The door closed gently, and the candlelight flickered in the breeze from the window, mirroring the little boy's trembling heart.

The boy, dressed in filthy rags, looked nervously at the smiling middle-aged man before him. He stammered, "Father Ulu, can you really give me food?"

"Of course." Ulu's smile widened slightly. "Rhyo loves His followers. As His servant, how could I let you suffer from hunger and cold?"

"Then, then..."

"Leave it to me." Ulu slowly approached the boy, arms opening as if to embrace him. "Come here, take off your clothes, and let me cleanse you in the name of the great Rhyo. Become His follower, and you'll stay by His side like me. You won't have to starve or freeze anymore."

Ulu's looming figure seemed to grow larger in the boy's eyes, but instead of comfort, it only filled him with fear—especially that smile.

The boy instinctively wanted to back away, but there was no escape. He could only watch as Ulu stood before him, that demonic smile etched on his face.

And Ulu was pleased with the boy's reaction.

In a daze, Ulu could see himself once standing in the boy's place, staring at the approaching priest.

That memory had haunted him for years, but today, it would end.

Because now, the roles were reversed. He was in control.

"You want food so your family can survive, right?" Ulu's smile grew colder. "The Lord says to gain, you must first give... You don't want your family to starve, do you?"

These words shattered the boy's last defenses. He closed his eyes.

Ulu extended his hand, inching toward the boy.

And then—

Knock, knock, knock.

Sudden knocking, like someone tapping on a table, interrupted them. Ulu froze, his smile vanishing, and turned sharply to locate the noise.

His gaze fell on the wardrobe. He was certain the knocking had come from inside.

"Who's there?" Ulu barked. "Who's inside?!"

There was no response. The sound seemed like an illusion.

The room's atmosphere turned eerie, and the boy held his breath, afraid to make a sound.

Ulu frowned, reaching for the staff on the table.

Who could be so bold as to hide in his wardrobe...? Wait.

A thought struck Ulu.

Could it be...?

He turned to the boy, his expression now blank. "Get out," he said.

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The boy blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

"I said, get out," Ulu snapped, all previous gentleness replaced by fierceness. "Now, get lost. And don’t breathe a word of what happened here tonight, or else... You know what will happen."

The boy swallowed hard, then quickly ran out of the room.

Once he was sure the boy had left, Ulu walked to the door, confirmed that no one else was outside, then closed it again and returned to the wardrobe.

"Could it really be... that thing?"

After several deep breaths, he slowly opened the wardrobe.

Inside was a small box.

As soon as he opened the wardrobe, a clear knock echoed from the box.

The sound struck Ulu's heart, nearly stopping it.

It really was!

Ulu immediately grabbed the box and placed it on the table.

After several more deep breaths, he carefully opened it.

Inside the box was a finger.

Seeing the finger made Ulu's heart skip a beat.

There was no doubt—the knocking had come from this finger.

Ulu stood up abruptly, clasping his hands behind his back, and began pacing.

He knew where this finger had come from.

It belonged to a dangerous ancient figure named Visah'su.

Ulu wasn't entirely clear on what Visah'su had done, only that the gods feared him. They had joined forces to destroy him, even annihilating his soul.

Yet even though they obliterated his soul, they couldn't destroy his body, no matter what they tried.

In the end, the gods used all their power to shatter his body into countless pieces and seal them away. Over time, many fragments of his body had ended up scattered across the world due to the great war, the Wars In Heaven. Although the Four Great Gods tried to recover all the pieces, they never succeeded completely.

Legend had it that whoever obtained a piece of Visah'su's body would gain his power.

And now, here was one of those pieces—a finger.

Ulu had acquired the finger from a black-market dealer—more accurately, he'd extorted it under the guise of being a priest.

To be honest, Ulu hadn't expected it to be real. The dealer had seemed desperate, and Ulu had simply taken what looked most valuable.

The dealer hadn't believed it was real either.

But it was.

He'd stumbled onto the genuine article. Now, what should he do?

Ulu's mind was in turmoil.

Two choices lay before him.

First, he could turn in the finger. As one of the Four Great Gods, Rhyo was also seeking to recover Visah'su's body. Turning this in would earn him considerable merit—his rank would likely rise significantly, perhaps even making him a bishop of some remote diocese.

But that was it.

He had no special talents, nothing to make him stand out. At best, he could serve as a bishop in some backwater region, which seemed like the limit of his potential.

But what if he chose differently?

Ulu stopped pacing, slowly turning to look at the severed finger resting quietly in the box.

What if he kept the finger for himself?

This was Visah'su's power.

Ulu felt something stir within him, a bold ambition sprouting like wildfire.

Over the years, he had tried to rise through the ranks, to gain more power and authority. But without talent or connections, he'd spent twenty years in this church with little to show for it—and might spend another twenty here.

Moreover...

He closed his eyes, recalling the mocking laughter: "You filthy old pervert, you think you can become a bishop? The Rhyo Church doesn't need trash like you. Get lost."

That memory stabbed at Ulu's heart.

When Ulu opened his eyes again, he had his answer.

There was only one answer.

If he let go of this opportunity, he would regret it forever.

Once he confirmed the severed finger was a middle finger, Ulu covered his mouth with cloth, then brought a knife to his own middle finger.

He cut it off.

"Mmm!!!"

The pain nearly made him pass out.

But he gritted his teeth, tossing aside his severed finger, and picked up Visah'su's finger, pressing it to his wound.

Then something miraculous happened.

Visah'su's finger latched onto Ulu's wound, like a baby seeking its mother's breast, attaching itself seamlessly.

Another surge of pain followed.

This time, Ulu almost couldn't endure it.

But as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone.

Within moments, there was no more pain.

Ulu looked down, finding his left hand whole once more. The middle finger rested there, perfectly natural—as if it had always been his.

If not for the blood on the table and the severed finger lying nearby, Ulu might have thought he'd imagined cutting his finger off.

"I... I did it." Ulu raised his left hand, trembling with excitement. "I did it! I... I have Visah'su's power!"

Then he heard a mocking male voice in his mind: "Oh? It seems you really do crave my power."

Ulu froze.