Requirements

Sasaki and his group descend the steep stairs to the dark, cold basement below. At the entryway, they saw the corridors lined with thick, 3-foot-tall stones. A few flickering candles dotted the walls, providing the only light. The thugs guided them through the narrow hallways, which eventually opened into a small room.

The room is dim, but apparently not dim enough for the thugs.
They move through the darkness as if they've done it many times before, and open large metal cages, identifiable only by their bright reflection from the hallway light.

They quickly throw each person into separate cells and shut them with a clang. The floor was stone cold, and the bars gave just enough room to stand. Before Sasaki’s eyes could adjust to the dark, the familiar sound of flint resonated through the room, and dozens of candles were lit.

The cells were lined up against the wall, containing the four of them minus Nozomu, who Sasaki noticed was still bleeding in the thugs’ grasp.
A table stands against the other side, stacked with books, pages, and splattered ink. Strange symbols are drawn on them, which are illegible in the faded gleam.

In the center of the room, the color begins to change. Streaks of long-forgotten filth reach towards the center of the room. It grows darker and denser until the reddish-brown stains condense together into pure black. 

The shuffle of feet sounds, and the room soon crowds with dark-robed people. They’re equipped with a notebook in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. Immediately, they kneel and draw across the floor in what seems like gibberish sigils and spirals, but as it comes to completion, Sasaki realizes what it is.

It was a ritual circle.

Since the day Sasaki witnessed his pastor’s Miracle, he’d picked up any readings on their proceedings, hoping the knowledge would bring him to become even closer to his gods and perhaps allow him to be chosen. But now he’s here witnessing the unsanctioned use of the holy symbols he’s come to know so well.

“Alright!” An uncharacteristically cheerful voice rings out. “Who’s ready to try this one out?”

Those who painted the circle suddenly stand upright and open their notebooks to blank pages, ready to take notes. Barely able to crane his head, Sasaki sees, through the bars of his cell, the outline of a man dressed as a religious figure of an unknown denomination. His face was sunken and pale, but it was his unnerving, toothy grin that sent chills down Sasaki’s spine.

The pale man motions his hands towards the center of the ritual circle.

“If you could put him here,” He commanded the thugs.

The thugs pick Nozomu up by his armpits and drag him into the center of the circle. Nozomu’s injuries seemed worse than before. He barely moved as they sat him on his knees on the ground.

The pale man’s expression immediately turned sour.

“What did you do to this one?” he fumed.

“I-”

“Never mind, I don’t care.”
The man waves his hand at them as if shooing away a pest.
“As long as he’s still alive.”

Sasaki notices the thug’s leader pumping his fist.

The pale man steps toward Nozumu, coming into clearer light for all to see.

“Timers ready?” he beams.

Sasaki sees the dark-robed people preparing hourglasses. The pale man then reaches towards his hip. A light reflects into Sasaki’s eye as the sound of metal hums against a sheath. A long sword is pulled from the man’s hip and held high above Nozomu's head.

“Wait! No! Don’t!” Sasaki calls out.

“What is he doing?” another one shrieks.
Everyone in their cages began clambering about, screaming protests.

“Stop!”

“Nozomu, move!”

“Let me out of this damned thing!”

Sasaki begged; he screamed; he pleaded alongside everyone else. But just as the blade came down, Sasaki realized something that chilled him to his core. He didn’t think to pray.

SHING

The sword impales Nozomu through his throat, and he immediately begins gasping for air, choking pitifully on the blood entering from his wound. The man leans down beside his face, listening to his croaks and struggles, waiting for something.

Nozomu raises his hands toward the blade, but his strength was already far gone before this. They fall limply to his side as his eyes flicker in and out of vision. Then, staring at something far beyond anyone could see. The last breath of Nozomu whistles out of his mouth and wound until he finally falls silent. 

Before the silence stayed any longer, the pastor yells out:
“Start!”

The robed people flip their hourglasses at once and slam them on the table, creating a starting shot for the cacophony of despair-ridden wails coming from the cells.

Sasaki fell to his knees, watching someone he’d known since he was young spill copious amounts of blood along the floor. Time seemed to stand still, but its progress made itself known with the crinkle of sand continuously flowing in their hourglasses. Interrupting their despair, the killer spoke,

“5 minutes in 3… 2… 1… Now!” The surrounding followers slam their hands down, bringing light to the circle. Sasaki watches in disbelief as the ritual circle activates, spiraling light toward the corpse. The light soon encompasses Nozomu’s body, seemingly consuming him.
And like he’s seen before, the light shatters into particles, leaving only a clean sword behind. The pale man watches excitedly as the particles begin to coalesce. With a poof, seven blue flames appear in the air.

“Seven!” Someone exclaims. The crowd cheers as they vigorously write in their notebooks. Just as they finish writing, the flames flicker and burn out.

“Marvelous!” the pale man cheers. “A five-minute cadaver gives us 70%! This will be the breakthrough of the century!”

The group of dark-clad people babbles amongst themselves gleefully.

“What…” A voice comes from the adjacent cell. “What… THE HELL?!”

The voice came from Robbi, an older, reserved tavern owner. He’d been silent most of the time during their travels, but it seems that the atrocities have broken him.

“You sons of bitches! How fucking dare you! What did you do to him?!”
Robbi, using all his strength, shakes the cell bars, clanking and clattering on their weak hinges.

“I… I don’t understand.” Sasaki’s shaky voice spills out. “He was dead. Why did the ritual activate?”

Sasaki was very familiar with the requirements for rituals. A soul is gifted to a god, and in return, their miraculous power is gifted to the people. Nozomu’s soul was far gone, and yet, it activated.

“You damned cultist!” Robbi’s voice raged.

Cultist. The followers of the accursed gods, known for bringing plague and famine to the lands. The gods who created the vicious man-eating creatures and all things poisonous.

​“Cultist…” the pale man chuckled. “Quite a funny word for us, I’d say. Researchers I'd like to call us.” He peers into Robbi’s cell.

“What, you think that those ‘miracles’ you see just come out of thin air? Hah! Do you have any idea how many spells I’ve devised for those half-witted saints? The land flourishes thanks to MY inventions!” He laughs.

“And now, it’ll be even greater than before! When they find out that they’ll no longer need live sacrifices for their rituals, they’ll be getting on their hands and knees, robbing graves for spoiling flesh and broken skeletons. A fine state for those wanna-be apostles.” He leans in to meet Ronni’s eyes.

“Little tidbit for you. There’s no such thing as cultists. That’s just what the church likes to call someone who’s gotten their hands on their precious miracle-making materials. Only they have the right to take a life because ‘god would want that’. 

"Well, I’m excited to say you’ll be the last live sacrifices ever needed! Just a few more tests, and I’ll be able to sell this knowledge for enough money to last me two lifetimes!” The pale man’s eyes were staring widely off into the future with that unnerving, toothy grin. After having his moment, he turned back towards his robed companions.

“Now, I believe we have some fine-tuning to go through.” They collectively exited the room, blowing out the candles on their way, leaving the remaining four to sit alone in complete darkness.

The only sounds left were the soft weepings of his fellow townsmates.