Hieronymus went out saying he had something to do.
I don’t know if it’s to choose people for me to make into harvesters, or to find people to supply me with warmth.
So I shifted my attention to Joanna Smith.
From the worldview, I thought there would be European-style bread, but looking at the cooking Joanna is doing in the kitchen, the feeling is quite different?
She takes a lump of ground grain mixed with water and kneads it, brings it from one side of the kitchen, and bakes it on fire. It’s food like naan eaten in India. Separately from that, she takes out preserved meat, cuts it and fries it, or brings dried vegetables and boils them with sauce.
It looks like a dish that would have an enormous calorie count. And a little fruit with that.
Judging by the shape, it seems to be quite fresh fruit. There must be a place where it can be obtained nearby, and a place that supplies it.
Unfortunately, Joanna doesn’t know how this is done.
It’s a shame, if I could know about the food situation, I could consider it when increasing harvesters later.
Food, space, and happiness adjustment. These are elements that often appear in simulation games. Games are ideal because they remove human elements like embezzlement, misappropriation, or being lazy with work in between those. But in reality, it’s not that different.
To harvest more warmth, I think it would be good to increase harvesters and use them to obtain more warmth.
Hmm.
Up to here.
If I’m too hasty, even things that could be done won’t be done.
When I was human, I wasn’t particularly smart. Therefore, there’s no way the current me can do anything.
A plan occurs to me that if many of those I’ve contaminated, or hosts, or followers gather, we could raise intelligence by grid computing their brains…
I would if I could, but even using the brains of Rebecca Rolfe and Joanna Smith, I don’t feel like I’m getting smarter.
Rather, it’s just noisy.
Then there’s a possibility I won’t be able to handle it if the harvesters increase?
Hmm.
I’ll think about it when the time comes.
As I’m planning the future bit by bit, Joanna comes to my room with food.
And soon, Joanna opened the door and came inside. She carefully entered, walked towards a corner, stopped, then walked straight to me.
Memory is still holding onto Joanna.
She opens the door carefully and enters the room without a word. And once inside, she moved through spaces that are not easily visible.
During that time, no one treated her as a person. Often, even when a cleaner is cleaning the road while you’re walking, they don’t even remain in your memory, right?
Then she’s marveling at the situation where her position has risen and she’s being recognized by someone.
This pleasure is the cause of becoming obsessed with rising higher in pseudo-religions.
People are social animals. They’re creatures that find stability in sociality. When recognized by others, the brain gives a reward accordingly.
That’s why people often change when their rank rises. Pleasure destroys people more simply than pain.
I’m curious about what will happen to Joanna who is changing little by little.
Looking at the light in her center that has turned dark purple, it doesn’t seem like it will produce good results.
“Um, excuse me. Here’s the meal.”
I looked at the meal Joanna brought. It’s a dish Rebecca Rolfe has eaten before. As far as meals go, it’s not a particularly unusual meal.
For me, it’s the first meal since becoming this body.
I know how to eat, so I ate it as is. But the taste doesn’t match any of the dishes I know. However, Rebecca Rolfe’s body says it ate what it usually eats.
It’s strange, whether to say the sensation is dual or that they feel independent of each other, it’s bizarre and weird.
It just feels like I’ve digested one daily quest. Then do I need to deal with the byproducts of bodily activity later?
If I want to go, I’ll ask about the bathroom.
Anyway, the most important thing is whether I can get the warmth I want from the food.
However, while the dish itself is quite hot, I don’t feel any sensation of warmth entering when I eat it. I’m still cold.
As expected, it’s not physical warmth that I need.
If I felt warm from physical warmth, I would have jumped into a fire pit.
But.
Isn’t the amount a bit too much?
I’m full after eating less than half.
There’s no reason to eat more, so I left the rest.
Then Joanna Smith starts to do something but stops. Her body tenses. Judging by her mouth opening and closing again, does she have something she wants to ask?
“Do what you want to do. Joanna Smith.”
So when I tell her to do it, Joanna Smith is extremely surprised. She’s surprised to a level where you’d wonder if there’s a need to be this surprised.
Her heart is pounding, and accordingly, emotion and faith are rising wildly.
But still, she can’t immediately do what she wants to do, and after hesitating several times, she asked me.
“What should I call you, if I may ask?”
Ah, starting from there?
Didn’t I introduce myself as Rebecca Rolfe before? Is there also a verse here like “do not take the name of your god in vain”? Well, of course, if the object of faith can be easily called, its dignity would decrease.
Ah, that’s right.
I introduced myself as a cold sea wanting warmth from below the bottom, didn’t I?
It’s understandable. She wasn’t there when I introduced myself as Rebecca Rolfe.
There’s no need to worry about the designation.
“It’s Rebecca Rolfe. It’s this body’s name, but I use it too. So call me by that name.”
“Yes, Miss Rebecca.”
Her gaze moves busily.
Joanna has a color that wouldn’t be strange if she had become an undead or demon in a game. Her skin is dark blue, and her hair has also changed to purple from the scalp.
Rebecca changed to purple all at once, but the parts that originally remained in Joanna are still there. Although the color has faded to white.
Late 50s. When I was human, it wasn’t such an old age, and there were people who could look like they were in their 40s if they took good care of themselves.
But originally, Joanna could have been believed to be in her 80s. Well, the face of someone who has had a hard life does age a lot.
But now she’s changed to late teens or early 20s.
And she’s risen to the rank of warrior of faith. This pseudo-religion has separate ranks for priests and warriors.
Body and hierarchy.
Everything has improved.
Now I’m looking forward to seeing how this person will change. If possible, I hope she changes to be like an isekai reincarnator or a regressor.
Someone who wields desires freely, pretends to follow rules if possible, and eliminates opponents they don’t like.
It’s truly a perfect harvester.
If you pretend to follow rules, it’s difficult to be designated as an enemy by groups. The survival rate increases.
If you wield desires freely, you’ll eventually meet other opponents who wield desires. That’s where the characteristic of eliminating opponents you don’t like shines.
Kill the opponent and give me warmth.
Hehe.
It’s a pity that it’s estimated that the function of thinking for oneself has considerably decreased due to leaving too much to the pseudo-religion.
Therefore, she is indeed an evil person. Because the higher-ups ordered it, she buried people, ruined someone with drugs, and deceived country bumpkins who came up to the city knowing nothing and pushed them into the pseudo-religion.
Of course, people are ambivalent. They’re good to some and evil to others. They can’t be defined by one side.
So I deliberately judge by looking at only one side.
Joanna Smith repeats my name softly a few times, then looks at me again and opens her mouth.
“Perhaps this meal was not to your liking?”
Judging by her strangely awkward tone, it seems like she’s forcibly imitating someone. Is she trying to be polite in her own way?
“You can speak comfortably. And I’m full, so I can’t eat any more of the meal.”
At my words, Joanna blinked, then looked at me and nodded slightly. It’s closer to accepting without understanding.
Well, it is too little for the amount Rebecca eats, who is short but has quite large breasts.
But I’m really full, so it’s a bit much to eat, isn’t it?
At that moment, the door to my room opened.
And Hieronymus and two large men entered. And one young boy.
One of the two men is someone Joanna has seen before. He’s a warrior of faith. The man on the opposite side wearing the same outfit is likely to be one too.
And the boy they brought here is bound in chains, and his face and body are covered in blood.
As Joanna hurriedly stood up, Hieronymus made a calming gesture with his hand and sent her behind me.
Then Hieronymus approached me and knelt down.
“Miss Rebecca. As you said, I’ve brought a sacrifice.”
As soon as Hieronymus spoke, the boy sprang up, but the two men behind him grabbed the boy’s head and kicked the inside of his legs to forcibly make him kneel.
A sacrifice.
This is Hieronymus saying not to use it for other purposes but as a sacrifice.
If given, I won’t decline.
I have to use resources to make harvesters, but I don’t know how long I can restrain myself.
I got up from my seat and approached the boy who was in a mess.
The left side is so swollen that it’s not visible at all, but the right side is glaring at me with bright blue eyes. I wonder where they caught this person from?
The light inside his chest is quite large.
It’s full of warmth.
Is there hope? There’s hope for life, optimism for the future, and belief that he can live on.
Does the state of the body have no effect on warmth at all?
I went in front of the boy and reached out to the light. My arm split and dark purple smoke flowed out, immediately swallowing the light in the boy’s chest.
It’s warm!
But that’s only for a moment.
The cold rushes in again. It was much, much warmer than those who usually come to me, but the duration is… hmm.
The dark purple smoke comes out. There’s a blackened, withered light in the boy’s chest. Looking at it like this, it’s different from Joanna who I didn’t eat the warmth from.
Joanna’s light was just dyed a purple color close to black, but this boy. The person named Isithur la Planja just became like a crumpled black lump. There’s a very faint light in the center, so you can tell that this was once the light in a living being’s chest.
When the dark purple smoke completely came out, the boy collapsed.
He’s breathing, so he’s not dead.
Looking through Joanna’s eyes, Hieronymus is staring intently at me and the boy, observing, one man feels uneasy, and the other man is just standing there calmly.
The boy collapsed.
But that’s only for a moment.
His whole body writhes while gathering something like purple mist. Alien organs sprout on his face, his back swells and muscles stretch. Only one arm grows, making him asymmetrical.
But before it mutates further, the boy’s neck was cut.
One of the men behind cut his neck with the sword he was holding. There’s something similar to what I felt from the arrow last time smeared on it.
He died bleeding fluorescent blue blood instead of red blood.
I saw the blood on my hand when his neck was cut. It was pushed out from my hand, then bubbled and disappeared.
Ah, I see.
I learned one thing.
This mutation didn’t occur because I pushed in power. If you take away all the warmth while having light, you can use power similar to mine.
The purple smoke that the monster absorbed into its body as it became a monster wasn’t me.
Remembering this phenomenon, I greeted Hieronymus.
“Thank you for the warmth.”
Then Hieronymus used literary rhetoric to say “You’re welcome” at length.