Cultist Synonym Novels & Stories

Everyone knows Stelle and Ruth don't like each other. By the look of things, they'd probably exchange words soon. "He was a cultist!" Nun Stelle glared harder. "Search for the cruellest cult who terrorized Hollow University and New York as a whole years ago. They're called Qodium Cult, their members rank go up by the number of people they kill! There's no assurance that he's not part of the cult anymore. He's dangerous!" "Stop lying, Stelle!" Ruth pointed a finger. "Stop already! What silly cult? Just say you fell for the Priest at first sight, but knowing you're forbidden from developing romantic feelings, you're making up fake lores!"

“Nature has told me your name. Ah, please forgive my prudent behavior. I am a lowly girl who has recently been chosen by nature. Please forgive me for not knowing basic etiquette when conversing with a high noble like you.” Conan was taken aback yet again. The shaman’s mannerisms were lacking but she didn’t come short of any normal noble. If anything, she was quite benevolent and quick-witted. “The devil. Something troublesome has landed on my land.” Hinata however had other worries. “Has this precinct been inflicted by their cult?” Cult - was the group of fanatic people who were obsessed over some strong belief. A devil cult was a fanatic group of people who worshipped the devil, however, i

Their presence radiated an ancient, malevolent energy that was both mesmerizing and horrifying. Damien signaled for silence, and we moved cautiously toward the center of the courtyard. I could feel every warrior’s heartbeat in the silence, every step measured and deliberate. The cultists’ chanting rose in intensity, their words unintelligible yet filled with purpose. I could see symbols painted on the walls and floors, matching the sigil that now marked my soul. The realization hit me like a blow—the cultists were not merely followers of an old order; they were active participants in an ancient ritual meant to bind or awaken the power within me.

“Please… Warden, I want it. I need it. Use me as you may.” He pounds deeper, hitting the very spot that makes me see stars. I come untouched at first then again when he jerks me through it, spilling over his hands. He follows, flooding my ass with his cum. Pulse after pulse. We stay locked,his chest resting against my back as he breathed into my ear. “Now you know why I'm called a striker.” he whispered into my ears. I whimper. “I never miss.” He pulls out slowly, leaves me dripping and marked. He zips us and uncuffs me as he watches me fall on my knees, blissed out.

When the soul power was weakened to a certain extent, it would harm the soul origin until the poisoned’s soul dissipated. The Wraith Hibiscus would be completely useless in such a situation. Instead, it would stimulate the rapid spread of toxicity and accelerate death. “What exactly is this poison?” Shirley anxiously asked. However, Alex had no answer now either. At this moment, Luneth said, “Could it be the Deadly Soul Disintegrator from the Witch Cult? I once heard my master mention that it is a poison that specifically targets souls. And, the Witch Cult is the greatest cult and state religion in the Hawkgirl Galaxy. It is the place of origin for all the Witch Cults in other worlds.”

It had not been long, but his inner true energy was already significantly depleted! "Be careful, boy. This person is actually a demonic cultivator!" Caspian's voice echoed in his mind. "What's a demonic cultivator?" Chase asked, puzzled. "It's someone who enhances their own powers by absorbing the cultivation of others. In the past, those who practiced such techniques were commonly referred to as demonic cultivators and considered the public enemy of the cultivation world. "I can't believe the Martial Soul Hall would harbor such individuals. The blood mist and shadows around him are the souls of those whose cultivations he has devoured," Caspian explained.

And it also control some life and death that happens in this world, that's also why Eris cult is the most famous cult in this world even the currency is named after her which is Eris currency. But Axis cult is famous for the opposite reason... Namely known for their notoriety, their follower known to be having some screw loose or just plain weird in the head. They will stop at nothing for their missionary job, from fraud to exhortation, etc. They also always slander the Eris cult such as evil cult, heathen cult, crazy cult, etc. They will even smash the windows of Eris church and beat up the believer of Eris cult. This is also why some people thought Axist cult belong to the Demon Lord becau

A few minutes later, the side door opened and I saw Azrik enter alone, he looked at Gáta who, before he could say anything, disappeared in a small purplish-green cloud. Seeing that color and feeling that pressure, I know that Gáta is involved with the curse, somehow she manages to pull energy from the Mother of Monsters. Khalid had said that the name for people involved in the cult of the Ancient Gods was “Cultists” and Gáta is definitely one of those people. The dragon's aura spread like fire spreading through a dry forest, but Hélios' aura protected me from the damage it could cause, especially since I am not at full strength.

They were also remnants of government-created mercenary groups that fought Moslem and communist guerrillas in the ’70s. As a Chop cultist, Aling Sita was suspected of hypnotism, brain-cannibalism, digging up kneecaps from the public cemetery to use as amulets, owning T-shirts scrawled with folk Latin prayers, and wielding their trademark machete to deflect bullets. You can imagine that, no child in her right mind would dare cross her by attempting to steal sugar-apples from her backyard, which were, in inverse proportion to her notoriety, rumored to bear the most succulent fruit.

The Child’s truth was a brand. The fury that replaces the seduction is white-hot. Not just at the Unraveler. At its gall. At the cultists. They appear at the edge of my awareness, drawn like flies to the psychic disturbance. Clad in robes stitched with jagged, non-Euclidean patterns that hurt to look at, they gather at a weak point in the western perimeter – a place subtly thinned by the Unraveler’s earlier probing. They chant. Not words. A discordant, grating resonance that harmonizes sickeningly with the Unraveler’s frustrated hum. Worship. They worship the hunger. The unmaking. They raise jagged crystals, aiming to amplify the whispers, to carve an opening for their devourer-god.