Over the following days, Chaplain Apollus visited Brother Reid daily, just as he had promised. His timing was always impeccable; he was present for nearly every "bloodletting ritual" perford by the Helldivers.
He would stand silently to the side, observing the process of Brother Reid consuming the blood and the sacrificial posture of the Helldivers. He offered no comntary, only occasionally asking Brother Reid questions regarding his internal state—answers that were increasingly trending toward stability.
After several days of observation, Chaplain Apollus developed a profound interest in this peculiar rite. He understood the complexity of the Curse; any thod capable of alleviating its symptoms was worth investigating.
Thus, following the conclusion of one ritual, he suddenly spoke: "Brother Reid, I see that this ceremony seems to assist your condition. I wish to try it as well; perhaps I can find so common ground within it."
He turned his gaze toward the Helldivers. "I, too, wish to drink a cup of the blood you offer."
Brother Reid naturally agreed. He saw no issue with it; after all, his fellow Chaplain was also a Flesh Tearer and required blood to stabilize himself. He nodded, signaling the Helldivers to comply.
However, the Helldivers did not respond imdiately. They looked at one another, their eyes betrayed by a hint of hesitation and doubt. A brief silence hung in the air.
Brother Reid frowned with dissatisfaction. He looked at the mortals, his voice carrying a trace of confusion: "My brother Chaplain is a warrior far more powerful than I, and he is a Flesh Tearer as well! Why do you hesitate? Did you not say before that it didn't matter how we drank? Drink as you please, consu as you wish—was that not the case?"
Internally, the Helldivers were grumbling. Previously, they hadn't realized that donating blood granted rit Points; they had only thought of farming favorability, which was why they had spoken so generously. Now that they knew there were points on the line, they certainly didn't want to give it away for free!
The Squad Leader had a sudden flash of inspiration. He knew they couldn't refuse outright, but they couldn't let these rit Points slip away either. He imdiately stepped forward and said respectfully: "Sir, it's not that we are unwilling, but—this isn't how the blood should be offered! You must first, in your capacity as an officer, explicitly demand that we offer our blood to you. That is the most vital first step!"
He paused, cleared his throat, and continued to fabricate a process that sounded impressively solemn: "Then, at the ninth Terran hour of every standard Terran day, under the dim light of candles, we shall slit our wrists one by one, mixing our blood into a chalice. Only then do we present the cup to you for consumption. That is how a blood offering should be done!"
The Squad Leader spoke with total deadpan sincerity, as if this were an ancient rite passed down through the ages. Despite the lengthy process, the most important part for the Helldivers was the opening move: [Demanding an offering in the capacity of an officer]. Including such a step almost guaranteed a quest trigger and rit Points!
After listening to the Squad Leader's "explanation," Chaplain Apollus offered no critique, nor did he ask if there was any logic behind it. He simply nodded calmly and looked at the leader. "Fine. We shall do as you say. The timing is wrong today. I demand that you offer a cup of blood to tomorrow at the ninth Terran hour."
Beep beep beep!
[Quest: Bloodletting Ritual] triggered!
Quest Brief: Chaplain Apollus of the Flesh Tearers demands you offer him a cup of blood according to the ritual tomorrow at the ninth Terran hour. Reward: 100 rit Points per donation.
The Helldivers, having successfully triggered the quest, naturally agreed with delight. Smug smiles spread across their faces; they could already see the beautiful sight of two hundred rit Points flowing into their accounts every day.
The next day, 09:00 hours.
The maintenance tunnel had been cleared once again. The ergency lights were dimd, and several candles were lit, their flickering flas casting mottled shadows against the tal walls, creating a heavy, somber atmosphere.
Chaplain Apollus stood quietly beside Brother Reid. His physique was equally massive, but unlike the heavy, oppressive aura surrounding Reid, Apollus radiated a restrained and steadfast power. His gaze swept calmly over the Helldivers. Their faces held a hint of excitent; they were clearly ready for today's "quest."
The Squad Leader acted as the guide for the ritual once more. He pulled the glass chalice from his pack and placed it carefully before Chaplain Apollus. Then, with practiced ease, he cut his wrist, letting the blood drip into the cup. The remaining Helldivers followed suit, one by one, repeating the motion.
Apollus witnessed the entire process. He could feel the thirst rising from deep within his genetic code as the blood gathered. Yet, he showed no urgency, waiting in silence.
Once all the Helldivers had finished, the Squad Leader respectfully held out the blood-filled chalice to the Chaplain.
Apollus reached out with a heavy, armored hand and took the weighted cup. He raised it to eye-level, inspecting it closely. This blood, the distilled essence of mortal life, shimred with an inviting luster in the gloom. He could sll the tallic, rust-like sweetness—a scent both familiar and desired.
He did not hesitate, nor was he frantic. Just as he had observed Brother Reid, Chaplain Apollus slowly—exceedingly slowly—brought the chalice to the feeding port of his helt. He tilted the cup gently, allowing the warm blood to flow into his mouth with an elegance that almost bordered on aristocratic dining.
He savored the unique experience. This was worlds apart from the battlefield where, on the edge of the Black Rage, he would tear at an enemy's throat like a beast and gorge on blood. That bloodletting was a chaotic, out-of-control act ant to suppress fury and ensure survival. But this cup was ritualistic, offered freely; it was orderly and controlled.
thodically, he drained the cup bit by bit. The entire process was silent, save for the flickering hiss of the candles. Only when the chalice was completely empty did he slowly lower it.
Chaplain Apollus exhaled a long breath. The thirst within him was soothed, but more importantly, he did not feel the usual danger of being swallowed by rage that often followed the consumption of blood. On the contrary, his mind felt unprecedentedly clear—as if this cup of blood had helped him find his bearings rather than losing himself in a tide of gore.
Perhaps this wasn't the intended purpose of the ritual the Helldivers had concocted, but it was the result—an unexpected yet vital one.
Apollus turned his gaze toward Brother Reid, who was watching him with an inquiring look. The Chaplain nodded slightly, signaling that he was in peak condition.
This was a significant discovery. If this thod could effectively help the Flesh Tearers combat the Curse, it would be a monuntal contribution to the Chapter. Chaplain Apollus decided he would report this matter to the Chapter Master.
If it truly proved beneficial, it ought to be promoted throughout the entire Chapter. This might be the silver lining the Flesh Tearers had been searching for beneath the shadow of their Curse.
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