Miss Witch’s Devotion Has Gone… Twisted

The snow this Christmas was exceptionally heavy, but fortunately, the church mages were clearing the path ahead. Under the protection of magic, it didn’t feel that cold.

”Master Mentor...”

The black-dressed girl behind Loren suddenly grabbed the hem of his clothes, her golden eyes filled with fear as she kept stealing glances at the church members around them.

The girl wore a long black gauze dress, revealing only her ankles covered by black pantyhose. Her silvery-white hair was slightly wavy, almost completely covering her back.

Wearing high heels, she stood almost as tall as Loren.

”It’s alright, I’m here.”

Loren grasped the girl’s hand, his body warmth transmitting through his palm, gradually calming her emotions.

The girl’s name was Naclis, a witch. Twelve years ago, when she was just eight years old, she was adopted by Loren who had recently transmigrated. Her fear was understandable - the church’s hatred for witches even exceeded their hatred for demons, and their destination today was indeed the church.

Today was the day of the Bountiful Harvest Festival held by the Bountiful Church. The festival occurred only once every twelve years, making it the grandest event for the Bountiful Church. Everyone was required to attend, which was why Loren risked bringing the witch along.

Witches could almost be considered the perfect beings. Every witch possessed supremely perfect appearances, powerful innate talents, and their ages remained fixed at their prime.If Loren didn’t hold a high position, the two witches would easily be discovered due to their appearances.

The festival’s content was quite simple - amidst hymns of praise, the selected sacrifice would ”plant” tens of thousands of twisted children for the God of Bountiful Harvest. Yes, tens of thousands, ”planted.” The God of Bountiful Harvest, despite being a righteous god, was more twisted than many evil gods. This was one of the most ridiculous aspects of this world - whether righteous gods, evil gods, or outer gods, none were normal.

This year also marked Loren’s twelfth year since transmigrating to this world. This was a game called ”Finale,” and Loren had been a devoted player, even composing lyrics and covering many songs for the game.

When Loren first transmigrated twelve years ago, he had nothing, all his attributes were at their minimum, and he had no means to level up.

However, this festival presented the best opportunity. The fastest way to gain power was through sacrifice, especially sacrifices to outer gods. The children of the God of Bountiful Harvest were undoubtedly the best offerings, which was why he risked attending this festival. Loren had already tampered with the altar in advance.

In the game, there was a Master Mentor, immensely knowledgeable, who could provide assistance to newcomers. When Loren intended to find her, he discovered he had transmigrated to the wrong timeline - the mentor wasn’t here yet. Eventually, Loren could only survive by singing for money, earning quite a bit from copying songs, incidentally becoming a music teacher, and using his extensive game knowledge to answer others’ questions. It wasn’t until Loren noticed many people calling him ”Master Mentor” that he suddenly realized he had become the game’s mentor instead...

As for the real mentor... she was currently working as a maid in Loren’s home...

With his thorough knowledge of the game’s plot and settings, Loren couldn’t have done nothing all these years. Today was the moment to change everything.

”Master Mentor, I’m hungry.”

Suddenly, a pale, delicate little hand grabbed Loren’s other arm and began shaking it. The girl’s pink twin-tails swayed along with the motion. She wore a gothic long dress, her exposed lower legs wrapped in white stockings. Her small face was pale with a rosy blush, carrying some baby fat, her sparkling bright pink eyes fixed on Loren. But Loren had long grown accustomed:

”Eat, eat, eat, all you think about is eating! Can’t you be more mindful!”

”Mindful? Where are the snacks?”

Looking at the girl’s adorably clueless expression, Loren couldn’t resist tapping her on the head.

Loren found it hard to imagine that she would eventually become the Gluttony Witch, one of the [Seven Sins] and one of the game’s strongest bosses. However, Loren could understand - after all, she had been found by Naclis when she was still an infant. They had arrived together at Loren’s doorstep on a snowy night seeking help. She didn’t have a name back then; Anna was the name Loren casually gave her. It was only as she grew up that Loren recognized her identity.

The reason she was called the Gluttony Witch was simple - she loved eating, and she loved killing people even more. Killing was like eating to her, a way to satisfy her desires, and her appetite would only grow larger.

However, the most bitter thing Anna had eaten in her life so far was black coffee. Her experiences were completely different from the game, and the fundamental reason for her corruption in the game was her sister’s death. Now, her sister was still by Loren’s side, living well.

Witches had long lifespans but simple minds, deeply loyal and emotional. Unless they experienced extreme suffering, they wouldn’t corrupt. But this mad world would indiscriminately devour everyone.

Just how simple-minded were these witches? Even the Lust Witch, one of the [Seven Sins], was a blank slate. Witches were born with several blessings, one of which prevented others from having impure thoughts about them.

But someone might ask: with witches having such long lifespans, being so beautiful, isn’t their simplicity somewhat unrealistic?

You’re absolutely right. Transmigration is real, magic is real, gods are real, but pure love is not.

”We’ve arrived, Master Mentor. Please preside over the ceremony.”

The church clergy member was covered in straw, with new sprouts growing from the straw, making it difficult to see his face. This was a way to draw closer to the deity, providing more faith to the god, who in turn could grant him more power.

Therefore, these people were also called ”Scarecrows.” Scarecrows were guardians of the wheat fields, and they were also messengers of the God of Bountiful Harvest.

The crowd didn’t enter the church. There were so many participants in this festival that the church couldn’t accommodate them all, requiring an additional altar to be set up outside. Dense crowds surrounded the altar, yet a pathway was still reserved for Loren.

From beginning to end, Loren received grand treatment. Not only did church members make a special trip to his home to fetch him, but even now the closest positions to the altar were specially reserved for Loren, complete with instruments. The entire ceremony was to be presided over by him. After all, Loren had provided them with more effective hymns of praise, earning him a status in the church comparable to that of a bishop.

”Let’s begin, Master Mentor.”

The white-clothed youth on the altar stood barefoot on the ground’s runes. He straightened his clothes and bowed to Loren.

He was this ceremony’s sacrifice.

No one noticed the runes on the altar had been tampered with, except for Loren, the instigator. Given his status, it was easy for him to accomplish this.

The youth knew his fate. Most people here knew what would happen next, but they had grown accustomed to it. In their view, Loren’s perspective was the abnormal one.

”Hmm.”

Good advice can’t stop those destined to die. Loren had no intention of saving them just to pat himself on the back.

Standing in the center position, Loren picked up the conductor’s baton. Under his direction, solemn hymns began to play. Hundreds of thousands of people sang the same song in unison like machines, while the white-clothed youth danced gracefully upon the altar.

As the song progressed, the youth’s steps gradually became clumsy. Roots continuously grew from the pores of his body, inserting into the altar and eventually anchoring him in place.

Branches formed from condensed flesh and blood tore through the youth’s scalp, growing at extreme speed. In the blink of an eye, they became as thick as bowls, pitted and uneven. As they continued growing, the pits expanded, revealing themselves to be human faces.

The branches eventually grew into a colossal tree of flesh and blood, the densely packed human faces becoming increasingly clear, developing facial features. The trunk, branches, leaves... all were identical human faces. The eye sockets of those faces contained no eyeballs. They strained to open their mouths, tearing apart connected lips, and began singing hymns of praise. Tens of thousands of mouths sang in unison, eerily synchronized, the sound deafening. Loren, standing closest, felt his brain vibrating.

Each face represented a devout believer. This single flesh and blood giant tree equivalent to nearly a hundred thousand believers could provide the deity with massive amounts of faith. The God of Bountiful Harvest didn’t lack believers, so He didn’t care how many of His followers starved to death. In His view, a living farmer held the same value as a single face on the flesh and blood tree.

The ceremony reached its climax as blood-red moonlight enveloped the entire world, blurring the blood flowing from the youth’s seven orifices.

The time had come. Loren’s face was hidden within his black robe’s hood as he murmured incantations:

”God of Greed, Abyssal Devourer Pluto, I offer all the believers upon this altar to you. Please grant me mana points and the blessing of [Truth Discernment].”

As Loren spoke the outer god’s honorable name, the runes previously hidden on the altar emitted a faint glow. The starlight instantly became brilliant, the pale starlight swallowing the bloody moonlight.