Only its smile, however, possessed a horrifying contagiosity, with the believers being the first to be engulfed.
Within the entire city, the believers who had fallen into slumber now wore smiles on their faces, yet their muscles and nerves stiffened, as if to eternally lock in that expression, a dreadful mask thoroughly contaminating their minds.
At this moment, within Bunker City, in a secluded and desolate church, or perhaps an ascetic monastery, the doors slowly opened. Hunched in figure, a body completely shrouded in burlap robes and hood, an ascetic monk stepped out with slow, resolute steps.
Wherever he went, thorns would sprout from nothingness, piercing his feet, wrapping around his body. It seemed as if invisible whips were lashing through the air, tearing his robes, bursting his flesh, and a glow, somewhat different from Holy Light, shot up into the skies, catching the attention of both the official Transcendents and the Church priests.
