A week later…

The eerie gurgling sounds of the ritual horns dominated the temple’s halls, as more than a hundred attendees knelt on the prayer carpet, their hands clasped to their chest while the Shaman led the prayer service.

“The myriad of religions around the world today are not at odds with one another.” His low, droning voice carried the message of the sermon through the newly purchased speaker system. “People, kingdoms, and nations slaughter each other in the name of their holy scriptures, their beliefs. Yet they are all facets of the same gods – messages for a different era, for a different culture.”

The temple was doing better than ever before, the success of the parade injecting life and vitality into the place. The staff members all had pay increases, alongside the orphanage obtaining far better equipment for the children. Angelina was already planning to have renovation done within the temple, potentially adding even more living quarters outdoors for the staff to live for free.

“The Akama temple welcomes all those who seek a home, all who are lost in our modern apathetic society. I invite all of you to remain behind after the service, to connect with one another, and to form lasting relationships. We are your support network, as long you wish for it to be.” The Shaman concluded his sermon, with the horns increasing in intensity as the attendees were prompted to perform their final prayer towards the statues of the gods.

Religious undertones of music were soon replaced by the din of the attendees talking to and catching up with one another, their voices merging into a cacophony while they dispersed. Many soon began to leave the temple, but not before they were stopped voluntarily by a pre-prepared table, where a masked temple staff in ceremonial robes was sat, dozens of small necklaces, bracelets and rings made out of plastic laid out on display.

Some of the attendees were immediately irked. “I think the temple is trying too hard to monetize this event now. Why do I feel like I am being fleeced? These necklaces don’t even look good!”

It was true – the products seemed like it was barebones. There were no intricate engravings, or unique designs purposes. For what it was worth, it felt like a necklace someone could find at the thrift store for a mere dema.

The masked temple staff member did not reply, sitting silently. A few attendees scoffed at the poor quality and walked past, but one of them stopped, an elderly lady who peered over the table. “This logo… I remember this from the early days. This is a symbol representing stubbornness. How much for one?”

The staff member merely held out a hand. Some of the onlookers were flabbergasted by the price.

“Is the temple serious right now? Five demas for that? At least put some damn effort into it instead of selling mass-produced junk! For all we know, those necklaces were made in Hosei – gross!”

“I’ll take one.” The elderly lady was undeterred, pointing to a necklace on the table. The onlookers could only watch as the elderly lady was fleeced in real time, some even wanting to immediately complain to the Shaman.

Before she could hand over the money, the masked temple staff member took the necklace from the table, placing it on his open palm face up, before muttering an incoherent incantation. Within a few seconds, the necklace began to emit a bright light, enough to attract the attention of most who were leaving.

Every complaint that the onlookers had vanished in a single instant, all of them enthralled in place as they watch the elderly lady smile, putting on the necklace. The glow of the necklace had already subsided, but it was enough to spark yet another heated discussion.

“What the…? Did you see that?”

“I did, I did. By the gods, it’s a blessed necklace! They are selling blessed necklaces!”

A queue immediately formed, with even some of the other attendees running back after hearing about it. Everyone was awed and gasped at the light each time it happened, some of the more cynical ones buying it so they could break it apart or try to activate the light itself. One even snapped the necklace on the spot, trying to find out where were the hidden electronics within.

Yet there were none to be found, which only served to increase the authenticity of the blessed necklace and the crazy queue that had now formed. Many bought more than one, hoping to get the entire set. Within two hours, nearly everything on the table had been sold out, the collection box now filled to the brim with hundreds of five dema notes.

[+120 Faith Received]

The blueprint designer had worked like a charm, and Sel was already salivating at the returns that he would get.

[Item: Miniature Icon Necklace (F) – Emits a glow when activated through transfer of Faith. Can remotely collect and transmit up to 2 Faith a week. Activation Cost: 1 Faith. Creation Cost: 2 Faith]

I wouldn’t get my investment back until 2 weeks later, but I get five demas for each one out of it. Combined with the replica statue in the temple, I can now accumulate way more Faith, and keep the loop going!

He walked up to the statues of the gods, the centerpiece now being the Shop Item that he had purchased.

[Item: Idol Totem (F) – A customizable totem. Can accumulate and store up to 1000 Faith from worship and offerings. Requires physical touch from User to transfer the stored balance of Faith. Cost: 200 Faith/600 Trust.]

With a slight touch, he could retrieve the accumulated Faith over the last seven days.

[+400 Faith Received]

Sel grinned under the mask, but soon, his attention was diverted by the sound of argument, the Shaman seemingly confronting a young, tattooed man who had just bought a necklace from him. Sel found him weirdly familiar.

“Hey, what’s the big deal? I thought this temple was open to anyone, no questions policy.”

“Do not try to divert the topic, young man.” The Shaman’s face was stern. “The fact of the matter is that I have personally witnessed you hand over this packet to this poor girl!” He motioned to a girl being taken care of by Angelina.

“What? I was just holding onto it for her. It’s originally hers! What’s your problem, man?”

“How dare you lie in the temple of the gods? You were selling it to her! This temple is not your drug distribution center!” The Shaman rebuked him.

The young gangster scoffed. “Why are you painting me like the evil one here, huh? You know how many times she shoots this shit into her arms? She’s the one begging for it from me!”

“And you’re the one letting her spiral even more into addiction! Do not try to relinquish yourself of responsibility!”

“F-U-C-K FUCK! OFF! OLD MAN! What do you know about me, huh?”

“I do not know a thing, but I do know that if you do not leave in the next three minutes, I will call the police!”

“So that’s how you want to play it. Okay. Fine. Have it your way.” The young gangster leaned over, glaring into the Shaman’s eyes. “But you’re going to fucking regret it. And regret it very soon.”

As soon as he turned around, he nearly bumped into Sel, the ghastly ceremonial mask, staring right at him. “What the? Yea? What do you want? Wanna have a go?”

The young gangster suddenly found himself lifted up without warning, before being tossed down the stairs of the temple’s entrance unceremoniously in a rough tumble, the sharp edges of the concrete steps grazing his skin. “Urgh!”

As he scampered off, the Shaman sighed in exhaustion, his knees buckling slight before Sel caught him by the arm and supported him. “Sit down, Shaman Peris.”

“… thank you, Sel. But I would like to return to my office first. Could you help me there?”

“Of course.”

The two took tiny steps towards the office, the Shaman’s heart exhausted. Sel’s heart clenched at the sight of his father figure getting older and older, something he never had the chance to see before. He recalled how the Shaman used to be invigorated, the life of the party.

“I’ll be fine after some rest.” Shaman Peris sighed as he rested in a comfortable chair, his eyes closed as he focused on his breathing. “But hold on. Don’t go yet. I need to talk to you.”

“I can talk later, I’ll need to pack up the table and collect the demas-“

“No, Sel. I need to talk to you now. Have a seat.”

Sel can’t recall the last time the Shaman was stern with him, an unknown pressure suddenly weighing on his shoulders. He sat down opposite the office desk, unsure of what was about to happen.

“I… I understand your home situation. Your financial situation. If you need financial assistance, I am more than willing to give it to you. Just say the word.”

“I’m doing fine, Shaman. Everything is going great!” Sel smiled.

“Do not…!” Shaman Peris caught his breath, panting slightly. “Do not lie in the house of the gods. And not to a representative of the gods. You are a chosen one – one who the gods reveal their miracles through! Not some thrift store dealer looking to make a quick buck!”

“Is this about the necklaces?”

“Not just them… it’s about everything that you have been doing so far. I can see it in your eyes, your laser focus on getting more money. And I understand. I completely understand – abundance is far better than scarcity.”

“Do you, though?” Sel couldn’t help blurting out, his smile disappearing. “Have you been held hostage by family relatives who thrive off your poverty and misery?”

“Sel…I…”

“Have you been forced to not go to university, because the mother who raised you single-handedly for years on end has now even forgotten the color of your eyes? Have you been rejected countless times, everyone treating me lower than dirt?!” Sel’s voice was raised, his suppressed anger bubbling to the surface before he calmed himself down. “… sorry, Shaman.”

“It’s okay, son. It’s okay to be angry. To be frustrated. These are the trials of our life, on a journey to paradise.”

“But why can’t I have paradise now? Why must I wait? Why must I suffer continuously, on and on and on? Because it builds ‘character’?” Sel was too agitated, fuming.

An awkward silence fell between the two of them, Shaman Peris calmly waiting for Sel to cool off.

“So… is that all?” Sel didn’t want to sit any longer, but the Shaman held out his hand, stopping him.

“I know you have been spending more and more time at Mason’s gym.”

“… so? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I know… I hope so… but still, they are bad influences. You know better, you’ve seen what they’ve done to your aunt.”

“She’s a grown adult, she can decide for herself. And I’m a grown adult now, too!”

“Is that you talking? Or is it Mason talking?”

“What’s wrong with Mason? Sure, he looks like a gangster, but he’s a good guy at heart. He even donated to the temple. Better than all the damn managers either ignoring me or lowballing me, even after all the temple has helped them in the past. At least he’s giving me a viable path.”

“One month ago, you would not have defended him like this.”

“Well, I guess I grew up.”

Shaman Peris let out an exasperated sigh.  “Sel, greed is a terrible slippery slope. What profit does a man make if he owns the entire world, but loses his soul?”

“It’s not greed, Shaman. It’s necessity.” Sel did not have the patience any longer, leaving the office.

The shaman could only watch the door closing behind Sel in silence, contemplating. He clasped his own hands together, head bowed in prayer. “Oh gods above, I pray that you will protect Sel from harm. Please protect Sel from harm…”

----------

Mason’s gym was crowded during the day; the unemployed guys who have nowhere left to go all training here, trying to gain strength and respect. Here was the breeding ground for new recruits into Mason’s gang, a hotspot of gang activity.

“What the fuck is that gaudy necklace? And who the hell beat you up?” A burly giant decked out in gym attire grabbed the young gangster by the collar, the same man who was thrown down the steps by Sel.

The young gangster was frightened “Chira, I…”

“Weren’t you just supposed to distribute some of the packets? Who hit you? The Kongsi?”

“It… it was the temple!”

Chira was flabbergasted, putting down the young gangster. “The temple? How in the world would they be able to beat you up? All they have there is an old dude and some kids!”

“I… There’s a few strong guys in there, they beat me up without a word!”

“Fucking… that Akama Temple! One parade, and they are walking around, acting like they are the cock of the town. I’ll fucking teach them a lesson! Come on, boys!” Chira motioned with his arms, nearly a quarter of the gym forming up behind him, grabbing their weapons.

“Chira, what are you doing? You can’t launch a raid without Mason’s word!” Another gangster interjected.

Without a word, Chira grabbed his face, slamming it against the cold white metal of the gym equipment, blood immediately staining.  “Anyone else still want to question me? I’m the underboss, for crying out loud! If Mason isn’t around, I’M IN CHARGE HERE! NOW FORM UP!”

Just as Chira reached the exit, the door was swung open wildly, a hand immediately grabbing his neck and attempting to choke him out.

“No one is going anywhere. Not without my permission.” Mason grunted, releasing Chira with a shove and staring down the rest of the members.

While Chira rubbed his sore neck, he noticed Sel trailing Mason from behind, as the two of them walked towards their office. “What the hell is that temple boy still doing here?” He strained his voice.

“From now on, the Akama Temple is off limits to us. No more dealing, no more trading there. Hurting the temple would only cause us to lose the ambivalence and respect of the local population, you understand? We have to stay low!”

“They beat up our guy!” Chira countered, getting up to his full height and matching Mason. “What kind of respect do we have left if we’re going to let this shit happen? What’s next? Some office worker spits on us and we can’t even retaliate? Might as well be decorations! We didn’t sign up to be fucking timid dogs!”

A few murmurs of agreement spread through the gang members, Mason’s eyes darting around. “Don’t you all understand? We’re products of gang retaliation! Rivalry which destroyed our homes and families. We cannot perpetrate the cycle ourselves! And from what I heard, he wasn’t even beaten up – he fell down a flight of stairs!”

Chira glanced back to the young gangster, who shook his head in denial vigorously. With a grunt, Chira went back on the offensive again, defending his follower. “So what? The older generation gets away scott-free, able to exploit everything they want while I don’t get my time in the sun, to have the pride and respect we deserve in this small city?! We want our time in the sun, not scampering around like rats hiding from the law!”

“I don’t care what any of you say nor think – I have the final word HERE!” Mason bellowed, glaring down at everyone else. “If any of you even so much as lay a touch on the Akama Temple, I will kill you personally. And it won’t be slow. Got it? Now put your fucking gear away!”

Most of the gang members complied, save for a few members that rallied behind Chira. A staring match erupted between Chira and Mason, the tension building in the atmosphere before Chira finally relented, dropping off his weapons in a nearby rack but not before throwing Mason a withering glare.

The moment Mason disappeared into the office with Sel, Chira let out a string of curses. “That fucking Mason is getting weaker, especially ever since that kid came into the picture!”

His sycophants agreed with him, the young gangster among them. “Yea, back in the good old days, Mason used to be a monster! Now he’s just some scaredy cat, too afraid to go toe to toe with the police.”

“I don’t know how long I can take this, living like a sewer rat… FUCK!” Chira slammed his fist on a pillar. He glared at the young gangster. “You! Don’t you fucking lie to me: are these wounds from falling, or from getting beaten up?”

“Both! Both! I was thrown out of the temple physically by one of the staff ONTO the stairs!”

“Fucking shit… you’re a disgrace! What the fuck is your punk ass still doing here? Don’t you got more packets to distribute? FUCKING MOVE! And that gaudy temple necklace better be fucking gone before you come back!”

“But it’s a blessed necklace, it was glowing and shit when they gave it. Look! “ The young gangster grabbed the necklace, trying to activate it but to no avail.

“Are you fucking defending the temple right now?”

“… Sorry, Chira. I’ll get rid of it.”

“Good. Now, don’t come back until you sold all of it, we clear? Or you’ll regret it.”

The young gangster sighed, heading to the exit while the others mocked him secretly from behind. However, Chira grabbed one of them, shaking him violently. “Weak or not, he’s still one of ours! And we protect our own from ANY form of disrespect. And if you continue to mock him, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it for a long time. Clear?!”

A sense of pride and belonging welled up in the young gangster as he got into his car, driving off to the next meeting point. “Yea, fuck this necklace! I don’t need any god’s blessing! Chira got my back.” He ripped the necklace’s chain off his neck, tossing it out through the driver’s window onto the open road.

As the necklace rolled down the road towards the side of a pavement, a white-gloved hand picked it up, scrutinizing it as though it was a priceless artifact, flipping it over gently on his palm. The necklace suddenly began to glow, though not as bright as before, before suddenly fizzling out and breaking apart into pieces.

The broken pieces were then carefully placed into a transparent ziplock bag, while the same gloved hand took out a phone.

“Sir? The videos are true. We got one.”