"Is it necessary to kill for the sacrifice?"
"Do you really want to leave?" Asahara Shoko retorted, "Or do you think the Supreme God is not worthy of respect? Coming to His Divine Country, are you intending to leave without making any offering?"
Fujiwara Homare was caught in a dilemma for a moment. He secretly glanced at Minamoto Tamako, who was staring at Shirakawa Miki lost in thought, apparently counting on her was hopeless.
He dawdled endlessly, still not taking action.
Asahara Shoko didn’t urge him, sitting back leisurely at the end of the long table, looking as if he was enjoying a show.
Fujiwara Homare racked his brains, pushing his mind to its limit, and finally came up with a solution that was no solution at all: "Hey, the believers who just went out haven’t come back... Shall we wait for them to return before starting?"
Asahara Shoko knew he was diverting the topic but didn’t expose him, instead, he dispatched two more believers to go out and see what was happening.
Fujiwara Homare continued to stall, and three to five minutes later, he employed the same trick again: "Oh, they’re still not back..."
Asahara Shoko sensed something was off, he frowned and ordered a core member of the sect to personally lead a team, keeping communication via walkie-talkie the entire time, to see what exactly those people were dawdling about.
The sect core member was eager to find a chance to earn merit, called out ten or so people, and walked off proudly.
Ten minutes later, the walkie-talkie crackled:
"Um... Sect Hierarch... things seem a bit off..."
"Outside, there are bodies everywhere... all of them are our people whom we sent out..."
"Wait... there seems to be a figure over there..."
A burst of chaotic gunfire resounded, followed by ear-piercing screams. Someone was panting heavily, likely the sect core member fleeing with the walkie-talkie, stammering calls for reinforcements.
Asahara Shoko inquired about what happened, but before the other side could answer, there was a muffled ’thud,’ and all sounds abruptly ceased.
The auditorium became eerily quiet.
The walkie-talkie suddenly emitted the sound of dripping water.
Closer and closer, clearer and clearer, gradually merging with the sound of water outside the door.
Everyone looked up to see a pool of crimson blood seeping under the bright red door. That familiar silhouette returned, the trench coat stained with more blood, the head covering soaked in fresh blood.
This time, without needing Asahara Shoko’s order, all believers simultaneously raised their guns.
In the next moment, the sound of a power outage was heard, the chandelier in the auditorium suddenly went out, plunging everyone into darkness.
The believers aimed at the door, firing based on their memories of its position. Bullets rained down, the gunfire illuminating the floor, the deafening gunshots incessantly echoed. Fujiwara Homare and Minamoto Tamako covered their ears, feeling as if their hearts would leap out of their chests.
This is the power of firearms, with thunderous caliber shattering rock; the might of God dims in the face of fire and iron.
After several volleys, shell casings littered the ground.
Asahara Shoko ordered a cease-fire, the gunshots abruptly stopped, and the damaged door collapsed with a crash. The believers turned on their flashlights towards the door, only to find the corridor outside was filled with the bodies of cultists, not a trace of the dog-headed figure.
The flashlight flickered and suddenly went out, the auditorium plunged once again into darkness, and the crowd heard a muffled sound, like a ball of flesh hitting the ground.
"Turn on the lights!" Asahara Shoko shouted, "Everyone, turn on your flashlights!"
The moment the words fell, a dozen beams of light illuminated, followed by flashes of blades slashing, one by one the beams of light extinguished almost in the blink of an eye. In the swaying lights, blood sprayed everywhere, the idol appeared increasingly sinister, and believers screamed in terror, firing wildly, bullets mistakenly injuring comrades, turning into a complete Purgatory scene.
Amidst the chaos, Shirakawa Miki removed her blindfold and earplugs. Seeing the scene before her, she was stunned, instinctively taking over command, instructing believers to quickly leave the auditorium and move to a place outside with light sources.
Earlier, she was told to participate in a purification ceremony to cleanse their sins, feeling her contributions to the Church were finally being rewarded. Due to having her ears and eyes blocked, she hadn’t heard Master Asahara’s call for a sacrifice.
At present, Shirakawa Miki still thought the Church was being oppressed again, to prevent headquarters from repeating the fate of the branch, she urgently shouted to protect the Sect Hierarch, dragging the dazed Asahara Shoko away.
With someone leading, the order was restored, and the scene gradually stabilized, Shirakawa Miki had all the believers form a human wall at the back door, prioritizing the protection of the Sect Hierarch.
The sect core members scrambled to escape, and amid the crowd’s flight, the sounds of sword beheading were continuously heard, the deceased not even having the chance to scream, the oppressive atmosphere was suffocating.
Fujiwara Homare originally intended to flee with the sect, believing that the dog-headed figure was even more terrifying than the sect.
At the critical moment, Minamoto Tamako grabbed him, signaling him to run in the opposite direction, going out the front door was the best strategy.
Fujiwara Homare had no time to think, he followed since someone was leading, relying primarily on the advice.
Passing through the corridor, he caught sight of his senior—who had been hit by a stray bullet in the chest, reaching out for help.
He instinctively turned back, wanting to help pull him along, but unexpectedly, his senior’s head tilted, and his right hand fell powerlessly to the ground.
The first thought that popped into Fujiwara Homare’s mind was ’Ayaka would be very sad’... Ayaka was the good girl he secretly admired in high school.
Now is not the time for this!
Although his senior died horribly, it wasn’t his fault. His own life was more important. He scrambled, rolling out of the auditorium through the front door.