There's a Chicken Cult and I'm Their Messiah

I woke up to chanting.
Not quiet, distant chanting. Loud, enthusiastic, right-outside-my-window chanting that sounded like someone had given a bunch of pigeons a religion and taught them to use megaphones.
"CLUCK CLUCK, PRAISE THE PECK!""NUGGET IS THE WAY, THE TRUTH, THE BEAK!""BLESSED BE THE CHICKEN, HALLOWED BE THY WINGS!"
I stumbled to the window and looked down.
The entire street was filled with people wearing chicken costumes. Full-body chicken suits, feather cloaks, beaked masks, and in one disturbing case, someone had crafted actual chicken wings that flapped when they moved their arms.
At the center of this feathered congregation stood ChickenProphet_LV7, holding his staff high, leading the chant.
"Oh no," I whispered.
"Oh YES!" ChickenProphet spotted me at the window. "BEHOLD! THE MASTER AWAKENS! PRAISE BE!"
The crowd went wild, clucking and cheering.
Haruka appeared beside me, coffee in hand, completely unfazed. "Your cult is here."
"They're not MY cult!"
"You tamed their god. You're stuck with them." She took a sip. "Also, they've been here since dawn. Marcus tried to disperse them. They wouldn't leave. Something about 'sacred ground where the Chosen One sleeps.'"
"I've been asleep for six hours!"
"They've been chanting for six hours."
PatchNotes appeared:
> "Chicken Cult Activity Detected: HIGH"> "Cult Size: Approximately 30 members"> "Dedication Level: Concerning"> "Advice: Do not engage. This will only encourage them."
I looked at Nugget, who was perched on his usual spot, preening his feathers with zero awareness that he'd become a religious icon.
"This is your fault," I told him.
He clucked once. Dismissively.
---
Downstairs, the guild was already dealing with the situation. Or trying to.
Gary was at the door, blocking entry to a group of cultists. "Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you CAN'T come in. This is a private guild hall!"
"We bring OFFERINGS!" one cultist shouted, holding up what appeared to be a hand-carved wooden chicken. "For the Sacred Nugget!"
"That's very nice, but—"
"We also brought EGGS!" another added, producing a basket. "Blessed eggs! Laid by regular chickens! In honor of the IRREGULAR chicken!"
"Please stop calling him irregular—"
"WE BROUGHT SEEDS!" a third cultist screamed. "SEEDS FOR PECKING!"
Gary looked back at me desperately. "Little help?"
I sighed and approached the door. The moment the cultists saw me, they dropped to their knees.
"MASTER OF THE SACRED FOWL!""TAMER OF THE UNKILLABLE!""HUSBAND OF SLIME!"
"That last one's not related," I muttered.
ChickenProphet pushed through the crowd, his eyes shining with fervor. "Great Kazuki! We have come seeking guidance! Wisdom! A SIGN from the Sacred Nugget!"
"He's a chicken. He doesn't give signs. He pecks things."
"YES! THE SACRED PECKING! We have documented seventeen distinct pecking patterns! Each one holds MEANING!"
Amy appeared beside me, notebook out. "Seventeen patterns? Can I see your research?"
"NO!" I grabbed her arm. "Don't encourage them!"
"But this is fascinating! They've created an entire theology based on observation of NPC behavior patterns!" She turned to ChickenProphet. "Have you noticed any correlation between pecking frequency and game events?"
His eyes lit up. "YES! Before the great server lag of last Tuesday, Nugget pecked seven times! SEVEN! The sacred number!"
"Seven is just a number," I protested.
"It's the number of CREATION! The number of DAYS! The number of—"
"It's the number of times he saw something shiny!" I interrupted. "He's not prophetic! He's easily distracted!"
The cultists gasped like I'd committed blasphemy.
"The Master tests our faith," ChickenProphet said solemnly. "By denying the truth, he makes us BELIEVE harder!"
"That's not how logic works!"
"Faith transcends LOGIC!"
"Please stop yelling theology at me before breakfast!"
---
Marcus finally intervened, gently herding the cultists back. "Okay, everyone. The guild appreciates your devotion, but they need space. Come back during designated visiting hours."
"When are visiting hours?" a cultist asked.
"Never. Visiting hours are never."
"We'll wait," ChickenProphet declared. "We'll camp outside until we receive a sign!"
"Please don't camp outside."
"SACRED CAMPING HAS BEGUN!"
They all sat down. Right there. In the street.
Marcus looked at me. "This is your problem now."
"How is this MY problem?!"
"You tamed the chicken. You deal with the consequences." He walked away, muttering something about "never signing up for this."
---
Inside, the guild gathered for an emergency meeting.
"We have a cult," I announced.
"We noticed," Sarah said dryly. "They're blocking traffic. The Naked Guild filed a noise complaint. The NAKED GUILD. The people who usually ARE the noise complaint."
"What do they want?" BarrelBob asked.
"Guidance. Signs. Religious validation. The usual cult stuff."
"Can we use them?" Amy asked thoughtfully.
Everyone turned to her.
"What?" she said. "I'm being practical. They're devoted, organized, and apparently very good at documentation. That's thirty potential allies."
"They think Nugget is a god," Haruka pointed out.
"Is he not?" Gloopina asked innocently.
"NO!"
"But he's immortal, unkillable, and killed twelve people before being tamed. That's pretty god-like."
"That's just being overpowered!"
PatchNotes appeared:
> "Technical Assessment: Nugget qualifies as 'divine entity' under certain religious frameworks"> "Evidence: Immortality, resurrection mechanics (if killed, respawns), power beyond normal entities"> "Conclusion: The cult has a point"
"DON'T YOU START!"
Nugget, oblivious to the theological debate about his nature, pecked at a piece of bread. The bread immediately turned into a small bird and flew away.
We all stared.
"Did that just..." Gary began.
"The bread turned into a bird," Amy confirmed, scribbling frantically. "Nugget's pecking has TRANSMUTATION properties?!"
"Or it's a bug," I said desperately.
"Or it's a MIRACLE," ChickenProphet's voice carried through the window. "WE SAW THE BREAD BECOME BIRD! PRAISE THE TRANSFORMATION!"
"They're watching through the windows?!" Haruka yelled.
"ALWAYS WATCHING!" the cult chanted. "THE FAITHFUL NEVER SLEEP!"
"This is a nightmare," I groaned.
---
We needed to deal with the cult situation before it got worse. The problem was, I had no idea how to disband a religious movement based on my murder chicken.
"We could scare them away," Gary suggested. "Make Nugget do something un-godlike."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Fail? Act weak? Be mortal?"
We all looked at Nugget. He was currently balancing on one leg while cleaning his feathers, managing to look majestic and ridiculous simultaneously.
"He doesn't DO weak," Sarah said.
"What if I just... tell them to leave?" I offered.
"You're their prophet's prophet," Amy said. "Anything you say will be interpreted as religious doctrine."
"Then I'll tell them Nugget wants them to leave!"
"That's USING religious authority, which legitimizes their beliefs."
"This is impossible!"
WhisperWillow, who'd been quiet until now, spoke up softly. "What if... we gave them something to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"They want purpose. Direction. What if we gave them a quest? Something important that requires them to go... elsewhere?"
I looked at her. "That's actually brilliant."
"It's manipulative," Haruka said.
"It's PRACTICAL," Amy corrected.
I made a decision. "Okay. Let's do it."
---
I stepped outside to address the cult. The moment I appeared, they fell silent, waiting with reverent attention.
"Followers of Nugget," I began, feeling ridiculous. "I have received... a message."
"A MESSAGE!" ChickenProphet gasped. "From the Sacred One?!"
"Uh, yes. Nugget has... spoken to me. Spiritually. In chicken language."
Haruka, watching from the doorway, facepalmed so hard I heard it.
"And what did the Sacred One say?" ChickenProphet asked, trembling with anticipation.
"He said..." I improvised wildly, "that true followers must prove their devotion through ACTION, not just worship."
"ACTION! YES! We are ready!"
"There is a place," I continued, remembering a location Marcus mentioned, "far to the east. The Roost of Forgotten Fowl. It's an ancient temple dedicated to chickens from a previous game version. Nugget wants you to go there, restore it, and establish a proper place of worship."
The cult murmured excitedly.
"But," I added quickly, "the journey is dangerous. It will take at least a week. Maybe two. You'll face monsters, glitches, and trials. Only the truly faithful can succeed."
"WE ACCEPT!" ChickenProphet declared. "We shall journey to the Sacred Roost! We shall restore the temple! And we shall return ENLIGHTENED!"
"Great! So you'll leave? Now?"
"IMMEDIATELY! Come, faithful! We have a PILGRIMAGE!"
The entire cult stood, gathered their chicken-themed belongings, and began marching east, chanting about their sacred quest.
Within ten minutes, they were gone.
I slumped against the doorframe. "Is it wrong that I just sent a religious cult on a fake quest?"
"The temple is real," Amy said, checking her notes. "It's an abandoned beta zone. They'll probably find actual chicken-related content there."
"So I accidentally sent them on a REAL pilgrimage?"
"Apparently."
"Why is everything I do accidentally correct?!"
PatchNotes appeared:
> "Achievement Unlocked: 'Religious Leader (Unintentional)'"> "You have successfully directed a cult's activities"> "This will have consequences"> "Probably good ones? Maybe? We'll see."
---
With the cult temporarily handled, we focused on guild business. The public broadcasting had begun—an NPC from the Town Crier Guild followed us around with a magical recording device (a floating crystal that occasionally sneezed).
Our first "episode" was a simple dungeon run: The Cavern of Mild Concern (Level 5-8 zone).
The broadcast NPC, named **NewsGoblin_Tom**, floated alongside us. "And we're here with Debugged Destinies, Respawn City's newest guild! Let's see how they handle this beginner dungeon!"
"Beginner?" Gary asked nervously.
"It's level five," Sarah assured him. "We'll be fine."
We were not fine.
The first room contained slimes. Normal, basic slimes. We'd fought hundreds.
Except these slimes recognized Gloopina.
"PRINCESS!" they shouted in unison. "The King's daughter! She has MARRIED a human! SCANDAL!"
"Oh no," Gloopina squeaked.
"SCANDALOUS!" the slimes chanted, bouncing aggressively. "The Royal Family must hear of this DISGRACE!"
"They already know!" I yelled. "We had trials! We got approval!"
"TRIALS MEAN NOTHING! LOVE IS FORBIDDEN!"
"I LITERALLY MARRIED HER WITH PERMISSION!"
"FORBIDDEN LOVE IS THE MOST ROMANTIC!"
The slimes attacked, but not to kill—they were trying to SEPARATE me from Gloopina, apparently intent on protecting her from my "corrupting influence."
Combat became a farce. I was running in circles, Gloopina was trying to explain constitutional slime marriage law, and the broadcast crystal was capturing every ridiculous moment.
"This is GOLD!" NewsGoblin_Tom laughed. "The viewers are going to LOVE this!"
"WE'RE BEING ATTACKED BY IN-LAWS!" I screamed.
"DRAMATIC TENSION!"
Eventually, Sarah just froze all the slimes with an ice spell. Crisis averted. Dignity destroyed.
We proceeded deeper into the dungeon, fighting through enemies that kept recognizing party members:
- Mushrooms that remembered Haruka from the Screaming Mushroom quest ("YOU HARVESTED MY COUSIN!")- A barrel that tried to recruit BarrelBob ("JOIN US, BROTHER!")- Cookies that had heard about our diplomatic solution ("WE SEEK ASYLUM!")
By the time we reached the boss—a moderately threatening Gelatinous Cube—we were exhausted, arguing, and somehow had recruited three more cookies.
The boss fight lasted twelve seconds. Nugget pecked it once. It exploded.
"ANTICLIMACTIC!" NewsGoblin_Tom announced. "But ENTERTAINING! This concludes our first episode of 'Debugged Destinies: The Guild That Shouldn't Exist!'"
"That's our title?" Haruka asked flatly.
"The network named it! It tested well with focus groups!"
"What focus groups?!"
"The Naked Guild! They're very supportive!"
---
That evening, we discovered the broadcast's impact.
Players kept approaching us on the street:
"Hey! You're from that show!""I loved the slime in-laws bit!""Can I get Nugget's autograph?""Do the cookies take commissions?"
We'd become minor celebrities. Which meant more attention. More opportunities.
And more danger.
A messenger arrived—a player working for the information network. "You've been challenged."
"Challenged?" I asked.
"The Iron Vanguard. They're the top guild in the city. They saw your broadcast and want a competition. Guild versus guild. Combat tournament. Winner gets five hundred gold and city-wide recognition."
Five hundred gold. That was our legendary armor money. Our supply budget for months.
"When?" Sarah asked.
"Three days. The arena. Public event."
Three days. The same day my armor would be ready.
"We accept," I said.
The messenger nodded and left.
The guild looked at me.
"Five hundred gold," I said. "We NEED this."
"We're going to get destroyed," Gary said. "Iron Vanguard is all level 15-20 players. Organized. Trained. We're level 1-9 with cookies as members."
"We have something they don't," Amy said.
"What?"
"We're unpredictable. They're watching our broadcast, sure. But we can surprise them. Use strategies they won't expect."
"Like what?"
She smiled. "Like everything Kazuki does naturally. Chaos."
"Are you saying my incompetence is a strategy?"
"I'm saying your ACCIDENTAL SUCCESS is our advantage."
PatchNotes appeared:
> "Guild Challenge Accepted: Iron Vanguard Tournament"> "Odds of Victory: 8%"> "Odds with 'Kazuki Chaos Factor': 23%"> "Odds of entertaining failure: 100%"
"Twenty-three percent," I said. "I've won with worse odds."
"When?" Haruka asked.
"Never. But there's a first time for everything!"
---
That night, as I reviewed our strategy (or lack thereof), a notification appeared:
> **URGENT MESSAGE**> From: ChickenProphet_LV7> > "Master, we have reached the Roost. It's real. It's GLORIOUS. But there's something here. Something wrong. The chickens... they're corrupted. Hostile. We need help. Please."
I showed it to the guild.
"It's a trap," Sarah said immediately.
"Or it's real," Amy countered. "That zone hasn't been accessed in months. If there's corrupted content there..."
"It's also our cult," I said. "We sent them there. If something happens to them..."
"It's on us," Gary finished.
We looked at each other.
"We can't fight in a tournament AND rescue a cult," Haruka said.
"We split up," I decided. "Combat team stays for the tournament. Rescue team goes to the Roost."
"Who goes where?" BarrelBob asked.
I thought for a moment. "Haruka, Sarah, Gary—you're tournament team. You're our strongest fighters. Amy, me, BarrelBob, WhisperWillow—we're rescue team. We investigate the Roost, extract the cult if needed, and return before the tournament."
"That's cutting it close," Sarah warned.
"Everything we do cuts it close. That's our brand now."
PatchNotes appeared:
> "Guild Split Decision Logged"> "Tournament Team: Slight chance of victory"> "Rescue Team: High chance of chaos"> "Recommendation: Don't die (applies to both teams)"
We had three days. Three days to rescue a cult, prepare for a tournament, collect legendary armor, and somehow not die repeatedly.
"Why is our life like this?" I asked the ceiling.
"Because you clicked things," everyone replied in unison.
Fair point.
---
> **End of Chapter 8**