CHAPTER 247: NEW RELIGION?

A cold wind swept across the plaza, rustling coats and stirring the heavy clouds above into a slow, oppressive churn. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.

All eyes were drawn to the lone figure standing on the stage—a young man veiled in a shadow so absolute, it seemed less like darkness and more like a distortion of reality itself. He stood unmoving, as if standing at the threshold of some ancient gate, not delivering a speech but passing sentence.

The man spoke, and the silence shattered.

"I despise politicians—parasites who weaponize fear and feed on the will of others."

Behind him, the massive screen flickered to life, replacing his spectral form with a live feed from inside a high-security prison. A solitary confinement cell. A middle-aged man in a standard orange jumpsuit sat crouched in a corner, clutching his skull, his face twisted in raw terror.

Foam spilled from his mouth. He slammed his head against the concrete.

Once... Twice... Again...

Bang.

Bang.

The sound echoed across the plaza like a slow, distant execution.

Two glowing red labels hovered at the top corners of the screen:

LIVE | Shelter City 3 – Block Omega / High-Risk Treason Offenders

Below, a data bar streamed quietly: the prisoner’s name, age, crime history, and sentence length. Lines of cold text that told the story of a man who had betrayed his nation.

Adyr’s voice returned—measured, emotionless, and merciless.

"I loathe those who slaughter their kin—cowards who collapse beneath life’s weight and choose to drag others into their fall."

The screen shifted again.

LIVE | Shelter City 7 – Block Sigma / Heinous Crime Convicts

Now it cycled through a torrent of prison feeds, one after another. Siblings’ murderers. Filicides. Child abusers. Dozens of faces twisted in agony. Men and women alike screamed in terror, some begging, others whispering prayers, their mouths foaming, limbs seizing, and eyes rolling back as if hell itself had reached through the walls to claim them.

"I hate most those who feed on chaos—the vultures who manipulate others’ downfalls, selfishly reaping what they did not sow."

The screen flickered once more, the LIVE label flashing boldly in the corner.

Shelter City 12 – Block Delta / Organized Crime Lords

The feed jumped from cell to cell, revealing hardened criminals—gang leaders, cartel bosses, and masterminds of violence. Their faces, etched with scars and cold cruelty, twisted in shock and panic. They writhed in their cells, screaming curses, their voices raw and desperate.

Some banged their fists against cold walls, others whispered frantic pleas for mercy. Limbs convulsed uncontrollably, and eyes rolled back as if gripped by unseen torment.

Malice was a power so overwhelming that it could make even lifeless stones and trees shake in terror. Now, everyone saw firsthand the devastating effect when that same force was unleashed in full on aware, rational minds.

Each one was dying—publicly, viscerally, and without dignity.

Adyr fell silent, matching the hushed stillness of the crowd, each person’s gaze locked on him, every twitch of their faces recorded by his sharp eyes.

He saw fear, terror, and horror—yet beneath those darker shades flickered sparks of satisfaction, grim glee, fanatic fervor, and a strange, almost reckless joy. But amid this storm of emotions, there was one expression that stood out on every face—the one Adyr had come to witness: understanding.

They all grasped a single, unspoken truth. A new order was rising—one where chaos had no place, only rules that must be obeyed. Disobedience meant suffering the fate of the prisoners displayed live on the giant screen.

Though Adyr spoke with words of hate and spite for them, he himself was no different from the criminals he condemned—a feared, reviled figure in his own right. Yet, his message was distinct.

He was no ordinary criminal; he was a territorial beast guarding his domain. Anyone who disturbed his peace would find themselves dragged down to the lowest hells, punished with the harshest retribution imaginable.

He made his stance unmistakably clear: Do you want me to lead humanity? This is the world I offer. Follow the rules—or face the consequences.

This has to be enough for the groundwork. Adyr silently reflected—he had injected just enough fear to bend the entire society toward the shape he desired. Yet, he knew that a whole community couldn’t be controlled by fear alone. It was time to reveal the light hidden within the darkness.

"Long live hell for the wicked." His voice echoed across the plaza, and in the souls of all watching the screen, the oppressive shadow shifted, softening into something more forgiving, almost merciful.

He began to withdraw his Malice, the dark aura slowly dissipating from around him. Then, combining his newly acquired Grace with his Presence, he began to radiate a calming light.

Suddenly, an invisible, soothing atmosphere enveloped Adyr. A single beam of light descended from the sky, striking his silhouette and illuminating his vast white wings, transforming his entire being into something divine.

Millions felt the impact of this sudden shift—anxiety and fear melting away. The figure who moments ago resembled a harbinger of death now appeared as a messenger of hope descending from heaven, touching every eye with a message of salvation.

"There are many I hate and consider enemies, but also those I acknowledge and respect—those who, despite all this darkness, carry the light." His voice carried softly as a divine, translucent light spread gently over the crowd in the plaza and reached those watching from screens.

The moment of judgment had passed. Now came the reward for those who had survived it.

The crowd seemed to stir to life, as if awakened by this new aura. Confusion rippled through them as all their dark emotions were suddenly wiped away.

Whether carrying mutant genes or not, everyone felt their old and new wounds begin to heal. The weight of years lifted from their bodies like a phoenix rising from ashes. Soft gasps rippled through the crowd.

As they questioned what this soothing, renewing aura meant, the massive screen shifted again. This time, instead of prisoners dying in agony or begging for mercy, the live feed showed a hospital room—an emotional, joyful moment shared between a patient hooked to machines and their family.

Bold red text flashed in a corner:

LIVE | Shelter City 1 – Central Hospital / Intensive Care Unit

Scrolling text below explained that the patient had been in a coma for a long time due to a severe fever. Just minutes after Adyr’s Grace reached them, their vital signs quickly improved. Now awake, the patient was seen celebrating with their family, grateful for the miraculous recovery.

Even Adyr’s gaze flickered toward the live footage, a rare flicker of disbelief crossing his calm face. What the fuck?Is this... really the power of Grace?

He watched in stunned silence as the screen revealed another patient, lost in a coma for so long. Slowly, their eyes opened, breaths steadied, and a fragile spark of life returned—an undeniable testament to miracle and renewal unfolding right before his eyes.

For a brief moment, surprise threatened to betray him. But Adyr swiftly concealed it, turning back to the crowd and the countless cameras trained on him.

He deepened the intensity of his Grace and Presence, the faint, translucent energy surrounding him growing denser, coalescing into a radiant, divine light that seemed almost tangible.

"This is the dawn of a new era," he declared, his eyes sweeping over the sea of faces, filled not with judgment but with a rare softness—an unspoken promise of mercy. His voice, calm and smooth as a lullaby, washed over the plaza, soothing restless hearts and anxious minds alike.

"But I am not the savior you dream of."

A pause, as his gaze settled on each person, connecting with their hidden fears and hopes.

"I am the one you deserve."

With that final declaration, he unfurled his immaculate white wings in one fluid motion. The plaza was swept by powerful gusts, the air trembling as his feathers caught the light.

Bathed in a solitary shaft of sunlight breaking through the heavy, dark clouds above, his silhouette rose, soaring higher and higher until he vanished into the heavens, like a deity who had completed his earthly mission, ascending to reclaim his celestial throne.

The crowd remained frozen, breath caught in their throats, eyes locked on the empty sky where he had been moments before—forever changed by the presence of the man who commanded both fear and hope in equal measure.

And as if thousands of minds had received the same silent command all at once, the crowd bowed simultaneously—kneeling in unison like a wave of reverence washing over the plaza—eyes fixed on the single beam of sunlight piercing the heavy clouds, ascending like an elevator into the heavens.

Only the City Manager remained seated in his wheelchair, his gaze unwavering toward the sky. Wrinkles etched deep lines across his aged face, framed by a long, flowing white beard that lent him an air of quiet wisdom. His eyes held both exhaustion and a spark of something unspoken.

"We expected him to reshape society," he murmured to himself, his voice trembling with disbelief, "but maybe... he has forged an entirely new religion?"