I Became A Zompirewolf

Chapter 638  Frozen Threads Of Destiny

In a dimly lit chamber that resembled a frigid cave, an air of mystery hung heavy. The room exuded an icy chill, making it difficult to see beyond the pale, faintly glowing light.

At its centre sat a human, cross-legged and peaceful, his eyes closed in deep meditation. Despite the coldness that engulfed the area around him, his demeanour remained unaffected, as if he had become one with the cold.

Surrounding him were a few others, creatures from various species, their breath visible as mist in the cold air, their bodies trembling slightly from the cold.

None of them ever understood how their master could resist extreme temperatures. They had tried to follow in his footsteps countless times, but they never lasted more than a minute.

Even now, when they were clad in layer upon layer of warm clothing, the coldness of the room offered them no respite as they felt a chill run over their body whenever they spoke or did the slightest of moments.

Whereas their master sat there with minimal clothing, just a loincloth, to be exact, and always had a smile on his face.

However, no one knew how long their master's smile would last once he heard the news they were about to deliver to him.

Their faces were marked with tension, and a noticeable unease radiated across their body. They exchanged concerned glances, their whispers barely audible against the backdrop of stillness, deciding who would deliver the news to their master.

Finally, one of them mustered the courage to speak, his voice shaky due to cold and fear. "Master, we've lost contact with the Priest and the deacons we placed within the Orion empire."

He continued, "Our connections have gone silent... and they are most likely dead, or the empire has caught on to the cult and is suppressing any news regarding the priest and his followers."

The meditating man's lips curled into a faint smile, his eyes still closed. He seemed undisturbed by the news, his calm demeanour in stark contrast to the unease that gripped his followers.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, revealing his jet-black eyes. Despite being a former human, the 'yogi' had long since transcended the limits humanly possible. Now he had dedicated his entire life to the Precursors, and his devotion towards them had brought him closer to the cult.

"It appears our little venture in the Orion territory has hit an obstacle," he mused, his voice carrying an air of quiet authority and yet was strangely kind. "But fret not, my faithful companions. This is a minor setback, not a cause for chaos like you believe."

His followers exchanged puzzled looks, their anxiety deepening. "But, Master," one of them ventured, "what should we do? The Priest was a crucial link in our plan. And without him, we have lost all the connections he had inside the empire!"

Another one chimed in, "Not to mention, we have the Xyrans breathing down our necks! They believe we attacked one of their mines in the Ombra sector and-"

A sudden gust of wind froze the man in his tracks... like literally froze his chin, and the rest of the followers immediately quieted down. Their gazes fixed on their feet.

The yogi rose gracefully to his feet, his movements filled with grace and kindness. He walked among his followers, the cold air seeming to part before him. Their trembling bodies stilled as he approached, as if his presence alone could calm their fears.

"Let me enlighten you," he said, his tone steady and assured as he approached the man with the frozen jaw. "We are not mere pawns in this game. Our influence extends far beyond the grasp of a single priest."

He continued, "If the death of a mere priest gives rise to such chaos within your heart, then you are not ready to fulfil your role in this endless cosmic universe, my child."

As the yogi said those words, tears could be seen streaming down the face of the man with the frozen jaw. After all, everyone there knew what the yogi meant with his cryptic words.

While the followers had their gazes stuck to the ground, the yogi gently touched the man's face. Their eyes met as the yogi tilted his head and smiled.

"Oh, my brave, brave child..." he mumbled. "Even now, fear has a strong grip on your heart. We don't have any place for fear amongst us, do we?"

The followers softly whispered in one tone, "Fear is an illusion. Only those attached to the falsehood of pleasure believe it's real."

"And what should we do if someone embraces fear?" the yogi continued.

"We guide them to the path of truth," the followers replied as one. "If that fails... then we must guide the corrupt soul to the almighty for purification."

"Lovely... may the almighty guide you on the path of truth."

Saying so, the yogi removed his arm from the man's cheeks, and a moment later, he crumbled into cold ash, leaving nothing behind.

He then turned to face the rest of his followers, his gaze unwavering.

"Inform the Archbishops of our situation. This matter requires their attention, not the concern of a Bishop like myself. We have waited patiently, and now it is time for the true worshippers to design our next step."

His followers nodded, a newfound sense of loyalty running within their hearts. After all, they had placed their faith in this enigmatic figure, and his unwavering confidence was infectious.

The man's smile widened, a glint of something almost feral dancing in his eyes. "This setback is but a test of our resolve. We shall weather this storm, and in doing so, we shall pave the way for a future. A future where our lord awaits us."

With those words, the yogi turned away, returning to his meditation spot. His followers watched him, their anxiety replaced by fearlessness.

As they exited the chilling chamber, a spark of unwavering courage ignited within them. They will fulfil their goal... no matter how many souls they must sacrifice.