Chapter 89: Homegrown cult

“Finally… done!” I say in success. Looking into my full storage system. It took over a week to get all that into my ME system. Sadly, procrastination delayed me. My one weakness is boredom.

While I was at it, I ran pipes through my underground cavern. A single chest stands inside the ME room, all my automatic materials piped into it. For two reasons, one, it’s convenient to manually deposit it. Two, upon figuring out how import and export buses work, it will be easy to pump everything into my ME system.

Appreciating the forthinking for a moment. Internally wincing at the ugly pipes inside my island. Maybe I could decorate them somehow? Falling for my own trap, I begin decorating them. Most getting a simple wooden covering. Where the pipes converge on the chest is decorated by an upsidedown wooden room.

This room is made of a large variety of woods in intricate decorations. Most people are unlikely to see it, but I appreciate it. Sometimes a bit of decoration really improves your mood. Like coming home to a made bed or steaming hot dinner; small things make one's life better.

Some think money, time, and several other large factors make a good life. They help, but what truly makes life is small good things culminating into a happy whole. Some will disagree, but it’s what I've figured out for me personally. So, I make my bed, make dinners, change my sheets.

I mentally say while comfortably sitting on a cushioned chair. Hearing an audible ‘poof’ as I lean on a large fluffy pillow.

What mod should I play with now? As much as entering the end is… tempting. I feel I’m not quite ready yet. I can correspond with Flor to get access to the portal when I want.

“You're going to the end!” I hear from behind me suddenly. Feeling my heart enter my stomach as I stumble off my chair. Turning to see the smiling blond demon, damn it.

“No, I'm not ready yet,” I say pleadingly.

He looks over my down his nose ever so slightly. Scoffing at the reply, “I know… fine, but you're getting a quest.”

Wiping sweat from my brow, “Okay, what are you thinking?”

“Since you don’t like a good old dragon hunt, let's increase the difficulty a little.” Feeling the sweat I just wiped return, blood draining from my face.

“You… don’t… ha… have to.” My voice coming out a stuttered whisper.

“Start… a cult!” He says with dramatic flair.

Stumbling slightly, “What? Start a cult? About what?” So many questions. Shaking my leg slightly. Lowering my gaze slightly, a necklace is around his neck. A golden necklace with a glowing orb, silver chains wrapped around.

“About ‘dun, dun, dun’ me! Have fun, see you soon.” And with that, he disappears.

Returning to my chair limply. The energy of the day drained from me like I've sprung a leak. “How the nether am I going to start a cult?” Great, they got me saying Nether instead of hell now. This is going to be a tough quest for me. Right on cue, I hear the light ‘ding’ signifying a quest. Followed by a mechanical voice, “Quest accepted; start a cult. Reward, red, brown, rainbow, and unstable ant eggs.” That’s a very good reward right there. I suppose a hard quest deserves an equal reward. At least I’m not getting thrashed by a dragon.

So, like I've got to think of a whole story for Felix. Rituals and other stuff as well. Is there much of a difference between religion and a cult? Suppose that has a differing answer depending on which side you ask.

Well, I'm going to need some more invisibility potions if I’m doing this. Maybe phantom ink would help, I could use my wyvern armor without risk.

Watching my brewing stands bubble away with my potions. Let’s prepare some phantom ink, a simple recipe of glass, dye, and a mana pearl. 4 bottles of a crystal-clear paste pop out of my crafting table. Opening one and smelling it was a poor idea. Like sniffing glue is gave me a headache from its pungent static-like smell. Smells like blue, if blue was a smell.

Taking my wyvern armor, I smear the paste onto it. And I wait, and wait some more… why isn’t it working? Checking the NEI, right at the bottom in small writing. “Can be applied to mana-using armor.” Well… that’s a bust. Should of read it, id be terrible reading a contract. No, in fact, I am terrible at reading contracts. Having been fired for a bullshit reason allowed by my contract.

Let’s see if any other phantom ink varieties exist… “sweet, found one.” Combing a unique combination of camouflage paste and random liquids I own I now have brown sludge inside a glass. Pouring it over my armor, I watch in amazement as it disappears. Wiping where I poured it makes the armor rematerialize. While using it I’ve got to avoid rain, that’s for sure.

Donning the now invisible armor I notice a clear issue. I’m in my underwear – oops. Gathering my supply of fabrics and dyes. I craft a soft black cloak with a deep hood and a thin scale-like armor covering over it. The inside holds a bunch of pockets but for obvious reasons, I won't be able to use it.

Next, I head to town. Asking around leads me quickly to a tailor. Finding the black and white building among the hues of brown and grey easily. Mannequins decorating the front window. Showing the best, they can offer. Appreciating the quality of the suit displayed. A red bowtie with a black overcoat, white undershirt, and black pants; tied together with a brown snakeskin belt.

Walking into the wonderfully smelling building. A combination of fragrant fabrics and a hint of leather. Finding an eloquently dressed man working on some fabric. A smart black suit covers his body. A large silver mustache and gote on his face along with some small golden glasses. His hair long and in a bun, a singular wooden spike through it. A look of pure concentration as he cuts fabric to precise measurements. I watch him for a while, longer than I should have. Something about his work ethic is enrapturing.

Eventually, I snap out of my trance-like state to address the man. “Hello sir, may I enquire as to if I can get some clothes prepared?” Maintaining a polite and eloquent voice for the clearly noble-oriented business.

Looking up, he scrutinized me for mere moments. Donning a neutral pacify face to address me. “Yes, what clothes would you like? Keep in mind price and time for production varies due to materials and complexity.”

Nodding politely. “I would like 2 suits, one more casual and comfortable with hues of purple. The other a red and black suit for more formal situations. Aside from that, I require some casual wear; jeans, shirts and general clothes like that. The final item I want is a black cloak to cover myself effectively.”

He writes everything down with extreme deftness while I speak. He pushes his glasses up slightly. “A large order, for such we will require a prepayment.” He shows me a board with the costs for the individual items. Paying the man in cold hard cash he walks me towards a back room. “Remove your armor, Sir.”

Removing my armor with speed and agility. Placing it down on the floor with care. He looks over me, “Well that will throw a rock in the machine. I will have to account for your unique body; allow me to recalculate.”

Paying him the additional funds with a slight glare. He continues, taking careful measurements of every single part of my body. Taking extra care around my wings, asking me to extend them several times. His worth ethic is far more enjoyable to watch than to experience.

When the ordeal is finally over, he tells me to return in a week for the first batch of clothes. Leaving the store in a weird mood, “I could use some food.”

Walking down the unfamiliar paths hosting the tailors. Finding an interesting street vendor selling a savory potato product. A pastry with a potato as its base. Filled with cheese and chives; a good choice. As much as they were pricey, they were tasty. Not the best thing in the world but I enjoyed it thoroughly. My mood improved with a new variety of food I go for a flight.

Taking to the skies, flying without care. Feeling the wind push on my armor as I rise into the sky. Going through clouds rapidly, playing with them like a large fog. Smiling like a giddy child as the wispy smoke flows through my fingers. The water clinging to my armor stubbornly. It's nice sometimes to let loose now and then. Flying higher until I reach more solid clouds.

Finding a large one to fall onto before comfortably resting on my back. Looking up at the blue sky. Eventually, I fall into a light slumber as the sun's rays bounce off my armor.

Awaking to the view of the ground, I suppress the sudden anxiety. I forgot clouds are seethrough and I can fly. Quickly realizing I’m also thoroughly immune to fall damage and planes aren’t a common thing here.

Enjoying the birdseye view of the local terrain. The bustling town with barely viewable movement, the vast fields of farms, and the odd small forest. Occasionally spotting a daring bird who thinks me being here means they can easily fly to such a height. Few get very high at all surprisingly. I must be really high up if birds are struggling. If I had access to oxygen I could fly into space. That would be an interesting activity for sure.

Slowly rolling to the side, eventually falling off the incredibly soft cloud. Gliding through the air with rapid speed. Hearing the air as it rushes past my helmet with incredible speeds. It's great fun sky diving, although you're not supposed to have armor on.

Removing my helmet to feel the wind rush through my hair. Watching in amusment as my crimson hair flys upwards like feathers tied to a rock. In my last life, I had much shorter hair. Taking care of my long hair here has been a unique experience. Having to comb it and clean it very often. Thankfully, having a hairdressing experience paved the way for me to keep this glorious hair. Like it was made perfect, it has rich shades of red with smooth long lines of hair. Unfortunately, every other hair on my body is red too…

Finally reaching the ground with a soft ‘thump.’ Rather underwhelming, but hey I have wings so what's a little freefall.

Feeling the claws of hunger slowly making itself known. Removing my helmet, I begin to consume some fruits to sate my bottomless pit of a stomach. Not eating a lot at once but over a day I can put away a lot of food. Great at buffets that you can stay at for ages.

Something I noticed with clone bodies is, it creates a body based on the genetic template and does not include environmental impacts. So, my canines are still razor-sharp, annoyingly. I realized this as for the third time in a month I've sliced my tongue on the weapons. Other things too like a lack of Callas on my skin; this body having already formed some Callas. Making it a little easier to move around.

Swallowing the drop of blood from my wounded tongue before beginning to eat some strawberries. Finding the color a little poetic given the wound I made on myself.

Now, how might one start a cult/religion? I suppose telling people is the first step. Let's not use my local town and instead go to a less visited town. One I have visited often, a common town focusing on farming and mining. Healthy if a little boring; the perfect candidate.