on Wayne Baker, he grinned and threatened that Wayne Baker would receive the goddess's blessing tonight and be fully transformed into one of them.

Oh, come on, your goddess is a total man, her voice is so rough!

Wayne Baker kept backing away, holding the crowbar across his chest. Seeing the believers all standing still, his courage suddenly surged.

Take back what I said before—a crowbar is truly man's best friend.

Then Wayne Baker saw the believers each pick up steel pipes from the shelves. About twenty people grinned menacingly and walked toward him.

Sweating profusely, Wayne Baker said dryly, "Is this really necessary? No need for a group brawl. How about... we just use our fists? That way, the sentence will be lighter."

Bang!!

The high window at the end of the warehouse shattered, and a slender figure leapt in, sprinting to the center of the warehouse at lightning speed.

It was Veronica Smith. She hadn't wasted the opportunity Wayne Baker had fought for. While the believers were away from the candle array, she smashed a glass jar hard at the center of the inverted triangle symbol.

After a crisp shattering sound, a cloud of green mist rose up. Lush plants grew rapidly, brimming with vitality, disrupting the rhythm of death and causing the eight spider legs to quickly wither and droop limply.

"Damn it, it's the claws of nature!"

"Catch the heretic! She ruined the sacred ritual—she must pay the price!"

The leader flew into a rage, and the believers howled as they changed targets, waving steel pipes and charging at Veronica Smith.

At that moment, the warehouse lights suddenly came on—William Johnson had found the power switch on the wall.

Veronica Smith narrowed her eyes slightly. Facing twenty burly men charging at her with steel pipes, she calmly opened her small bag and took out a delicate, compact pistol.

"Nobody move. If anyone moves, I'll shoot."

The believers all stopped in unison. At William Johnson's shout, they cursed and put down their steel pipes, standing in a line against the wall with their hands up.

Wayne Baker: "..."

That's it? It's over?

So this is the brutal struggle of faith? This is what a mage's battle looks like?

What a bunch of cowards. Aren't you all followers of the goddess of death? Aren't you supposed to face death fearlessly? Why are you so afraid of dying?

Come on, she's just one person with a pistol—at most ten bullets. There are twenty of you. If you all rush her, she can't possibly win!

Chapter 7: The Curse

The brutal battle of faith ended with the collective surrender of the death cultists, leaving Wayne Baker feeling awkward and unsatisfied.

He admitted the power of a pistol, but this just killed the atmosphere. All his complicated mental drama was for nothing.

The shameless behavior of the death cultists also made Wayne Baker lose even the basic respect for the gods of this world. On second thought, it made sense—a cross-dressing boss harvesting followers by selling an image. When the top is crooked, the bottom can't be straight. You can't expect the followers of death to be unyielding.

Wayne Baker sighed with emotion. Well, this was fine too. He was just an ordinary guy. If the world was safe, so was he.

Nearby, the believers stood in a line against the wall with their hands up. William Johnson, relying on his strength, went down the line and greeted each captive with some physical persuasion.

One of the faces was very familiar to Wayne Baker—the dockworker Blake Turner, who was knocked to the ground by one of William Johnson's smooth combos.

Oyster root, A-du root, add add Bru-gen (X)

Left hook, right hook, rising dragon punch (√)

Magic really is that simple and unpretentious!

Once everyone had quieted down, Veronica Smith began the interrogation, using the same old trick—those mushrooms so delicious they caused hallucinations.

Veronica Smith had been tracking the death walker all the way, and didn't expect to make such a huge breakthrough in such a short time, successfully wiping out one of their strongholds. But as the interrogation went on, she couldn't help but feel disappointed.

The death walker hadn't attended the gathering tonight. The supposed leader was just a low-level errand boy. Not only had Veronica Smith come up empty-handed, but she had also alerted the enemy.

The chances of catching them by waiting were too low. When Veronica Smith asked about the death walker's whereabouts, the answer she got was: he went back home to get married.