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Chapter Text

"?!" The Cult Leader froze when a dark creature lunged onto their lap, stomach dropping when they saw three red eyes stare back at them.

"Is something wrong, my lord?" The follower asked, stopping midway through his confession (taking an entire incense stick) about falling in love with a mythical creature. Of course, they both felt an intruder enter the building, given that the large entity shook the Confession Booth when slipping inside.

"Continue speaking, mortal." The shadow cat, who sounded exactly like the One Who Waits, shut his eyes and shifted positions to make himself comfortable.

"Y-yes! Of course, our god!" The fish obliged to the voice of god, but this was no longer about his unicorn workmate, but how wonderful the Cult was with the lack of dissenters and prisons.

"..." The Cult Leader ignores the One Who Waits. The task is difficult when the cat nuzzles against the wool along their stomach region. Death keeps adjusting his position, taking his Vessel's entire lap.

...

"Hmm...." The Lamb finished listening to five confessions, but Death had yet to leave them. They need to go out and check if everything is alright. They can see a fancy silk pillow nearby to place him, but how does one hold a god?

"Are you awake, our lord?" The Lamb murmured. They aren't sure where to grab the Chained One, especially when the fallen bishop is in a loaf position. The Red Crown humored them. / There is a tradition in the past that one cannot move until my master leaves your lap. /

"You're getting better at humor, crown." The Lamb whispered, taking a leap of fate and picking the cat like a baby lamb. The fallen Bishop stopped purring when the Lamb placed him on a pillow.

"You may stay here and rest while we cultivate the flock." The Lamb reassured, shutting the sliding door. 

"Lamb?" The One Who Waits slowly opened his eyes, scanning his environment. He stood on all fours and stretched first.

*Thunk!*

"?!" The Lamb almost fell because Death jumped to cling onto their shoulder.

"Let us rest for the day." The One who Waits rubbed his cheek against the Lamb's neck, and the Lamb warmed up as so many followers stared at them. Death does not mind, prioritizing his Vessel. "You have not slept for a while, vessel of mine. Sleep with me."

"Please continue your work!" The Lamb ordered, rushing to their grand shelter to have a word with Death.

Chapter Text

"You have used the propaganda speakers efficiently, my vessel..." The One who Waits caught the Lamb off-guard, creeping behind the Cult leader. "Unfortunately, cultivating common sense will take decades for these feeble-minded mortals."

"Our lord," The Cult Leader did not move, still holding the grimoire and unsure whether to continue re-educating the new arrivals. Because stray creatures wander across the land, the Lamb picks them up to live in the Cult. Unfortunately, their lifestyle is deemed harmful to the community. The lamb focused on their bored god, asking. "Are your servants inadequate to send your divine word?"

"No..." The One Below pressed his face against the Lamb's back, and the Lamb chose not to move from their place. Why were the skies turning dark? The sky was cloudless the last time they looked up. "I sent them off to explore the Surface."

"I see. Do you want us to ask a follower to entertain you?" The Lamb needs to continue teaching these children the doctrines of the Cult. Why do they hear the sound of water droplets? The noise is coming behind them. The Red Crown's words were not useful. / There is no intent to harm you, Lamb. / 

"I shall wait." The Chained One rubbed against his Vessel's fleece. The Red Crown added while the Lamb tries not to fall off from the force. / My master plans on dragging you back to his domain. /

"You don't have to." The Lamb already advised Death to stop visiting and degrading his reputation. The followers in the Cult of Death somehow gain an idea that the One who Waits and the Lamb are in a relationship. The Lamb is doing their best to keep the followers plentiful and devoted. No one wants these creatures to rebel after the imprisoned bishop fulfills his end of the deal.

"We are in an agreement. Delegate the task to another." The One Who Waits finally pulled back, but his voice echoed across the temple ground louder than the propaganda speakers. "Where's the Loyalty Enforcer? They will suffice."

"We still need to gather the gold bars and re-fuel the speakers-" The Lamb finally turned to face the voice, taking several steps back. Their back bumped against the wooden block. No wonder the dissenters were whimpering and soiling the garments bestowed to them!

"This is nothing." The One who Waits stared back at them, ignoring his blood dripping onto the ground.

"You..." The Lamb had the Red Crown grab hold of the grimoire for them. When the fallen Bishop gifted them a blueprint, the Cult Leader did not think the One who Waits to use the decoration to emerge from his prison. Because there are still two bishops alive, Death is bleeding from the overexertion against his chains. The Lamb frowned, setting their intentions across. "No! That is not nothing? You are bleeding! Go back at once and tend to your injuries!"

"..." The One who Waits looked away, which clearly means the lamb has to destroy other potential pathways before the feline god would force his head into another hole. Sometimes, Death is more cat than god.

"?!" The Lamb turned to look at the source of warm air, apologizing to their temporary prisoner. "Apologies! We didn't mean to"

"No. I accept your blessing wholeheartedly." The bear didn't mind getting suffocated?

"How is that a boon?" The Lamb tilted their head, confused.

...

"Sacrifice the creature." The One Who Waits randomly declared.

"Hold on. Isn't that unreasonable to-" The Lamb tried to reason with the god, but why are several of their followers coming forward with chains and stakes?

/ Majority of your followers pair you with Death. / The Red Crown stashed the grimoire underneath their fleece, summarizing the follower's thoughts. / Cuckoldry is not popular in your community. /

"Cuckoo- What now?" The Lamb doesn't remember reading that term in any of the scriptures passed along Shamura's teachings.

"Do not fight against the decision of your god and our followers." Death slowly moved his head back into the gateway, leaving a trail of ichor. "I expect tribute upon your visit."

"The day is not yet done!" The Lamb has so many tasks to do! The sun is hours from setting, and they can start another crusade and gather followers and resources!

"Don't worry! We got this!" The stag pushed the confused cult leader away from the prison area. "All you have to focus on is your date with your One True Love!"

"Our One True God, you mean?" The Lamb corrected, but their loyalty enforcer was too busy in his own little world.

/ Regardless of your sexuality, the followers will pair you with my master. / The Red Crown sat on their head, disclosing unnecessary information. / The dynamic between the two of you is silly. /

"What is this nonsense?!" The Lamb cried in disbelief.

Chapter Text

Aym and Baal never imagined their master to draft a blueprint of how he envisions his temple ground. Baal then wondered how Death got a large parchment when imprisoned in this emptiness, but Aym knew this had something to do with the Lamb. Like an actual representation of the star drawn from the cards, the prophesized vessel motivated the One who Waits for his impending freedom. The fallen bishop chose to ignore centuries of unprocessed emotions in favor of the future, ordering his two trusted servants to set forth and command the followers living at the Surface to adjust the Cult grounds.

Half the followers did not even question their arrival, accepting the tasks with laughter and shared gossip. The other half were logically skeptical and fearful, merely following the bold. Baal told Aym how some found similarities with Death upon their appearance. That meant their master attempted to leave the gateway while they were away.

...

"There are a lot of lamb references..." Baal remarked, realizing that maybe his master did not think things through. Unfortunately, the creatures here do not question the god's word. 'A blessing or a curse?'

"No, there isn't," Aym argued, checking the blueprint once more before looking at the Cult ground. "Based on the past, there was the lamb shrine, the scarecrows, and the missionary building..."

"Yes, and we made six sheep tabernacles of pure gold," Baal emphasized at the oddity, which is filled with devotion because the followers love shiny things. "Don't get me started with the lamb statue right beside our master's statue!"

"It's a symbolism of subservience!" Aym defends their master because the One who Waits is making the cult a better place. The Cult Leader never bothered with flooring, lighting, or strategic faith building. "If our master didn't intervene, these creatures would not know what to do with their lives."

"Yes, but no." Baal didn't want to assume these creatures had no hobby before being captured by the Lamb. "We already talked with the Lamb's second-in-command. Everyone has a role in this community. They can do more than pray."

"Why do they pray at our master's statue?" Aym made both of them stare at the statue in question, seeing the followers place camellias beneath the statue. "Do they not understand offering statues?"

"..." Baal glanced at where the offering statues were. "Because it's already full."

"How is that possible?" Aym also looked at the offering statues. They built it three hours ago. The black-robed servant sighed, scratching his head. "How many followers are there again?"

"They never updated us. A minimum of twenty at best..." Baal noticed a bunch of impending followers waiting at the portal. The Lamb has yet to return from their crusade, but the number of new captives must mean they will return soon enough with bountiful resources. Good. They were starting to run out of resources in the Cult. When the disciples notified their master, Death quickly told them to use all of it. Thus, the overall quality of the temple improved by using the combined resources bestowed on the One Who Waits and the Cult's resources.

*thud*

"Our savior is here!" The followers cheered, rushing to their Cult Leader. Baal and Aym have never seen the Lamb crestfallen at the alteration. They did not need to discuss it because resource hunting is hard when everyone is against you. It's like what happened yesterday when their master ordered them to hunt for legumes, herbs, and certain types of grass, probably to serve a dish to serve to the Lamb?

"Should we leave?" Aym asked because the Lamb might hunt them down like a bloodhound.

"We should." Baal agreed, and both servants cast a spell to teleport back to the Gateway.

"Death?!" The Lamb has never raised their voice in the Gateway before, much less exposing this much bloodlust in their aura. Baal and Aym instinctively stood up and summoned their weapon, but the One who Waits merely leaned forward to greet the Lamb. Their master's words caught everyone by surprise:

"Your presence never fails to brighten my mood."

Just as fast as they came, the emotions drained from the vessel. The Lamb stares at the One Who Waits with a slightly befuddled expression. Baal and Aym also glanced toward their master, seeing Death smiling. Baal hoped his master was smiling because of the Lamb's sad attempt to rebel and not because of another concern. The followers are starting to corrupt the servant's thoughts.

"..." The Lamb opened but closed their mouth, utterly confused with the scheme of the vengeful deity. The disciples of Death did not know either, but their master was wise enough to avoid conflict with his liberator.

"Baal. Aym. Monitor the Cult for us. I wish to speak to my vessel." The One Who Waits requested, and both servants shared a look with the confused lamb. Whatever god has planned, Aym knows it must be ominous.

"Is this...! This means nothing!" The Lamb realizes something neither servants figured out, but the imprisoned bishop remains cheerful. It's unnerving. "We are not in denial!"

"Hmmm..." The One Who Waits shooed the two, watching his vessel slowly grow flustered. Baal and Aym hesitantly walked away.

"?" Aym turned to look over his shoulder, almost mistaking the plants he and his brother gathered placed in a bowl several feet away from the lamb. 'Surely, my master would do no such thing.'

Chapter Text

"It is a fool's attempt to deny the truth." The One Who Waits is gloating, much to the Lamb's displeasure.

/ You are easily charmed. / The Red Crown is not helping either.

"Our god. Do pray we are not truly stricken by that so-called emotion." The Cult Leader wasn't sure who stuffed these thoughts in Death's mind, but Death seemed eager to prove the lamb loves him. Unfortunately, the cost was extremely high. 'At least they upgraded the missionary, but what's with those strange tree stump statues bearing our image?!'

"There is no harm in your endless devotion to me, lamb." The One Who Waits rests his chin on their shoulder, taking over their shadow. "You are no stranger to my plans."

"You will lay down your life when I command you, will you not?" Death wraps his arms around the annoyed Cult Leader without care, staring at the map laid on the table.

"We shall, but do not confuse devotion for love." The Lamb can't focus with Death purring close to them. Their heart refuses to work with them. With only a faint glare of the light shining through the slits of the building, the Lamb should modify the windows later. "I choose to align with your cause. As a collective, the sheep have a hate-love relationship since you were the cause of our extinction. Thus, it's best to drop the notion."

"..." The purring of the One Who Waits has stopped, but his mouth is pressing against their neck. When he speaks, the imprisoned bishop may have growled. "Who fits your preference?"

...

"A companion?" The Cult Leader clarified their god's inquiry, curious as to why Death asked such a question. The Lamb frowned, asking in turn. "For what purpose?"

"Answer the question," The One Who Waits refuses to elaborate further. His voice had grown somber, almost foreboding. A god should not be this concerned over such trivialities. The Lamb already confessed that nothing will change as long as they... Oh. Death emphasized, "Your god demands nothing but the truth."

"Apologies for our imprudence..." The Lamb debated what answer to give, and the Red Crown pitched in. / Say cat. It will be hilarious. /

'You are not helping!' The Lamb wishes they could call Ratau, but the One Who Waits won't let them retreat this time. Their mentor is knowledgeable in matters beyond survival. The Lamb doesn't even know when the god will release them from his embrace. The Red Crown rolled its eye. / Do you not know my master is a prideful and greedy god? /

/ Eventually, he will want everything you possess regardless of your decision. Indeed, my master may learn to love others. Although, gods falling in love does not bode well for the mortal. / The Red Crown professed. The Lamb can't ignore the thoughts of the Crown. How can they when this tool had long been with the One who Waits for thousands of more years? Sadly, the lamb needs to know the correct answer to make a lie. Since they are the designated leader of the tribe, love is discouraged to prevent weakness. The same logic applies in the Cult. A cult leader cannot simply choose a follower based on appearance.

"We are not picky..." The Lamb wondered if this was sufficient because Death let them go.

"Judging from how dull our temple ground was before my intervention, I figure." The One Who Waits is walking around, examining the interior for the third time. "Personality?"

'Someone good for the cult?' The Lamb theorized while deciphering where to place their followers to gather resources. "They must be adequate to lead and protect the cult... Responsiveness and social skills can be secondary assets."

"Dodging my question." The imprisoned Bishop set his hands on the table, leaning close. The lamb almost flinched away at the intrusion, staring at crimson eyes. "If you rely on personality, you would not be chaste before me. You are the last of your kind, Vessel. Who else will you give your life for?"

"We do not know." The Lamb needs to answer with a calm mind. For them, love is like an arrow shot at the target. Once it lands, the injury will bleed, and the victim will realize the pain. The receiver either accepts or rejects the incident. "Do you know anyone that fits the description?"

"..." The One Below stares at his Vessel. The Lamb mostly noticed the shadow tail in the form of a question mark emerging from Death's form. / Yes, my master has a tail. /

 "How did I acquire such a naïve vessel?" The feline god looked away, muttering under his breath.

"No one is stopping you from switching our soul.." The Lamb offered, but Death left the building. The Lamb shook their head, attempting to focus on the map. Circling its bearer, the Red Crown inquired. / My master is not fond of change. /

"There isn't much change between my twin and I..." The Lamb reassured, but it sounded like a lie when disclosed. Tragically, the Chained One entered the building, setting down a bowl of Magnificent Mixed Meal on the table. "Thank you for the meal."

"Does this imply I am the only idol in your mind?" His question made the Lamb drop the beetroot in their hand.

"... Yes?" The Lamb is working their best to free this god and hand over a decent size of followers for him to thrive on. They even abide by the Red Crown's desire to perform daily sermons to harvest the Cult's devotion. The Cult Leader grabbed the fallen beetroot to bite, watching the shadow devour two tunas in the dish. "What are your plans if we may ask?"

"Is the answer not obvious?" Death speaks as he sets down two perfect sets of fish skeletons. "I am your god and patron. If my Vessel desires my guidance to cover weakness, I shall grant it."

"Oh." The Lamb has a bad feeling about this. The Red Crown agreed, / My master finds you uplifting to his mood. /

"Whatever you please..." The Lamb gives up, circling the areas fitting for the three followers to venture out of the cult. A ten-minute decision became half an hour. They still have to prepare for the morning sermon.

"None seem worthy." The One Who Waits seems to be back in his good mood, watching the Cult Leader stretch their arms after making a decision. "You may die pure."

"Unfortunate." The Lamb plays along, taking another beetroot and bidding their god farewell. "We will be heading to the temple. Take care."

Chapter Text

"..." The Lamb begrudgingly admits their god to be good at decorating the sacred ground while also taking into account the follower's welfare. Standing in front of their upgraded shrine, the Cult Leader stared at the flames lighting the fire pit. Due to the difficulty of wading through the water, the lamb has begun to explore the exterior of Silk Cradle. Something doesn't feel right. For some reason, they have the urge to kill Kallamar first before ending the life of Shamura. 'Why is that?'

"I made your statue from scratch, bending gold and placing a bell for the final touches..." The One Who Waits interrupted their musing, and the mortal turned to stare at a large mass of bones and meat on the floor. The shadow leaned close, headbutting the startled Cult leader to have the latter fall to the ground. "Why are you not resting?"

"We are ensuring nothing gets burned down from the decor." The Lamb has seen a number of candles. It was an excuse to avoid sleeping, but their patron didn't need to know the truth.

"Is that so?" The One Below examined the Cult, muttering under his breath. "Which part?"

"Placing an eternal flame close to the shelters doesn't seem wise," The Lamb pointed out, especially when they learned the flames originate from another realm. "Do you need an explanation for the lava flooring?"

"Any other blasphemy you plan on uttering before your god?" Despite sounding irritated at his Vessel's remark, Death used magic to lift the decoration and set it on another part of the land. The followers were simple-minded mortals. Catching an illness or starting chaos would only amount to a loss of labor and faith.

"You should also remove the statues bearing our image," The lamb watched the feline god reorganize the lighting, changing the flooring and candles. "Some have no value."

"They will be gone once I am free from my prison..." The fallen Bishop continues to adjust his Cult, and the lamb watches him in wonder. They recall their sibling telling a story where The One who Waits taught the mortals ways to last longer on the Surface. Constant issues in life are resolved one by one, leaving communities to prosper and discover themselves. Hobbies and reading were activities of those who escaped the era of survival and possibly the privileged. The lamb taught the followers how to read and write, but the only story the followers illustrated would be a love story titled - True Devotion. The Lamb has yet to read the famous item, but Ratau reassured them it was a silly story. The decorations placed on the Cult held no value, but it greatly improved morale. The Chained One did not stare at them when he called their attention. "I am listening."

"Is decorating the land your hobby, our lord?" The Cult Leader tried to imagine who could have taught the imprisoned deity such a skill. The Bishop of Pestilence, perhaps? Anchordeep had a strange beauty when the lamb traveled across the waters.

"A hobby?" The Fifth Bishop repeats, neither confirming nor rejecting the idea. The fire pit flickering beside them did nothing to justify the exact size of the shadow of the One Who Waits. "Any activity is better than being imprisoned and forgotten by all..."

...

"..." The Lamb had nothing to talk about while the epitome of Death moved everything. The betrayed bishop has boundless experience in making large tracts of land habitable for long periods of time. The Lamb merely led a wandering tribe, a flock of sheep searching for temporary shelter from the bishops that cannot be killed through ordinary means...?

"Our lord..." The Lamb realized the One who Waits abolishing the Lamb Flag Statue and placing two of the  Tabernacles III beside his statue. "That doesn't seem right."

"True. Two Lamb Flag Statues are more fitting." The One Who Waits glanced down to see the Lamb cover their face with both hands. "But what if..."

"As long as it is...?" The Lamb lowered their hands, only to see TWO statues of The One Who Waits. The Cult Leader can't believe their benefactor could spend so much resources and space to make his image. "Better than our image."

"Not as aesthetic." The fallen Bishop returned to the original idea of two Lamb Flag Statues as if to spite the fatigued lamb. "I should have never doubted my talent. My brilliance knows no bounds."

"..." The lamb debated whether to crusade or head to their grand shelter. They can record their progress and converse with the Red Crown on their next objective. The Lamb decided, "Our god. Permission to rest?"

"I will follow shortly." Death ominously foretold the languid vessel. The Red Crown spoke up, having spent the time analyzing creatures its current owner cannot slaughter during the crusade. / You two are growing reliant on each other's company. /

"Crown. That sounds like a warning," The lamb mumbled, dragging their hooves to their dwelling. "Must we solve the concern?"

/ Unless you gain affection for my master, there is no point in the intervention. / The Red Crown explained, getting off the lamb's head once its master entered the grand shelter. / Do you suppose my master will follow you into the Outhouse? /

"You and your curiosity..." The Lamb grabbed a cotton towel purchased from Plimbo, waiting for the Red Crown to return from the quick rinse to dry it off. The Lamb considers the crown like a kitten, hearing it chirp while they dry the tool. "We doubt it."

"Doubt what?" Speak of the devil, the One Below entered the dwelling and went straight to the bed. The Lamb continues to clean the crown, watching the large cat take most of the space of their supposed resting place. "You have the best bed, vessel."

"When we die, you can have it." The Lamb offered, watching the creature that awaits all sprawled over their bed.

"Increase the size for my use," The One Who Waits kicked their pillows, tilting his head to look at them with a grin. The Red Crown squinted at the intruder. / My master may go away once you rub his stomach. /

"Drop the Crown, and lie beside me." Death turned away, making room for the lamb cradling the Red Crown. "None shall harm you in my presence."

Chapter Text

"What bothers you, Lamb?" Ratau asked after the Lamb shut the door behind them. The orange gemstone dangling above illuminates the closed room. Since the majority dislike cleaning fecal remains and vomit, only former Cult Leaders had the determination and courage to walk within the vicinity of the Janitor Station. "Does your issue concern our benefactor?"

"Yes. We.." The current Red Crown bearer was the first to look away from their mentor, staring at the floor. Ratau took note of how clean the latter was despite being in the Gateway for almost two days.

"Take your time... Your mentor is understanding of your plight," Ratau reassured his pupil. He wouldn't deny getting caught off-guard when Baal and Aym entered his Lonely Shack, agreeing to the request to govern the Cult until the leader's return. The Cult of Death welcomed him as a familiar face, resuming daily activity with low chances of dissent within the flock. However, the past Cult Leader heard gossip of the prophesized Lamb having gone on a date with Death himself. It was a silly rumor..

"We... We may have truly fallen for Death!" The Lamb's tone was on the verge of laughing and crying. No one expected the outrageous confession. Indeed! This conversation could cause a riot! "The moment when Death emerged victorious over us, we... Our god almost tempted us to lose once more to see his joy!"

"Stop! Say no more!" Ratau had dropped his wooden staff out of shock, ignoring it to head over to comfort his anxious successor. Both would not admit it, but they were very competitive when immersed in games and bets.

/ ... / The Red Crown flew off its owner's head, whispering words while circling the sullen Lamb.

"Lamb. Breathe! Your words cannot be true!" Ratau could read the Lamb like an open book and recognized the theory of proximity influencing compatibility, but the theorized idea was a miracle. Ratau reasoned more to himself than the Lamb. "The thoughts in your head are not real!"

"Even so... The symptoms experienced are reminiscent of those lovestruck creatures before us!" The Lamb found the notion of love extremely undesirable, which Ratau should fix if not for the fact the entity in question is Death himself. During his time as the crown bearer, Ratau learned several aspects of the One Who Waits while crusading against Kallamar. Death should never be considered a viable love candidate! The Lamb narrated, "We discovered our affliction after Death finally won against us in our 250th game of Knucklebone. If this is a curse... Ratau. We can't let Death learn about this!"

/ ... / The Red Crown is laughing, whispering an eldritch language understood only by its owner.

"You spent the entire day playing Knucklebones with the One Below," Ratau repeated the facts. Whenever he tried to convince his patron to play with him, the feline god refused. What did the Lamb do to convince the god? Ratau asked, needing further clarification. "Did you feed him anything? The One Who Waits is not the type to gamble without a cost."

"Nothing- (The Lamb gasped.) Excellent idea! Before his passing, Sozo passed us a recipe to cleanse the mind of all impurities." The fluffy god slayer clasped their hands together like a prayer, smiling in relief. "Do you mind if you tend to our flock a bit more? We would not be gone for long."

"No. You are cold and sleep-deprived. I would not be surprised if you lack sustenance as well-?!" Ratau stretched his arm, feeling the temperature of the lamb's forehead. He frowned, moving his hand down to the lamb's neck. "There is our answer! All this nonsense you're spouting is because you are sick!"

"We are?" The lamb looked at Ratau in awe, checking their temperature as well. They could not refute the latter's allegation. "Oh."

"Next time, you should balance your time. We are both mortal, after all." The rat has only known this lamb for at least a month, but he would willingly act as the latter's guardian and beat whoever admirer seeks the child's hand in marriage. "If whatever you say continues to persist, we shall attempt whatever... Remedy this Sozo person bestowed to you."

"It is but a cup of tea..." The Lamb watched the Red Crown voluntarily grab Ratau's staff. "Thank you for lending an ear for us, Ratau. We would not know who else to go to but to you."

"Not another word. I should be the one thanking you. The One who Waits would indeed be a worthy opponent for Shrumy in a game of Knucklebone," Ratau humored, accepting his staff from the Red Crown.

"Steady..." Ratau led the Lamb out, making sure the latter did not fall.

"What a peculiar meeting place," Three crimson eyes stared back at them in the darkness, causing the lamb to fall back against Ratau. "Gold for your thoughts?"

"Our lord." The rat refuses to flinch away, staring at the curious deity. "The Lamb is sick. You should not have kept them awake and cold in your prison."

"... Tend to them," Death ordered, shutting his eyes. A second later, the area was released from the darkness.

"..." Ratau has experienced a lot of things. Whatever happened is beyond his expertise. 'What did the lamb do to Death?!'

Chapter Text

The Cult Leader looked at the mating tent, where they recently emerged from, before slowly looking at the One who Waits standing several feet before them. The Lamb face palmed as the Red Crown swirled around them.

"?" The servants of Death sat in their places, wondering what would happen between their master and the chosen beast this time.

"..." The Lamb dropped their hand, mustering their sanity. The Red Crown chuckles, finding both its long-term master and current possessor entertaining.
 

...

"Our god..." The Lamb called out, staring up at the imprisoned bishop.

"Yes, Vessel of mine?" The Chained One crouched yet still needed to stare down at the Lamb. The fallen bishop dented the ground with his claws, eyes glowing crimson behind the veil.

"We humbly request our god allow us to continue our Cult Leader activities," The Lamb refuses to step back, smiling in turn.

"Denied." The One who Waits jovially answered.

"Eh?" The lamb did not expect the rejection.

/ Pfftt! / The Red Crown fell off the Lamb's head, laughing.

"Crown. Can you please?" The Lamb had already argued with the Red Crown hours prior, and now this nonsensical immortal made the same verdict on dismissing a necessary lesson for the flock. "Why would this displease you, our god? This is the appropriate remedy to obtain followers with ideal traits to the cult-"

"Anyone but you shall partake in the sins of the flesh," Death loosened his grip on the floor, resting his arms on the ground. The Lamb is starting to regret standing still because this deity keeps inching closer to their area. "Have you forgotten our agreement, Lamb?"

"Our deal ends once the bishops die, and the Red Crown returned to its rightful owner," The Lamb repeats the contract they entered on their first interaction. When Death smiled, the lamb added with mild concern. "... We must also maintain the cult in your name."

"That is not all. Shall I remind you once more?" The One who Waits tilted his head, eyes still fixated on the sheep. Although the feline god appears cheerful, the background slowly dyes red while the god speaks. "You are mine - soul, body, and mind. Everything you possess belonged to me the moment you fell into my domain. I am your reason and purpose of living, and none shall covet my position. Anyone foolish enough to stand between us will have their souls stripped of their senses and tossed into the jaws of purgatory."

"Aym. Why does that sound like a.." Baal spoke to his sibling while his master showed his need for control over the fluffy beast. "You know what I mean."

"No. It cannot be." Aym was shaking his head, believing the One who Waits is merely asserting his place in the hierarchy of priorities of the Lamb. "Master is simply apprehensive to the ideas of the vessel."

"Are you sure this is not because master wishes to monopolize-" Baal got cut off by his sibling, whose tail was puffing out.

"Baal! Enough. Master would never stoop as low as to gain feelings towards the beast." Aym speaks mostly to convince himself rather than his kin.

"Yes, but how shall we regulate the flock once they begin to mate?" The Lamb has a feeling the immortal was misunderstanding their intention. Under the lamb's leadership, the Cult of Death does not limit critical thinking and autonomy. Inevitably, an era of peace will flourish. The Cult Leader won't put it past his followers to have carnal desires. Before these cultists begin fornicating with reckless abandon, the Lamb must make the first move and set guidelines to prevent a spike in debauchery.

"Do not burden yourself with our feeble-minded followers. I will handle them upon my return." The imprisoned bishop reassured his vessel, lazily swishing his tail. Death trapped the lamb between his hands, reading their thoughts. "Dismantle the tent. None shall spurn your decision once the sun sets."

"Wait! You can't! I-We mean..." The Lamb did not expect the One Below to actively deal with his followers. Agares did tell them how intrusive The One who Waits was, feeling Death's gaze as their members ventured out to meet their families once or twice a week. If not for Ratau, the feline god would have discerned the act of leaving HQ as an act of dissent. "We respectfully beg our lord that we be given the duty to handle the theoretical protest."

"Please me, and I shall consider it." Death bunts the lamb, raising his tail.

"Have you tasted suraa, vessel?" The deity mulled while the Cult Leader contemplated what steps could be taken to please him. "Or have the bishops diversified the beverage? Shamura may have introduced it during spiritual rites. It's an intoxicating drink."

"We have drank fruit wine on certain festivities..." The Lamb attempted to scratch their patron's head, recalling their cat follower's preference. "Are these drinks necessary to the flock?"

"You shall see," Death lowered his eyelids, lightly purring.

/ You have doomed yourself. / The Red Crown told its bearer. / Death is scheming. /

"May the followers you enlighten be eternally grateful," The Lamb ignored the crown's outrageous warnings. 'What could go wrong with a god teaching his followers how to brew fruit juice?'

Chapter Text

*Crash*

"..." The Lamb pretends not to hear the noise, refusing to get off their bed despite the untimely guest. Their followers suggested covering the openings of the house with crystal, which made the sunlight change color during the day. However, the One who Waits is a creature of unpredictability. The god could enter the room through the slits or manipulating the light. No... The fallen bishop chose to take a shadow form and brute force his way into their shelter. The shelter entrance utilized silk from Silk Cradle!

"Prrrrpt!" Death has also started thrilling(?) for the past week or so. Their feline followers also thrill at them, so the Cult Leader thought nothing of it. They secretly prefer the god's original voice. Any moment now, the Red Crown will wake up and drag their patron back to the Gateway. The Lamb has no energy to entertain the One who Waits tonight. They are tired.

"Mrrrmpp?" Someone climbed over their bed. The Chained One is probably ready to spout insults or taunts. The One Below is not fond of weaknesses and will hold the incident over their heads. The Lamb can do nothing but accept the jabs. The agreement between the two only requires them to build a cult, kill the bishops, and return the crown. The Lamb only needs to kill two bishops and return the crown. They don't have to waste energy- "What bothers you?"

"?" The Lamb probably misheard their god's tone, opening their eyes and turning their head to see three red eyes staring down at them. Hugging their pillow for comfort, the sheep blinked at the foreigner. The gaze is strangely warm, or are they imagining things? The Lamb asked, "We... We weren't paying attention. What did you say?"

"Tsk! You are of no use to me tonight. Go to sleep," The One who Waits ordered, scooting closer to rest beside the befuddled lamb. However, as soon as the lamb is about to drift to sleep, Death decides to stand up and find a better resting position. The Lamb is reminded of their time sleeping with the little ones, waking up in the early morning to shrill cries and the scent of poop. Children are the only ones allowed to poop anywhere. The adults are trained through bribes or force to utilize the outhouse.

"..." The One who Waits is hissing with one paw stepping on their head. The god proceeds to walk over their back, sitting down before standing up to jump to the other side. His tail is moving their blanket.

*flick*

"..." The Lamb frowned, feeling something squeezing itself between them and the pillow. 

*thunk*

"Mrrooo..." Having their pillow removed from their arms, the Lamb sighed as their patron lay beside them. A cold thing, and did their god lick them? That sounds like a lick.

"???" The Lamb opened their eyes once more, staring at the darkness they now held in an embrace. They try to comprehend the situation, but nothing is making sense. Death would not allow them to hold him without permission. Actually, who can hold this god? The sheep tries to search for a justification. They are not suffering from any ailment to deserve attention. The sheep asked, "Are you cold, our lord?"

"Do not question my charity and rest," Death refuses to answer the question, but there was a rumbling noise when the lamb pulled the entity close. This shadow is nothing like the imprisoned bishop stuck in the Gateway. There is no scent, no texture, and no detail. This is a shadow that emits cold air... 

...

'A figment of our imagination, perhaps?' The Lamb presumes, pressing their face against the darkness. Their mind supplies the gaps with their memories, making the One who Waits purr as if he finds the scenario comfortable. That also explains why the Red Crown has yet to intrude.

"Is this a dream?" Feeling their blanket slowly raised to cover them, the Lamb rubbed their face against the cold creature. Their patron being extra nice is an odd occurrence.

"Whatever you believe in," The One who Waits is purring louder. How strange. The Lamb never imagined their mind to perceive the One Below as a Cat instead of a god. Then again, Winter is fast approaching. The Red Crown gave the Lamb a rough estimate of when Death would regain his true form. The sheep should find someone capable of knitting clothes for a large cat. As if acting on character, the curious immortal asked. "Do you dream of me, vessel?"

"Hm..." The Lamb dug through their memories, closing their eyes. "There was that one time where you asked for an audience with us and revealed some sort of nudist ritual."

"That was not a dream," Their dream version of the One who Waits turned and hugged their face. Fortunately, the Lamb can't suffocate from a mere shadow. "I told you that idea three days ago. I offered the fig leaf solution to cover the sensitive portions, but you fell asleep before me!"

"Yes, that is a vague summary of our dream three days ago. That doesn't answer whether or not this is a dream." The Lamb's voice is muffled, and the feline immortal is rubbing his cheeks on their horns. "Last question. Do you know who is our first love interest?"

"Your love interest?" The Chained One drawled and quickly made a comeback. "You wish to speak of the bishop, who shoved you to the path of faith? That is not love. That is awe. Do you crave a discussion concerning the vessel of the mushrooms? You adore his ambitions, nothing more. I am a god with ambition. Why do you not worship me with fervor? Why do you laugh?"

"Because this dream is silly..." The Lamb never thought they would imagine the One who Waits to be so chatty over mundane matters.

"You are smiling like a fool," Death scoffed.

"Meh..." The Lamb is unable to keep their consciousness awake even in their sleep. The lamb bid their temporary dream companion adieu. "Good night, love."

Chapter Text

"Why choose one when you can have both?" The Lamb explained to Baal how they convinced the flock to accept most liturgies focused on food. In memory of Sozo, the Lamb encouraged mushroom use. The Lamb thought it would be a good idea to borrow Death's servants and show them the ropes of being a Cult leader. "Thus, we take both answers and have the flock adjust."

"If so, why do you not decide on advancing the rites concerning the Afterlife?" Baal asked in turn, glancing up to see Aym reading the Cult rules for newcomers. Regardless the age, disability, and past, the Lamb will accept the creature with open arms as long as the latter shows the desire to worship Death.

"We do not touch that." The Lamb shook their head, choosing to change the subject instead. "Anyways, Sozo's mushroom ritual can be used once a week and can be paired with several rituals to enhance the capabilities of the flock. For example, we paired the mushroom ritual with Work Fervor, which helped finish the facilities while we crusade along Anura and Anchordeep. You can also pair the mushroom ritual with the three-day fast to prevent the flock from worrying about you or our god's absence."

"Why not perform a rite to finish all construction instead of having the followers work nonstop?" Aym set down the parchment, grabbing the next papyrus sheet and seeing a list of names and traits. "And why do you allow the Cult to remain idle after every six days?"

"The flock requires tasks to gain a sense of purpose in this cult. Hence, we avoid rites that reduce the workload without their assistance except when necessary." The Lamb noticed Baal checking the Commandment stones. "Concerning the rest day allotted on the seventh day, the flock must learn to live for themselves to realize the blessings given by the One Below."

*knock knock*

"Who is it?" The Lamb asked while the two servants glared at the door.

"Benevolent leader! We find our mornings empty without listening to your glorious wisdom!" A follower cried, and the lamb looked behind them, seeing the tinted glass shine.

"We cannot blame your reverence over the One Who Waits. Open the doors and embrace our words," The Lamb understands their flock's plight. The door opens, and a ton of followers enter the sacred facility. The two felines quickly retreat to stay behind the Cult Leader, curious.

"What is today's topic for the sermon?" Baal asked while they held onto the sermon book.

"We're thinking about it." The lamb confessed, and they could feel the scrutiny on their right.

"Why allow the followers to come forth when you have nothing to say?!" Aym hissed, but the Lamb was still in deep thought. "Is that one of the skills we must polish, the art of spontaneity?!"

"Yes!" The Lamb bleated in the utmost confidence. The black-robed feline almost fell off the stage. "When preparing a sermon, you either (1) read a page of the scripture to explain to the flock its relevance; (2) discuss the past for history not to repeat; or (3) a story chastising or praising a flock member accompanied with a rite. We could do all three, but that's often on a Holiday. Sparkles suggest integrating hymns, but we are not confident in our singing abilities."

"We love you, great leader!" The followers cheered.

"..." Both disciples of Death had a feeling the cult was more of the Cult of the Lamb than the Cult of Death. These devout followers seemed willing to follow the Lamb without fail.

"... Or we can simply pray to the One Below?" The Lamb placed their hands on the altar, staring at the book. Aym saw the Red Crown nodding, and the sheep took a deep breath. Both servants took a step back, Aym losing the grimoire as the book flew to the hands of the Lamb.

"Which one will you do?" Baal asked as the lamb began to glow.

"The last," Aym muttered, seeing a series of lights encase the sheep as the followers clasped their hands and worshipped the beast. They cannot understand what the Lamb is saying, only the vague sense the words revolve around the Red Crown. "Never mind. The last option is more focused on the Red Crown."

"We only know limited god language," Baal sighed as the Lamb finally returned to the ground-?!

*The temple darkens*

"???" All three of Death's most faithful servants turned to see a dark shadow looming above all. The familiar three eyes cannot be mistaken.

"Master?" Aym whispered while Baal stared.

"Instead of having our followers carry a burden for several seasons, they will lay an egg." The One who Waits randomly visits to elaborate on his achievement, uncaring of the subsequent confusion. "Despite the improved efficiency, I cannot forgo the ritual requiring high affinity between the pair."

"We do not question your omnipotence, but how exactly did you test the facility?" The Lamb DEEPLY regrets not visiting Death for three days. Baal turned around, hearing the followers wonder what is happening right now.

"We share the same sentiment." Death grinned, and the flock gasped at Death's incoming suggestion. "Shall we try the tent for good measures, vessel? I am curious to the limits-"

"B-but, the pair needs high affinity!" The Lamb took a couple of steps back, bumping the altar. "May we suggest having an infertile couple use your blessing?"

"..." The Chained One squinted at the Lamb, striking a nerve by placing two lamb statues inside the temple. The god smiled as if nothing was amiss. "Visit my domain when the sermon is over. We have much to discuss."

*The temple brightens*

"Crown. Find us something to do." The Lamb covered their face while Aym and Baal returned to the Gateway. The flock walked out with theories in their mind.

/ A strong soul is nearby... / The Red Crown cackled. / But visit my master first! /

Chapter Text

"It's cute," the Lamb remarked, staring at the customized teepee materialized by the One who Waits after fulfilling a bizarre task. They were fishing when a black bony arm rose from the waters, grabbing their form and dragging them down to the abyss. The Cult leader hopes the Fisherman does not alert the residents of the Lighthouse of what happened to them. The One Below might have made it a hobby to scare the people around his vessel.

"A vibrant shelter," The sheep added, tentatively circling the tent. The teepee utilized the same cloth and pattern found on the fleece bestowed to the Cult Leader by Death on their first meeting. The lamb pondered the reason for the large bell collar, but they appreciated the tiny white tent. The Red Crown is similar to its true owner, craving a sense of belonging and an insatiable thirst for power. "The Red Crown will love this very much."

"Investigate further. Despite its appearance, there is reasonable space from within," The Chained one urged his vessel to explore, pleased by their curiosity. The Lamb lightly tapped the large bell before entering god's gift. A small chest, a handful of books, and trinkets can fit inside. Unlike the Grand Shelter, the so-called Leader tent can fit one person alone. As if reading their mind, god spoke from outside. "As long as I remain in chains, you will never experience marital bliss."

"What is that...?" The Lamb was unsure what that term entails. According to Ratoo, the weddings of Darkwood are the best with the exciting blend of culture enabled by Leshy. Silk Cradle heavily relies on tradition and solemnity. The Lamb often slept through the processions when they were young, waking up to see the herd departing to call it a day. 'Maybe it is akin to a holiday? We enjoy holidays...'

'What a cruel god,' The sheep concluded, concentrating on the task at hand. The prophesied lamb doesn't know how a bishop trapped in the Gateway obtained cotton fabric. However, the lifespan of such a handicraft denotes god's desire that the receiver should use the tent.

"My Crown says you and I have the same fondness for the night," Death explained the shelter's structure. The a lack of privacy as the tent could not close itself. The Lamb lay on their side of the tent, needing to tuck their hooves to rest within the tent.

'We enjoy the solitude, not the darkness...' The Lamb changed position, entering their usual resting form. Their head is partially sticking out of the tent. They try to imagine using the shelter on the Surface, closing their eyes. 'Winter is near.'

"Why does your heart bleed?" Death noticed the sullen mood of the beast, returning his focus to the sheep.

"It is a lovely tent," The Lamb repeats, opening their eyes. Clauneck says the end of winter will be a harsh time, paving the way for a lovely spring, which everyone shall embrace. A new era for all within the Land. The words of the tarot card reader are the primary reason why the lamb upgraded the shelters of their followers. They could survive sleeping outside, having yet to shear their wool. No. They won't even be alive at the start of winter. The Lamb stood up, exiting the tent. "But, we can't-"

"As your god, you are to utilize this as your second home," The Chained One interrupted his vessel, lying flat on the ground. Several hours prior, Death had twisted himself with his restraints after sending his servants to the Surface. Since the One Below didn't want to shorten the time given to Aym and Baal during their exposure trip, he summoned the lamb to assist him. Pretending he didn't spend time creating the crud shelter with his vessel in mind, the imprisoned bishop bestowed the craft to the lamb after they untangled the chains.

"We thank our lord's blessings," The Lamb bowed, utterly ignorant that the god was watching their loyalty level to him. The increase is lower than the usual gifts shoved at the beast.

"Come closer," Death raised his arm, using his finger to push the lamb to meet his gaze. Initially, he blamed the Red Crown, presumably giving the sheep immunity from all gods. However...

"Where is my crown, vessel?" The One who Waits tilted his head, shifting his veil for the lamb to look into his eyes. He does not know why the lamb's thoughts are muffled and blurred. More importantly, the Fifth Bishop asked. "Have you made a deal without my consent?"

"We can call the Crown if you wish. Although, we only call upon our friend to keep resources, transport followers, and slay the bishops," The Lamb is equally confused by the feline god's concerns. They gave context. "Our twin managed to scavenge scriptures within temples built by your fallen disciples. By editing your resurrection ritual, we can remain on the Surface until our mana reserve runs dry."

"My... disciples..." The One who Waits mumbled, recalling his followers a thousand years ago. "What chaos have they instigated before the Old Faith during my absence?"

"None. They focused on protecting your worshippers and researching means to release you from prison... Unfortunately, the chains that bind you are of familial bonds, is it not?" The Lamb recalled their twin reading those old journals, finding the entries depressing. "There exists accounts of your followers searching a route to enter your prison... Sadly, Shamura has hunted them to prevent the reunion."

"What foolishness," Death lacked the malicious intent in his words. "Unable to live without my presence, my followers chose to walk straight to their end."

"Your last disciple fell a year ago in the land of Anura, devoured by..." The Lamb paused, looking away. They should have noticed the despair in the god's voice, the helplessness to help dedicated servants unable to meet him.

'What to do?' The Lamb has never comforted a god shed some tears before. 'Do we stay still...?'