It was a bizarre, heavily deformed spectacle that would never be tolerated within a legitimate, mainstream religion, yet not a single soul in the entire auditorium found the display unusual.
Every single body in the room had already been entirely hollowed out and possessed, instantly clasping their hands together to chant hymns of absolute praise in accordance with the priest’s decree.
A stream of incomprehensible, esoteric prayers spilled rapidly from the clergyman’s mouth.
Seo Yuan stood entirely motionless, staring blankly at the display of intense, feverish devotion.
Though he had appeared thoroughly panicked just moments prior, curiosity seemed to have overtaken his anxiety; his large eyes blinked rapidly as he scanned the crowd, though he took care to keep his head steady.
Standing tall at the apex of the altar with a set of aesthetics that achieved a perfect, flawless symmetry, he projected an illusion so ethereal it was as if a literal angel had split the heavens to descend upon the earth.
Even though he had received zero formal coaching on religious protocol, Seo Yuan naturally exuded an aura that was every bit as regal and absolute as a sovereign pope.
His elegant spine remained perfectly rigid, his posture was immaculate, and a subtle, dignified smile played faintly across his lips—never once letting a shred of poise slip.
‘This is practically his true calling…….’
Tracing his jawline with his fingers, Yoon Seoho kept his eyes tenaciously locked onto Seo Yuan.
The naive, easily manipulated youth who had been stumbling over his own feet before stepping into the worship hall was nowhere to be found.
Of course, Yoon Seoho could still easily pick up on the subtle glint of child-like wonder flashing deep within Seo Yuan’s pupils, but that was an explicit insight reserved solely for him because he understood the boy’s baseline.
To the eyes of any normal spectator, the current Seo Yuan was maintaining a completely unreadable, flawless poker face.
‘You’re surprisingly adept at this, our Yuan.’
A deeply satisfied smirk spread across Yoon Seoho’s features, but the moment his gaze drifted down to survey the parasites staring up at the altar with dazed, slack-jawed expressions, his brows snapped together into a harsh scowl.
Exactly as expected of low-grade insects, their behavior was entirely offensive to his senses.
Where the fuck did they get the audacity to stare directly at Seo Yuan with those disgusting, unholy eyes?
A violent impulse to reach down and gouge their eyeballs out of their skulls flared instantly within his chest.
Back when he had personally operated as the face of the cult, not a single one of these brainless zealots had ever dared to look him straight in the eye with such a blatant lack of manners.
He suppose it was an inevitable side effect triggered by the youth’s impossibly beautiful appearance.
As living proof, even the senior devotees who had been with the order for a long time were executing tiny, covert glances to steal a look at Seo Yuan whenever they thought no one was watching.
It appeared that possessing a level of beauty that defied reality could act as a double-edged sword in environments like this.
Still, it proved that even these bottom-feeders weren’t entirely blind.
Forcing down the savage, murderous rage clawing at his throat, Yoon Seoho maintained his position and watched the progression of the service unfold in cold silence.
“We shall now proceed as our supreme Cult Leader bestows his holy blessing upon us. Initiates at the front, step forward in accordance with the established order.”
The priest, having concluded his recitation, cast a sharp node toward the newly arrived initiates.
At the signal, the lesser clergymen flanking the altar stepped forward to guide them to the front.
The converts advanced with hesitant, stumbling steps, visibly struggling to acclimate to the heavy, suffocating atmosphere of the cathedral.
In the past, whenever a fresh batch of initiates entered these walls, Yoon Seoho had systematically utilized the guise of a holy blessing to anchor a profound hypnotic seal into their minds.
The fact that every single devotee in this sprawling order was completely trapped under his mental paralysis was a reality engineered explicitly by his design.
But what about now?
Would his calculated manipulation even be necessary this time?
Yoon Seoho stared coldly at the parasites kneeling in a orderly line before the stage.
Today marked the absolute debut of Seo Yuan’s miraculous capabilities.
There was not a single ordinary civilian among those who sought entry into Exalted.
Every devotee in the crowd was an Esper—ranging from the absolute bottom-tier F-ranks straight up to elite A-ranks.
Naturally, the lower-grade organisms heavily outnumbered the high-tier assets.
Conventionally, once an Esper achieved an A-rank classification, the government extended a baseline of financial and medical subsidies to keep their corruption metrics under a semblance of control.
‘As if that pathetic, useless posturing makes a damn bit of difference.’
Letting out a mocking, cynical snort in the privacy of his mind, Yoon Seoho casually draped his arm over the shoulder of the visibly stiffening youth, his voice a velvet whisper against his ear.
“All you need to do is bestow your blessing upon them one by one. It isn’t difficult at all, Yuan. Simply rest your hand upon their head or shoulder and let your intent flow exactly as you desire.”
“Even if you tell me to do as I desire…….”
Seo Yuan shot a covert, thoroughly bewildered glance back at Yoon Seoho, clearly failing to grasp the true meaning behind the instructions.
Yoon Seoho merely curled the corners of his mouth into a reassuring smirk, shifting his posture to project absolute confidence.
“Trust in your own power, Yuan.”
It was a completely hollow piece of rhetoric stripped of any substance, yet it sounded remarkably profound and persuasive when leaving his lips.
It was a textbook execution befitting a seasoned cult leader.
“……Alright, I’ll try.”
Nodding his head with an expression still thick with lingering doubt, Seo Yuan stepped into the absolute center of the altar in accordance with the priest’s call.
Before him, the initiates waited in a breathless, static line.
Advancing toward the very first devotee in the queue, Seo Yuan stood silently, gazing down at the man.
The convert’s complexion was characteristically wretched—a universal trait shared by every broken soul desperate enough to seek entry into Exalted.
Even by the metrics of an Esper, his physical frame was extraordinarily frail, heavily ravaged by an advanced stage of cellular decay.
He wheezed frantically for oxygen, his head wobbling unsteadily as if his neck could no longer support its own weight.
Not a single soul in the cathedral was ignorant of the cause; this was the brutal, explicit price of wielding supernatural anomalies without proper stabilization.
Seo Yuan slowly tilted his upper body forward.
The movement caused the fabric of his robes to shift, laying the elegant, pristine line of his throat completely bare to the crowd.
Extending his slender arm, he hesitated for a fraction of a second before letting his fingertips lightly brush against the man’s sweat-sheened forehead.
And in that exact moment.
“GAHK!”
