Father Basil went to the security office, but Nicole was not there; she had gone out with the Blood Army to clear the hunting areas.
Instead, he headed toward the church and called a meeting with his closest and most trusted followers.
More than twenty people had gathered in the dimly lit basement, waiting in silence. Every person present was a devout believer, willing to do anything for the Lord. They were his greatest weapon—not on the battlefield, but in faith... spreading the Lord's gospel and converting others to his cause.
When Father Basil entered, everyone stood.
"Sit down," he said, taking his seat at the head of the table. "We have more important matters to discuss."
Once they settled, he spoke in a heavy voice. "How many people have accepted the Lord as the Death Angel?"
A man raised his hand. "All of the former slaves are believers. We've gained more than two hundred new followers. As for the rest, we're still working on them. It would have been easier if we hadn't enforced the rule requiring them to cut part of their ears as proof of devotion."
Basil's expression hardened.
"That rule stays," he said firmly. "They must demonstrate their dedication. If they claim to accept the Lord as the Death Angel, they must prove it. If they cannot sacrifice a small part of their ear, how can we trust them to give their lives for him? I will not debate this. Now...have you found any dissatisfaction toward the Lord?"
A woman spoke softly. "Everyone is content. They respect his rule. We've all seen how hard he works for the community. Not only is he unmatched on the battlefield, but he is fiercely intelligent in all he does. Only the blind would refuse to believe in him."
Father Basil nodded.
"If there is any distrust... any at all... you must inform me immediately. We cannot allow such poison to spread. Before anyone can shed his blood, they must go through us."
The group nodded in unison.
"Our greatest challenge now is growth," Basil continued. "More people are joining us. We must work even harder to turn them into true believers. Fortunately, the Lord has proven time and again that he is no ordinary man. He is heaven-sent to save us."
His voice lowered.
"Focus on the children and the teenagers. They are the future. They will become the Lord's strength. Do you understand?"
"We understand!" they replied together.
The meeting continued for an hour as they discussed compiling a sacred book, one that would document the Lord's extraordinary deeds and solidify faith among the people. Every detail would be recorded with care, ensuring that all placed their belief, and their fate in him.
When the others finally left, only one man remained seated at the table.
"Brother… are you sure you know what you're doing?" he asked quietly. "You're creating a cult...and handing absolute power to a fifteen-year-old boy."
The man before him was his own brother. He looked at Basil with open concern.
Basil exhaled slowly.
"When I first had that dream, even I didn't believe it," he admitted. "I told the people because they needed hope… or perhaps because I did. I wanted to believe God still existed. But after everything we endured...after watching children die, families perish, loved ones torn apart...we were plunged into slavery. Forced to eat things I never imagined."
His voice grew heavier.
"In those moments, my faith in God was gone."
He paused.
"Then I saw that boy."
"When he crossed into enemy territory alone to search for the girl he loved, I thought he was either suicidal or insane. But later… I watched him slaughter hundreds of men and women by himself, burning everything down...including the chains of our slavery. As I watched, I felt as though I were witnessing the reincarnation of the devil. I did not believe he was human."
His brother's expression stiffened.
"I was terrified," Basil continued. "But when he sat atop piles of corpses, I did not see the devil. I saw a boy crying."
He looked down at his hands.
"I saw a human being willing to burn the world to save the one he loved."
Silence filled the basement.
"In that moment, I understood. If he was willing to do so much for someone he loved, then he was worthy of being followed. He may not be sent by heaven, but he is the only one strong enough to carve a future out of this hell."
Basil lifted his gaze.
"And if the people need a god to follow him...then I will give them one."
He took a slow sip of water.
"But do you know the funny thing, Larry? Lately… I've started believing my own dream."
Larry stared at him in disbelief. "You've started believing your own lie? Brother, I never thought you were that kind of person."
Basil gave a dry chuckle. "I'm too old for fantasies. The reason I think God gave me that dream of the Angel is because of the boy. Tell me this...have you ever met a fifteen-year-old who could kill more than four hundred people in a single day?"
Larry said nothing.
"Have you ever seen a fifteen-year-old recover from multiple gunshot wounds in three days? A boy with the strength of several grown men?"
Still, Larry had no answer.
"Have you ever seen anyone more intelligent than him...someone who memorized and understood hundreds of books in under four months? Look at this entire community...everything we have was designed and built by him. Tell me, do you truly believe he is just human?"
Basil stepped closer and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"One day, I asked the Lord, 'Do you believe in God?' Do you know what he told me?"
Larry swallowed. "What did he say?"
Basil smiled faintly.
"He said, 'It's hard not to believe...when I've seen it with my own eyes.'"
Larry's eyes widened at the revelation.
"That was his answer," Basil said quietly. "In that moment, I believed him too. And you should as well, brother."
Larry nodded, but his thoughts churned in silence.
Moments later, Basil stepped outside. Word had spread, the Lord was returning.
Hundreds of people rushed toward the camp's entrance gate, eager to witness his arrival. Excitement rippled through the crowd as they waited, cheering and calling his name.
Watching their devotion, Father Basil smiled.