The heart of the church.
Everyone found their places.
In a circular area marked with the symbol of their faith.
Five black-robed followers stood in an outer circle, four more formed an inner square, and in the center, Bishop Chrisbella, draped in purple, knelt in prayer.
Behind them hung a mural depicting suited onlookers watching a witch burn at the stake.
What century is this, still doing witch hunts?
And in modern times, this kind of religion feels pretty rare, doesn't it?
Barry, tucked away in a corner, grumbled to himself.
Bishop Chris crossed her hands over her chest, extending only her index fingers as she began to pray:
"I see them."
"Heaven and earth flee from their presence."
"No place left to call home."
Chris finished, and the followers echoed her words.
"I saw the dead, great and small."
"Judged according to their deeds."
"If anyone's name was not found in the book of life, they were thrown into the lake of fire."
As the final words rang out, a brilliant white light sparked into existence.
This light, forged by their faith, held back the dark forces, keeping the church safe.
Barry stared at the radiant glow. It shone with a holy brilliance, but who could guess that most of those fueling this faith carried their own sins—some downright rotten to the core?
Guess it doesn't matter if the source of faith is just or not in this world.
The light kept glowing.
It bathed Barry's face, warming him, but then a strange hunger hit him, like a homeless guy starving for days catching a whiff of a fresh Big Mac.
He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on the light, hiding a greed he didn't even know he had.
It was like an irresistible aroma pulling him in.
He stared, almost wanting to chew up the light and swallow it whole.
Good thing he was in the corner. Most people were deep in prayer, eyes closed, missing his odd behavior.
Lost in the glow, Barry started daydreaming. He imagined himself as the master of this place, everyone else his hired cooks, whipping up a feast just for him. The food was ready, and he was about to dig in.
He closed his eyes, picturing a steaming spread of dishes.
Slowly, his senses seemed to expand, like he was a whirlpool pulling in the surrounding currents.
Then, a faint trickle of energy flowed toward him.
His starving soul drank it in, satisfaction washing over him.
Awesome!
Still lost in his fantasy, a sudden tremor shook the room.
The candle flames flickered!
The once-vibrant white light dimmed slightly.
The congregation stirred, murmurs of alarm spreading.
"Quiet! Keep praying, hold fast to your faith. As long as we believe, no demon can touch us."
"Everyone, pray together now. Let our faith protect us."
Bishop Chris's sharp gaze steadied the room, calming the panicked followers.
Barry snapped out of it. New to this place, he wasn't sure what was going on, but from the chaos, it seemed like this wasn't a regular occurrence.
With Chris's commanding voice, the followers resumed their prayers. Even the men watching Barry joined in.
"I see them."
"Heaven and earth flee from their presence."
"No place left to call home."
"…"
As their faith stabilized, the white light grew brighter, the tremors faded, and everything went back to normal.
This time, when Barry looked at the light, that weird feeling didn't return.
"Eh, it's just whatever," he thought.
After a while, light from the outside world filtered through the church's stained glass.
The Otherworld was over. Silent Hill was back in the real world.
…
"Tell me, how'd you end up here?"
Chrisbella, the middle-aged bishop with hair like a bird's nest, questioned Barry. They'd been trapped here for thirty years and were desperate to know how an outsider got in.
"…That's the thing. Honestly, I have no clue why I'm here."
Barry didn't bother spinning some flimsy lie. He just said he was out joyriding, speeding along, and somehow ended up here.
Chris looked disappointed but not surprised. After years in this place, she knew a lot of its secrets.
She knew why she'd survived but couldn't leave.
"Do you have faith?" she asked, shifting gears.
"Didn't before. But now? I could," Barry said honestly.
In other words, I'm open to it, I can believe, and I want to join you guys.
"Good." Chris smiled.
Their sect used to have more followers, but Alessa's revenge had whittled them down to just those in the church now.
Every believer was a piece of the puzzle in resisting the dark forces.
Chris's religion needed fresh blood.
…
Seven days later.
Barry had pretty much settled in.
Memorizing scriptures, scavenging outside, and sprinting like mad before the Otherworld hit.
Those were the three keys to surviving in Silent Hill, especially that last one.
When the siren blared, it was like a death countdown. Everyone turned into a track star.
People adapt fast, and Barry was getting the hang of life here.
At first, Chris had people go with him, supposedly to protect and teach him, but really to keep an eye on him.
Over time, they saw he was just a regular guy and eased up.
But they weren't wrong to be cautious.
Deep down, Barry had no faith in these people's future. He was already planning to play the traitor, ready to jump ship before Alessa's next massacre.
Plus, he'd noticed something off about his body lately. Once or twice a day, he'd get this weird hunger.
Food didn't fix it.
Only during prayers in the church, if he opened his eyes and stared at the light, would he slip into a hallucination. His spirit would feel full, satisfied.
But then, the light of faith would dim, like he'd taken a bite out of it.
Afterward, Barry felt sharper, like an old guy rediscovering his youth. His senses even got a boost.
Ten seconds before the siren, his gut would tell him it was coming.
This ability was so useful—could it be common?
After watching the others, Barry realized he was the only human with it. Some birds in Silent Hill showed similar traits, though.
But what was the cost of secretly feeding on the light of faith?
At first, he was scared of getting caught.
But then he noticed the light always weakened when it fought the Otherworld's darkness, whether he took a little or not.
As long as he was subtle, no one would notice.
If no one saw, it's like it never happened.