When he reinspected the Faulch Prayer Hall a few moments later, he found that the number of worshippers had indeed jumped from zero to 126. Most of Cutthroat Island's natives were apparently quite devout.
Some villagers had paid their respects to Kinah and Elsisn, but their worshipper numbers had not increased. It would likely take a bit more than a perfunctory bow to be acknowledged as a believer by the Stele. Their piety had to come from the heart.
'This is going to be harder than I thought.' Ikaris frowned.
He was basically a man of science, not a man of faith. While he had no trouble accepting that all these Saints were real, he was not the type to worship anyone, much less promote them. Converting and convincing the faithless was the job of a missionary or a priest.
'I need to recruit a priest for the Elsisn Temple anyway, so I might as well seek the solution from there.'
The teenager was skeptical of getting a priest through the daily summoning. Even if a priest appeared, it would probably be the representative of some religion from his home world.
Unless this god could provide him with tangible benefits, he would never let these religious men preach freely, stealing worshipers from his temples that could actually provide him with genuine blessings.
'In that case, there is probably only one solution...' Ikaris decided gloomily.
He had to head to Tartarus Shade to recruit someone. It was good timing, he was still looking for a tattoo artist and with the 100kg of gold ore earned from the Hellhound Pack's surrender his pockets were much fuller.
'The start of the school year for Tartarus Shade academies is in 5 days... Developing places of worship is important but not urgent. On top of that, it will take time to convert all that gold ore into hard cash. So I might as well do it all at once in 5 days. It will save me a trip...'
That was his true motive. A round trip to Tartarus Shade would cost him two gold coins and that was two gold coins too many.
Looking up at the sky, Ikaris noticed that the sun was already well down and decided to take care of it all tomorrow. With time to spare before dark, he gave Nardor full power to get the volunteer villagers to help him finish the palisade, and then he moved into his new quarters.
Before doing so, he didn't forget to test the Duplication feature. He chose an unoccupied plot of land and selected the basic building "Cottage" from the list. Like in a video game, a mental image of the building was displayed in front of him and he was able to choose its orientation as he wished. Once sure, he validated his choice and the thatched cottage appeared magically in front of him as if it had been literally teleported here.
"I can understand why the people of the Forsakens Lands revere these Saints as gods." He sighed with a conflicted expression. "What a humble Stele can accomplish would certainly be called a miracle on my old planet."
"It's nothing." Magnus snorted. "A good Creation Sorcerer can do the same. Just remember, it's not free."
"Right..."
Indeed, a few seconds later he heard Nardor's angry shout.
"Where the hell are the wooden stakes I had placed here?!"
Ikaris had to intervene and explain the situation to him for the incensed dwarf to finally calm down. Once he understood that the thief of all this wood was none other than his Lord, he stopped feeling guilty and became cheerful again.
"But now, my Lord, we don't have enough wood to continue the palisade." He suddenly realized. Those trunks were all the wood they had left.
"That's okay." Ikaris smiled reassuringly. "Now that we have enough manpower, we should be able to finish it tomorrow."
As an apology, he let Nardor move into the thatched cottage he had just created, but the dwarf flatly refused.
"Ladies first. Danchun deserves to sleep under a roof after what she went through last night. Besides, this cottage has no door... I hate drafts.
Ikaris was stunned when he heard his point. This cottage didn't have a door either! Realizing the existence of this flaw, the appeal of this thatched cottage drastically diminished. At least a tent could be closed. Sometimes privacy was more important than comfort or spaciousness.
There was one practical advantage, though. The runes he had painstakingly carved with his own sweat the first night were already inscribed on the walls. Danchun could move in directly.
"Fine, I'll inform her." The teenager consented without dwelling on it.
He was planning to lock himself in his room for good when an idea suddenly occurred to him. Since Nardor was free, he could give him another task.
Ikaris asked him to wait and returned a few seconds later with a gold coin from Tartarus Shade. The coin was 2.5 centimeters in diameter and 1 millimeter thick. Faulch's emaciated, hooded face was crudely engraved on one side, while a familiar citadel was engraved on the other. Held at fingertips it weighed in.
"This is..." The dwarf's brown eyes twinkled with excitement at the coin.
"The Warring Lands standard currency." Ikaris explained concisely. "I know that blacksmithing is not necessarily about minting coins, but I wanted to know if you would be able to replicate them with the gold ore we brought back today."
Instead of answering him, Nardor took the coin from his hands and closed his eyes in concentration. The boy didn't feel anything, but he figured he must be using his Metal Affinity. A moment later, the dwarf opened his eyes again and handed the coin back to him.
"No problem, but I'm going to need a day to make the mold and right now we don't have a blacksmith workshop." Nardor replied with an awkward face.
A rudimentary forge required only a furnace providing high heat, possibly a bellows, something to cool the heated metal, and an anvil to work it on. Of course, it also required some tools.
"Okay, we'll figure out something about the forge." Ikaris nodded. Making an archaic furnace wasn't very complicated.
"Cough... I also need to keep the coin for the mold." The dwarf cleared his throat sheepishly.
"Sure..."
Ikaris then left the dwarf to his own devices and after informing Danchun of the good news and making sure everyone had their own tent he finally visited his room. Compared to the tent he had slept in the last three nights it was practically a five star hotel.
'So comfortable...' He almost let out a moan of pleasure as he sprawled on the soft mattress.
In reality, the bed was almost as hard as a futon, but compared to sleeping on a furry floor it was fantastic. But soon his relaxed face became distressed and he stood up covered in sweat.
Removing his shirt and using the blade of his sword as a mirror he saw that the gashes across his back had an alarming purplish color and his skin was writhing as if there were living insects swarming inside. Taking a deep breath, he locked the door and with a resolute countenance brought out Magnus' jewelry box.
Ikaris joylessly opened it and pulled out a snow-white fang as smooth and sparkling as a polished diamond.
"Sigh... Who could have guessed that you would become a Werewolf before you became a Vampire." Magnus whined in a disappointed and slightly resentful tone.
"No choice. I can already feel the fever coming." The teen retorted laconically.
It was the truth. His two bloodlines were already clashing with Liam's venom. Despite his great Vitality he could feel his body weakening and the pain rising. If he didn't become a werewolf even if the transformation failed he would be bedridden for the next few weeks.
Familiar with the procedure, he wasted no time and after sitting comfortably with the fang in his hand he muttered,
"Assimilation."
A filament of moonlight leaked from the Bloodspark and silently seeped into his body, coursing through his veins. Although he had expected it, his Stamina was sapped in a heartbeat and his pain-ridden body suddenly began to convulse.
As with his evolution into a Nephilim, he blacked out a few seconds later. It was a phenomenon that seemed to recur when the body accepted a new Bloodline. It was a fundamental mutation reshaping his DNA and every cell in his body, and his brain instinctively knew that he needed to rest to successfully evolve as a lifeform.
While he was unconscious, his veins swelled and throbbed uncannily beneath the surface of his skin, a vivid silvery glow constantly radiating from them. From the pores of his skin, a foul-smelling liquid oozed out, staining his sheets and he lost several liters of sweat in a few moments.
Soon after, his veins stopped glowing and he stopped seizing up. His breathing calmed down and he finally opened his eyes.
He could feel it. He was less and less human.