Laying the groundwork

Freddy's heart and mind were now filled with Klein. Full of anticipation, he boarded a plane for the place where, according to his investigation, I had been treated: that sanatorium in Germany.

He thought that if Klein could still stay awake, he would have a good talk with him. He would settle down here, where he could at least see me every day. If I could not stay awake, that was all right too. He was now an expert in this field, the foremost expert. He would spare no effort and hold nothing back in treating Klein. He would definitely cure him.

The place was even more remote than he had imagined, but that did not diminish his eagerness to see Klein in the slightest. He came full of anticipation, transferring from a plane to a train, then from a train to a car.

But when Freddy finally arrived at the sanatorium with his people, weary from the journey, all he found was devastation. This supposed laboratory and sanatorium specializing in sleep disorders like Klein's was nothing but a dilapidated ruin.

Freddy stared at it all in disbelief, almost driven mad. Defeat and frustration swept in with despair. Everything he had done over the years had been for this. He had made the most thorough preparations for this day, but...

He sank to his knees among the crumbling walls. No one knew what he was thinking. Or perhaps it could be said that Freddy had vaguely sensed something.

After returning, Freddy gave up the medical work he had been researching all along and instead founded a company specializing in biomedical research. Using genetic screening or some other pretext, he obtained a detailed "family member list."

These wealthy people all had enormous families. People with money cared a great deal about this, about whether there would be someone to inherit their wealth after they died.

But Freddy discovered something they had in common. Every year, one family member would disappear from each of these families, whether publicly or in secret. Some were not connected by blood at all. The missing included wives and sons, with only one factor in common: they were all family members.

Freddy obtained all the files and discovered that every disappearance was attributed to an accident or illness. Nearly a third of these people had no records at all; they had simply vanished without reason. Yet the word "deceased" would swiftly be stamped on their population records without any basis. Someone had clearly done this deliberately. As for who had done it-who had the power to do such a thing? Freddy offered no opinion.

Of course, in a family that large, a few deaths seemed perfectly normal, whether because of this or that, or simply the accidents they claimed. But it was too regular. These disappearances were mostly concentrated in summer and autumn, and Freddy keenly noticed that this was also the period when Klein had fallen ill and been taken away.

What was the purpose of doing this? With barely any thought, Freddy immediately arrived at a general idea. Perhaps this was some kind of sacrifice.

Freddy had no choice but to start learning about the occult.

But these people seemed a little too sensitive. He had barely extended a few tiny, inconspicuous tendrils into these unfamiliar fields before someone contacted him.

But given how things were developing now, this had clearly gone far beyond Freddy's expectations.

He convulsed. The resentment pent up inside him mingled with his prolonged despair and complicated feelings toward Klein, and under the influence of some evil power, something else was forcibly brought into being.

But Freddy was not the only one whose expectations these developments had exceeded. They had exceeded those of the cultists below as well.

This was their first time seeing such a reaction. They looked up at Freddy, who gradually calmed down. Apart from appearing slightly disheveled, he seemed unchanged, but the cultists below seemed to sense something and prostrated themselves on the ground.

This could hardly be called a sacrifice. At most, it was a punishment they used on those who dared pry into their secrets and offend their great lord. Those people would usually be beguiled into becoming one of them, or simply frightened into insanity. Most went insane, of course, and would then disappear for no apparent reason.

But they had never seen anyone like Freddy before.

Meanwhile, perhaps thanks to the influence of this inexplicable power, these psychologically warped cultists, whose humanity had all but vanished, really had gained some abilities that set them apart from ordinary people. At this very moment, for instance, they keenly sensed that some tremendous, evil change had occurred in Freddy, one that filled them with fear.

The gentleman leading them took Freddy to see their bishop, the head pervert.

Freddy was unusually silent. No, it would be more accurate to say that he had become unusually repressed.

The narrow underground corridor was damp and chilly. Candlelight cast twisted, wavering shadows on the walls. The old gentleman walked ahead with restrained steps, occasionally stealing a glance back at Freddy.

All the surrounding cultists instinctively kept their distance from him. The evil aura hidden beneath Freddy's flesh, constantly churning, was everywhere. Like a beast lurking in the shadows, it sent chills down their spines.

Freddy did not look around. His gaze rested squarely on the closed doors at the end of the corridor.

The doors slowly swung inward.

A magnificent stone altar stood in the center of the hall. The structure was imposing, at least three stories tall, yet exquisitely wrought. Every part had been painstakingly carved into grotesque forms, as though its builders and sculptors had personally gathered their material from hell. Even looking at it caused intense psychological and physical discomfort.

An inexplicable, nauseating herbal smell hung in the air, mingled with a faint scent of blood. There was an inexplicable cloying sweetness to it that made one feel drowsy.

The bishop, clad in a pitch-black robe, slowly turned around. Beneath his hood was a bizarre, disgusting face. The muscles crisscrossed his entire face, as repulsive as tangled caterpillars. At the very least, it was not a normal human face.

At the same time, something seemed to be pulled out of Freddy's body. It was those three things. Giggling, they circled Freddy a few times before all darting behind the altar and vanishing from sight.

The bishop spoke first, his tone even, betraying neither pleasure nor anger. "Don't worry. Som, Morphe, and Ino have only returned temporarily to the lord's side. You are the one they have chosen. They will grant you your duties. You will know your work."

"And welcome to our new companion. Congratulations on becoming the emissary of our great lords, Som, Morphe, and Ino. A servant of the great Lord of the Mountains, the Feeder of Life, the holy Chaugnar Faugn."

What followed was a series of incomprehensible rituals, involving nothing more than intestines, bones, hearts, brains, and the like, accompanied by screams. Yes, all of these were taken from living people.

Freddy felt terribly sick.

Afterward, Freddy was dressed in a robe and followed the bishop in taking an oath.

Apparently, there should also have been a pact ritual, but because of the three tadpole-like things that had entered Freddy's body, he had already undergone everything he needed to. That ritual was therefore waived, with only a brief formality in its place.

Then the bishop told Freddy the three great tenets of this magnificent church.

"First, offer one sacrifice to our lord every year."

"They will be selected from your blood relatives or your wife. Rest assured, our great and merciful lord will not take what you cherish, unless he is the only one, or has some special use that can contribute to our lord."

"Second, betrayal is absolutely forbidden."

"Everything you have comes from the lord's mercy. If you harbor thoughts of betrayal..." The bishop paused, then said, "You will not want to know the consequences."

"Third, the lord will grant you power. You must offer your faith, respecting and worshipping Him from the bottom of your heart."

"But there is no need to worry about this one. As an emissary, you will naturally serve the lord wholeheartedly."

Freddy finally spoke his first words in hours.

"What about those sacrifices?"

"Underground."

The bishop spoke.

"Our merciful and great Lord of a Thousand Forms and Dreams, the Creator of Countless Illusions, will not take their lives. They are dreaming sweet dreams a few feet beneath your feet."

The bishop raised his eyes. Hidden beneath thick, tumor-like eyelids were a pair of small but sharp eyes, like those of a beast or an insect. He seemed to notice something and continued.

"Very well. For the sake of your loyalty, and to eliminate your ignorance completely, I shall grant you the supreme honor of being allowed a glimpse. I will make you come to know our lord."

Freiti followed him through a doorway. From that point on, no one knew what happened inside.

All that was known was that when Freddy left, the same gentleman still led the way. But the gentleman, whose lofty status, position, and wealth far surpassed Freddy's, had an entirely different attitude.

His earlier, deliberately feigned air of superiority and nobility had vanished without a trace. Now he was practically like a clumsy, fawning kangaroo walking through the snow.

"Dear emissary, forgive my earlier actions, as well as the fact that I must address you by name once we leave this sacred place. Rest assured, now that you have become our companion, your career will soar. At the same time, you will become our lord's slave and gain supreme glory..."

Freddy followed him expressionlessly, his face pale. He merely asked, seemingly casually, "Are there any criteria for selecting sacrifices?"

The gentleman immediately exclaimed, "As expected of the emissary, already making plans for the sacrifices."

He immediately answered ingratiatingly, "Don't worry. Before that, the lord will send a sign. Generally, they are relatively young and healthy people. Apart from that, there are essentially no criteria."

Freddy immediately realized something was wrong. Klein had been so seriously ill back then. By rights, he should never have been chosen. Could falling asleep and never waking up have been the sign?

"What sort of sign?" Freddy continued to ask.

The gentleman shook his head. "I am not worthy of knowing such things. They are usually conveyed by the bishop."

"But rest assured, the lord is merciful. He greatly favors his servants. You and I will not be chosen."