Free things bring joy.
Especially when the free ability is rather splendid, the joy is doubled.
Subsequently, Ruboo attempted to allocate further points to [Physical Constitution], only to be reminded that after version 2.0, each 0.1 increase in an attribute requires double the cost—namely, 20 Containment Points.
He halted and instead invested the remaining containment points into Spirituality.
Thus, his personal information was updated as follows:
[ID: 000]
[Name: Ruboo]
[Species: Human]
[Physical Constitution: 2.0]
[Spirituality: 1.0]
[Abilities: Pyrokinesis; Telekinesis; Health]
[Description: ...]
Feeling the power within him grow stronger than ever before, Ruboo retrieved his pistol and dagger, severed the crocodile man's head and fastened it to his belt, then began climbing the hillside.
It was time to return to the fray.
...
Crackle~~
In the pitch-black night, raging flames lashed wildly through the dense forest.
As time passed, they coalesced into a vast sea of fire, its light piercing the heavens and turning the night sky crimson.
Fortunately, this marshy wetland possessed ample moisture, and the terrain's constraints prevented it from becoming a catastrophic conflagration.
Even so, it caused considerable trouble for Jonah and the other cultists engaged in their hunt.
Madison and Zoe had initially gained the upper hand, achieving considerable success.
However, as their own magical energy gradually depleted and they were reprogrammed, even after half their numbers were eliminated, the cultists no longer displayed their former arrogance. Moving with extreme caution through the trees, they fired sporadic shots while steadily closing in with an encircling formation, gradually turning the tide of battle.
Were it not for the wall of fire blocking their advance, the battle might have ended sooner.
Never underestimate the power of technology.
Even the most formidable spells cannot withstand a bullet too swift for the naked eye to track.
Otherwise, ordinary witch hunters wouldn't have spent centuries relentlessly pursuing witches instead of being utterly annihilated by them.
Compared to the witches of the Dark Ages, Madison and Zoe were undeniably inexperienced.
In turn, the cultists before them lacked the professionalism of witch hunters.
Though they worshipped the Crocman with fervent devotion, not every follower possessed the same fearless courage or willingness for self-sacrifice.
Take Mike, for instance. Though he didn't flee when the Crocodile Man roared and Jonah called out,
Yet, witnessing acquaintances struck down by bullets, consumed by flames, or having their necks snapped, he instinctively fell to the rear of the group. Occasionally, he would fire a haphazard shot forward with the crowd before immediately retreating behind a large tree, praying not to be spotted by the witch's demonic eyes.
Yet while he guarded against what lay ahead, he failed to heed what approached from behind.
Snap.
The sound of footsteps crunching on fallen leaves echoed behind him.
Assuming it was a comrade approaching, Mike turned to ask,
Suddenly!
His eyes froze. His hands moved, bringing the muzzle of the double-barrelled shotgun to his own jaw. He pulled the trigger.
With a loud bang, his head shattered like a watermelon hitting the ground.
"Well, that was successful."
Ruboo emerged from the shadows, ever ready to deliver the finishing blow, remarking coolly.
He was testing his mind-control abilities.
Mike wasn't the first, but he was the only one who had successfully taken his own life under his influence.
So-called mind control did not permanently alter a person's psyche.
With Ruboo's abilities, the effect lasted at most a second or two.
Moreover, the subject's willpower, along with the actions implanted into their mind, would also affect the duration of the mind control.
For instance, when Madison made him lick her, he broke free almost immediately after being affected.
Similarly, among the other test subjects just now, when Ruboo commanded them to shoot themselves, only Mike—who had been cowering in the back, clearly terrified out of his wits—complied. The others all refused at the last moment and snapped out of it early.
Faced with the stimulus of death, even though Ruboo had implanted the belief that nothing would happen after pulling the trigger, they questioned and resisted this notion that defied all common sense. This forced Ruboo to finish them off to avoid alerting others.
Ruboo was not disappointed.
After all, sometimes a detour yields equally splendid results.
With his enhanced physique, he moved through the trees like a ghost.
He soon spotted two more cultists.
Aiming at one, he initiated his mind control.
In an instant, the targeted cultist glanced at his companion only to discover the other had transformed into a witch.
Startled, the cultist instinctively adjusted his gun and fired without hesitation.
The next second, his expression flickered with disbelief. When he looked again, the witch had vanished, replaced by his own comrade lying in a pool of blood.
"Good heavens! What on earth is happening?" he exclaimed in disbelief.
"Go ask your god in hell. Oh, nearly forgot—it was devoured by my book."
Emerging from the darkness, Ruboo delivered the final blow with a single stroke.
Having once again contributed to the Earth's population crisis, he rubbed his temples. Though his spiritual energy had increased considerably, after several draining episodes, it still proved insufficient.
How he envied the Supreme Witch's magical prowess.
Speaking of which, I wonder if one could inherit the Supreme Witch Fak's innate aptitude.
The image of Fiona's face—exquisitely made up yet aged beyond her years—flashed through Ruboo's mind.
He couldn't be too perverse.
She could easily be his grandmother.
Ruboo shook his head, glancing at the remaining cultists. It was time to make short work of them.
Not to be a superhero taking on the whole lot.
But rather...
"Hey!!! Your almighty god has come to bless you all! Come and see!"
Ruboo bellowed, hurling the severed crocodile-man head he'd brought along with him into the crowd of cultists.
The cultists, alerted by the commotion, instinctively looked up.
Then, illuminated by the sea of flames, they beheld the enormous crocodile man's head, rendered with startling clarity.
Thud!
The crocodile man's head plummeted from the sky, landing precisely at the feet of Jonah, the cult's leader.
The latter stared at it blankly, his mind going completely blank. His usually eloquent mouth was utterly unable to utter a single word.
Until someone screamed in utter terror:
"The god is dead!"
As if a dam had burst.
The faith of all cultists crumbled in an instant.
"How could the god die? The god cannot die."
"Impossible! Impossible!"
"This must be an illusion! The witch's trickery!"
"Where is the god? Why has he not appeared after all this time?"
"The god... has truly perished!"
"..."
Disbelief, doubt, anguish, despair, bewilderment, and panic filled the hearts of all the cultists.
With the god dead, none possessed the courage to continue fighting the enemy who had slain him.
When the first cultist turned and fled in panic,
Hesitating but a moment, the second and third swiftly followed.
Soon, it devolved into a full-scale rout.
Among them was even the cult leader, Jonah.