Ratri arrived quietly. No ceremony, no announcement. She stepped through the passage between worlds and entered Lazara's domain without hesitation. The air inside was thick—warm, heavy with the scent of oil, skin, and something unexplainable but undeniably alive.
Lazara was seated on a cushioned platform, half-dressed, her body glistening from recent activity. A girl lay beside her, breathing slowly, eyes shut, mouth open just a little. Around them, more women moved—some naked, some dressed in thin robes, all engaged in something intimate or meditative. The room wasn't loud, but it wasn't silent either. It breathed like a living thing.
Lazara looked up. "I didn't expect you to come so soon."
"I didn't come for you," Ratri replied. Her voice was calm, but not cold. "He sent me."
Lazara nodded, standing up. "Then you're welcome here, no questions asked."
Ratri's eyes moved around the space. She said nothing more. She simply walked forward and sat down on one of the stone ledges along the wall, arms crossed lightly. She didn't stare at anyone. She wasn't uncomfortable—but she was distant. Watching.
"You don't need to take part," Lazara said, walking over to her slowly. "No one will touch you. That's not what this place is about. You just being here changes something."
"I'm not here to stop anything," Ratri replied. "Do what you're doing. I'll be here."
That was how it started.
Ratri didn't speak much in the days that followed. But she never left. She sat through the rituals—some simple, some intense. She watched as Lazara and her growing group of priestesses welcomed new followers, taught them how to surrender without shame, and guided them through acts that turned physical pleasure into a kind of focused faith.
The system had started unlocking more priestesses from beyond Earth. Some weren't human at all. One came with silver skin and dark blue eyes that didn't blink. Another had red tattoos glowing faintly beneath her chest. Each one had her own way of bringing people in—sometimes through touch, sometimes through voice, sometimes just through presence.
Lazara had grown stronger. Her aura was sharper now. She didn't need to speak much to control a room. Every priestess knew what she expected. Every follower who walked in—man or woman—knew what they had come for. And most didn't leave the same.
But even as sex became the core of this expansion, Ratri never crossed that line.
Lazara noticed.
One night, after the last of the initiates had finished, Lazara sat beside Ratri on the edge of the main platform. They were alone for once. Everyone else had fallen asleep or wandered into private chambers.
"You've seen everything now," Lazara said, her voice quieter than usual. "Still no interest in joining?"
Ratri looked straight ahead. "I'm not here for pleasure. I'm not here to be praised. I'm not even here to judge. I'm here to make sure this doesn't lose control."
"We're not losing control."
"Not yet."
There was no anger in her tone, just a quiet kind of certainty.
"I've never forced anyone," Lazara said. "Not them, not you."
"I know."
Lazara leaned back on her arms. "So what are you, exactly?"
Ratri paused before answering. "I'm a boundary. That's all."
Lazara didn't argue.
Even the other priestesses started treating Ratri differently. They didn't try to involve her. They bowed slightly when passing her. Some of them asked for her opinion before adjusting their rituals. Ratri didn't give commands, but her presence made people careful—more focused.
The truth was, her virginity wasn't just a choice. It was part of her role. Her stillness had become a kind of anchor, balancing the intensity around her. Followers started whispering stories that just being in a room with her calmed their thoughts, slowed their desires. Some said she showed up in their dreams when they were overwhelmed, and just stood there, silent, until they could breathe again.
Meanwhile, the other priestesses were evolving.
New ones arrived each week—each with different methods. One, named Irra, could sense exactly what someone craved emotionally and use that to build a path to worship. Another, Taleen, had a strange gift—she could make others relive their most intimate memory by touching their chest. It made people open up faster than hours of speech ever could.
All of them began to spread Lazara's influence. Not on Earth directly—yet—but in the spaces between. Small pocket realms, hidden corners of abandoned spiritual paths, forgotten altars. They built temples of the body and temples of the mind.
Every act they performed—every climax, every surrender, every vow made during shared breath—strengthened the link to the system. And Rudra, though he never appeared, was at the center of all of it. The worship was his. The belief that grew was focused on a god no one had ever seen—but they all felt.
One of the older priestesses, a quiet one named Neliya, came to Ratri privately. She'd been here the longest after Lazara.
"Is it hard?" she asked.
"What?"
"Being so close to it all. Watching it happen. Feeling the pull. But still staying away?"
"No," Ratri said honestly. "Not hard. Just… constant."
Neliya nodded. "Do you think you'll ever change your mind?"
Ratri didn't answer right away. "Only he can change that."
That night, a small group of followers were allowed to touch Ratri's feet during meditation. She didn't move, didn't acknowledge them, but their breathing changed. Two of them cried. One fainted.
And after, even Lazara admitted quietly to herself: Ratri didn't need to have sex to gather worship. Her restraint itself had become its own kind of power.
In the higher layers of the system, Rudra watched.
He didn't smile. He didn't comment. But he saw it clearly—Lazara was growing the emotional and physical roots of faith. Ratri had become a pillar of discipline and silent strength. And the priestesses who were joining now… they weren't just beautiful. They were becoming tools. Instruments for building something much bigger.
And soon, that something would no longer stay in the background.
But as the spiritual side of this new religion expanded, something else had begun elsewhere.
Kaalkrit was moving through the Demon World, preparing for something much different.
Rudra had already given him instructions.
Not to inspire. Not to seduce.
But to dominate.