Aiden left the room and instructed a maid to teach Serena how to put on her maid uniform.

Then, she was to start training Serena in basic maid duties.

He reminded her never to touch Serena’s bare skin.

When the maid heard that, she looked at Aiden with a complex expression, thinking he was oddly possessive of the poor girl.

Seeing her face, Aiden decided to let her be.

With a sigh, he murmured, “Make her happy,” though the smirk on his face clearly showed he felt anything but happiness about the situation.

He knew he had to fulfill his promise, yet as he observed Serena’s demeanor—so different from what she projected outwardly—he was already regretting his choice.

But, inevitable as it was, he could only rely on the crow to guide him.

“Happiness is subjective,” he muttered to himself.

Though her power was useful, he didn’t want anyone so uncertain around him.

Unlike Dev, who simply wanted to sleep, Serena was a complete enigma, a beautiful doll wrapped in mystery.

Her beauty held no sway over him.

She might prove valuable now, but there was no guarantee the crow—or she—wouldn’t change her mind someday.

Aiden knew he couldn’t harm her, but there was nothing stopping him from sending her to some remote village, where she could live out her days in peace.

Her curse was inactive now, but he wasn’t so naive as to believe that it would stay that way indefinitely.

“I need to be prepared,” Aiden murmured.

Heading toward the marquis’s study, he continued contemplating the challenges ahead.

“The slave seals won’t help me in the long run,” he muttered.

Originally, he’d thought he could use them to control the organization, but the standard seals wouldn’t work on stronger individuals.

He could get higher-grade seals from the Mage Tower, but he didn’t have the money—and even if he did, the Tower Master wouldn’t waste time on him.

Aiden wasn’t in the mood to deal with those arrogant mages, who cared only about their research and saw everyone else as insignificant.

Entering the marquis’s study, Aiden saw the slaves working diligently.

At the sight of him, they stopped what they were doing and bowed.

“Good morning, Master,” they said in unison, avoiding his gaze.

Noticing the smaller stack of papers compared to yesterday, Aiden nodded in satisfaction.

“Continue with your work,” he said with a wave of his hand, then took a seat at the main desk.

He grabbed a blank sheet, dipped his pen in ink, and started writing.

His handwriting was precise and elegant, a testament to his years of study in calligraphy.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

As he wrote, a faint smile spread across his face, and he chuckled quietly now and then, clearly enjoying whatever he was composing.

The slaves exchanged glances, shivering at the sight.

What Aiden considered a simple smile and laugh seemed unsettling to them.

But he was genuinely entertained by the thought of how the recipients would react.

Nothing pleased him more than watching his enemies squirm.

After he finished, two letters lay on the desk.

He gestured to one of the slaves.

“Take these to the messengers. Make sure they’re delivered to Count Shein and Countess Davaris.”

The slave took the letters and quickly left.

Soon all the slaves left the room and Aiden was left alone.

Aiden sat back, deep in thought, as he watched the figure of the slaves disappear down the hallway.

He needed his organization to be fiercely loyal—people ready to lay down their lives for him and his cause without hesitation.

His mind wandered back to his world, where he remembered two prominent types of terrorist factions: the Middle Eastern militants and the communists.

The former were driven by their faith in their leader and god, convinced that death in their cause would be rewarded richly in the afterlife.

They attacked iconic locations, places of renown, each hit bringing greater fame and fear to their group.

Then there were the communists, a true thorn in the side.

Their ideology seeped into universities, where recruits were trained in bomb-making, kidnappings, torture, and assassination.

They targeted crowded public areas, spreading chaos and panic.

The real issue with them was that anyone could be a member.

Aiden remembered how it was practically impossible to tell; even a close relative could be involved, and you wouldn’t have a clue until it was too late.

He recalled the headaches they’d caused.

But here, in this world, where gods’ presence was undeniable, Aiden sensed an opportunity.

"I need a system, something to brainwash the masses," he thought aloud.

Something that could push people to extremes. “Like the Japanese kamikazes,” he murmured, envisioning soldiers driven by purpose rather than mindless sacrifice.

His thoughts drifted to the slaves. They would be perfect for these roles.

Not that he intended to throw all his manpower into martyrdom, but he wanted them to be capable of committing the atrocities he envisioned without hesitation.

With his eyes closed, he let the ideas swirl around in his mind.

There was something there, an idea just on the edge of clarity, something he couldn’t quite grasp but knew held the answer.

He knew the group had to center around religion. In this world and time, nothing moved people more than faith.

The Empire recognized a single religion, with five principal goddesses:

* Lumine, the goddess of purity

* Nuui, the goddess of diligence

* Siri, the goddess of generosity

* Lor, the goddess of charity

* Emel, the goddess of temperance

Each goddess was independent from the others, yet they were all sisters.

The capital boasted five grand cathedrals, each devoted to one of them, and the novels often praised their virtues.

Heres, the goddess of purity, was the most revered of all—and it was she who would ultimately choose the protagonist as the hero.

There had been past attempts to introduce new religions within the Empire, but any such resurgence was swiftly eradicated by the zealous followers of the Five.

If he wanted to eliminate the protagonist, Aiden realized, he’d have to address these goddesses too.

Their devotees were fanatics, and the temples wielded enormous influence over the population.

Though they claimed not to interfere in politics, focusing instead on what they called the “transcendental,” their power was undeniable.

And because these goddesses genuinely existed, it was natural that people would believe in them—they weren’t just ideals but real, tangible entities in this world.

"Perhaps I can create my own god," Aiden murmured, a smirk curling his lips.

But this god would be unlike anything they’d known.

A god of punishment, one who, like the God of the Old Testament, was disappointed in humanity, aiming to purge it from its roots.

A god who demanded penance and redemption through strict punishment.

He grinned. “We will be the ones to carry out his word,” he whispered, the idea exciting him.

"I need a name," he mused aloud, and a name came to him almost instantly.

“Nix,” he decided.

Nix, the primordial goddess of night and darkness.

“We’ll spread her name among the outcasts, the ones left behind by the system. They’ll find solace in her wrath.”

He needed to write a bible, a book where people could find this new truth.

A set of doctrines that preached justice through judgment, purity through punishment.

The thought electrified him. Just imagining the future, the possibilities ahead, made his blood surge.

His eyes shone with a fierce light as he muttered to himself

“The future will be exciting.”

In the dimly lit room, his eyes were the only things that gleamed, filled with a feverish excitement that pulsed with every beat of his heart.