This was a world where people ate people.
Literally.
Norton finished the mass in a daze and received his blessing, only to see two large cauldrons set up at the church entrance.
The aroma of cooking meat wafted from the cauldrons. Though he couldn't see what was cooking inside, the pile of bloodstained rags beside them made it easy enough to guess.
The aroma drew a large crowd of beggars dressed in rags.
But what was in the cauldrons wasn't for them.
Today was the weekly mass, and the church was naturally providing an extra meal.
Norton had always liked Sundays, because the weekly mass meant he could have a meal with meat that day instead of the usual black bread and thin porridge.
But as of today, he didn't think he liked them anymore.
"May the children of God bathe in his radiance..."
Father Mia's voice rang out at the church entrance, surrounded by a crowd of poor people.
They gazed at Father Mia as he spoke before them, their faces full of reverence and devotion, as though they truly were basking in God's grace.
But there was no telling whether they truly believed in God or simply wanted him to grant them everything they desired.
Their gazes were even more fervent than Father Mia's, perhaps because they had placed all their hopes in God.
Norton stood listlessly behind Father Mia with the other missionaries, mechanically murmuring "baptism" as he prepared to receive God's blessing.
His eyes were vacant, and he was clearly lost in his own world again.
This won't do. It's too damn hard to get by in this world. This shitty church treats people like livestock!
Norton stared blankly ahead as thoughts flashed through his mind.
Twenty years of confinement, cannibalism, and all the damned rules that could cost him his life for a single mistake-the restraints on Norton felt like a rope tight around his neck, ready to hang him at any moment.
No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't see any other way out.
Should I follow Zhang Jiao's example and declare, "God is dead; Norton shall rise"?
But he didn't think he could accomplish such a great undertaking. He had no particular abilities, hadn't learned any professional skills in the past twenty years, and had even almost forgotten his memories of his previous life. Now he was just as useless as the other missionaries raised in the church.
Norton had a slight realization. He hadn't quite understood why the church kept them penned up like this, but now it seemed highly likely that it was to turn them into good-for-nothings who knew only how to obey!
That way, the church would always have a supply of utterly loyal believers.
It seemed the people at the top of the church weren't as incompetent as he'd thought. Of course, the most likely explanation was that they passed their positions down through the generations, unlike missionaries like him, who had always been kept penned up.
Norton's gaze settled on Father Mia, who was still delivering his speech with all his might at the front, and he became even more certain of his guess.
After the previous priest of the Holy Lord Cathedral died of old age, his successor hadn't been chosen from within the cathedral. The archbishop who controlled the region had appointed him directly and sent him in from outside.
So it was quite possible that, by the time someone became a priest, he was already a true insider, unlike tools like them, raised on a production line.
A chill ran through Norton's heart.
He had originally thought this so-called church and papal state were merely strong on the outside and weak within, but now it seemed highly likely that they had their own system for keeping things running.
That would make rebellion a little difficult.
While he was still imagining it, the atmosphere at the mass had reached its peak.
"Father! May your radiance shine..."
Father Mia's aged voice grew increasingly impassioned. The "father" he spoke of was none other than God Caesar.
As soon as the priest finished speaking, the missionaries around him sprang into action.
Some took bowls, others took ladles, and all the missionaries of the Holy Lord Cathedral lined up to receive a bowl each of the broth cooked in the cauldrons.
As a newly appointed missionary, Norton was naturally afforded this honor as well. He carefully followed at the very end of the line, a small bowl in his hand and unease in his heart.
Of course he didn't want to eat the meat. One look at the pile of ragged clothing beside the cauldrons told him nothing good was cooking inside.
But he couldn't refuse it, either, because this was God's blessing. The church knights nearby watched with shadowed eyes. Clearly, anyone who dared refuse God's blessing was a heretic and would be cut down with a greatsword!
Norton didn't want to be dealt with, so he could only take as little as possible.
There was also a ritual to eating during mass: before the meal, they had to pray together.
As a newly appointed missionary, Norton stood at the very end of the line. Forcing down his nausea, he joined the others in prayer, but his eyes remained fixed on the broth in his bowl.
A layer of fat covered the surface of the broth, and its rich aroma filled the air.
A dry skeleton definitely couldn't make broth this greasy...
"May God's..." The prayers went on and on.
The missionaries around him all wore fervent expressions. He didn't know whether they were pretending or not. But judging by their twenty years of isolation, their fervor was most likely genuine.
The prayer proceeded very slowly, and it finally ended only after the broth had gone completely cold.
Then, led by Father Mia, all the missionaries raised their bowls.
Feeling the church knights' icy gazes behind him, Norton closed his eyes in resignation.
At that moment, he suddenly had an illusion.
He was actually no different from the food in the cauldrons; only their labels were different.
"Gulp... gulp... urgh..."
The pungent aroma of meat filled Norton's mouth, and his stomach greedily absorbed the protein and fat it had waited so long to receive, but the discomfort in his heart had already overwhelmed him completely.
Perhaps that was the only difference between him and the other meat: he had a soul that had lived in modern times.
And that was a sign of impurity.