Transmigrated as the Villain: I Will Destroy Fate

Only after everyone had finished offering their blood did the older woman finally speak her name.

"I am Paula," she said gently, her voice still warm and motherly. "And I am pleased to tell you that our Deity has accepted your offerings."

Sighs of relief rippled through the room.

Several petitioners smiled, others clasped their hands together, and a few even wept quietly. Ronan felt something stir inside him as well – a flicker of artificial happiness. It felt muted, though, easy enough to suppress once he noticed it, but the fact that it existed at all confirmed his suspicion.The ritual was impacting their emotions and thoughts in some way.

Then the scarred man from before came and whispered something into Paula’s ear, and something shifted in her expression. Her eyes lit up.

Paula clasped her hands together, joy radiating from her gentle face as she surveyed the gathered petitioners.

"Excellent. You’ve each offered blood, spoken your wounds. Now we must leave something behind – a piece of yourselves, as it were."

She spoke more hurried this time.

She gestured toward a wicker basket beside her, filled with scraps of cloth.

"Tear a strip from your clothing. Nothing large – just enough to mark your presence. The Deity remembers what is given, so if you have anything more personal to give, that is even better."

Ronan ripped a piece from his sleeve without hesitation. He handed the strip to Paula, who accepted it with that same warm smile.

Aura did the same without hesitating.

Paula collected each offering carefully, placing them into the basin one by one. The fabric absorbed the residual blood from earlier, darkening as it touched the stained stone.

When the last piece was gathered, Paula’s smile widened.

"Now," she said, voice brightening, "we begin the ceremony proper."

She started to draw a circle on the floor with blood from the basin.

Three rings formed the outer boundary, each separated by narrow gaps filled with tiny symbols. The outermost ring consisted of sharp, angular markings that resembled broken demonic script.

He expected nervous murmurs from the new practitioners. New practitioners in cults were usually like that, showing hesitation. Fear.

Instead, the gathered petitioners smiled.

Not small, uncertain smiles.

No.

Wide ones. Genuine ones.

Ronan felt the artificial happiness press against his thoughts again – that warm fog trying to take over his mind. He suppressed it immediately, the sensation fading as soon as he noticed it.

But the others didn’t suppress anything.

They smiled wider.

Paula drew faster now, her hands moving with efficiency and speed. Blood trailed from her fingertips, carving symbols into stone below them. Fifteen minutes passed. The massive ritual circle consumed the floor, intricate beyond anything Ronan had seen outside Academy textbooks.

Then movement came from the entrance.

More people entered.

The ones Ronan had walked past earlier – the cultists scattered throughout the underbelly of Xyta’s streets, gathered in this room now.

They formed a line surrounding the circle without instruction, spacing themselves evenly, and everyone else followed without word.

Soon, all fifty or so people in the room stood encircling the ritual, smiles fixed on their faces.

All except Ronan and Aura, whose expressions remained blank.

Even Maren was smiling.

Paula placed both hands into the basin. Blood dripped down her fingers, thick and slow. Her motherly smile from before seemed sharper now. More manic.

She raised her voice, addressing the room.

"The Blood Deity hears only those who offer themselves completely. Chant after me."

Aura leaned close to Ronan, her whisper barely audible.

"Don’t chant. They won’t notice, I assure you that. They will be too caught up in the ritual"

Ronan didn’t object. He had no desire to participate more than necessary, and if Aura thought they could get away with silence, that was more than enough assurance for him.

Paula began.

Her voice rose in an almost musical cadence.

The words she spoke were unfamiliar, but Ronan felt he could repeat after if he wanted to.

The gathered cultists repeated after her, their voices harmonizing unnaturally, as if an outside force was guiding their pitch and tone into perfect alignment.

The chant continued.

Paula’s hands never left the blood-spilled basin.

Then she stopped.

The room fell silent.

Paula finally gestured behind her. The scarred man from earlier nodded and disappeared briefly before returning with a table.

On the table lay a body.

Covered in cloth. Tied down. Face hidden.

The person moved slightly.

Alive.

Despite that, no one in the circle showed disbelief. No hesitation. No horror.

Just the same smiles.

Paula’s voice rose again, louder now.

"This person has betrayed the Blood Deity. They will be punished by becoming an offering."

Cheers erupted.

Insults followed – shouted curses directed at the covered figure.

Half the room literally just joined today. They had no reason to care about a traitor. But the enthusiasm was genuine, fed by whatever mental manipulation was initiated by this ritual.

The bound figure wriggled harder, muffled sounds escaping from beneath the cloth.

Paula relished the reaction.

Her smile grew as she raised her hands, silencing the room with a single gesture.

"We continue."

She began chanting again.

But this time the words sounded like gibberish.

Yet everyone followed.

Perfectly.

Ronan’s eyes narrowed, and he prepared himself for something to change for the worse.

The ritual was working. Whatever Paula had started was taking hold, and the gathered cultists were too far gone to realize.

Paula completed her chant, then paused dramatically.

"Now," she said, voice dripping with ceremony, "we reveal the sacrifice’s face."

She bent down slowly, savoring the moment.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the cloth covering the bound girl’s head, then peeled it back.

Dirty blonde hair spilled out.

Freckles covered the girl’s entire face. Wide, terrified eyes stared up at the ceiling before darting frantically around the room.

The girl thrashed harder now, trying to scream through the gag tied around her mouth.

Her gaze swept across the circle – desperate and scared – until it landed on one person. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Maren.

The girl’s eyes widened even further. Recognition flashed across her face, followed by something worse.

Betrayal.

She thrashed violently now, muffled screams tearing from her throat as tears streaked down her cheeks.

Ronan glanced sideways.

Maren stood frozen. Her smile was gone, and any signs of brainwashing were gone as well. Her face was drained of all color, expression twisted into shock and horror.

She whispered, barely audible over the girl’s muffled cries.

"Emma...?"