(No harem, no System, no power fantasy, just a story in its purest, most authentic form)
On the high altar stood a golden Buddha with a kind, compassionate face. The incense burning on the altar was made from human fat, and the incense sticks in the burner before him were made from human heads. The yellow paper filling the sky was human skin, and the worshippers kneeling on the ground with devout expressions had long since been hollowed out.
The thing you’re worshipping isn’t a Buddha...
(A fictional world, not intended to promote superstition. Inspired by all kinds of sources, with no hidden allusions. It’s just a story.)
