Northern Shore of Conquest Sea, Navaha
In the night-shrouded city of Navaha, inside a western district church, many pilgrims from the Church fleet were deep in prayer. Among them was Vania, who, despite her usual unwavering devotion, had fallen into a heavy sleep due to the intrusion of a mystical power.
Seated on a church pew, Vania had slipped into a dream dominated by another’s will—a dream where her mind was laid bare, unable to conceal any secrets. Though her sleeping figure inside the church drew no attention from the other worshipers, outside the church, a pair of eyes were fixated on her.
"The nun in white has fallen completely asleep… Looks like Pablo’s Dream Snare worked. Time for me to pick my own target."
Outside the modest church, before a window, stood a plainly dressed young man. He peered in through the glass, observing the scene within. His gaze shifted between the sleeping Vania and another man near a different window, who appeared to be resting with his eyes closed.
These two men were in the midst of carrying out a special reconnaissance mission. They were to select appropriate targets from among the churchgoers, put them to sleep using their abilities, and then infiltrate their dreams to extract information. One of them had already chosen his target—the nun in distinctive white robes—and deployed a Dream Snare. Now, the other needed to select his own.
Their objective was to uncover the true mission concealed beneath the Church fleet’s apparent refugee-transport mission. Thus, they needed to target individuals who appeared to hold higher or more specialized status. The nun had been chosen because her white habit stood out, and now the second man needed to identify someone similarly valuable.
Eventually, after several rounds of scrutiny, he fixed his sights on a young male officer seated near the front of the church. The man wore a Church knight’s uniform and appeared to be of low-ranking officer status.
Focusing intently on the officer, the observer outside the church began to activate his ability. As the already weary officer was gently nudged into slumber, the infiltrator also closed his eyes.
…Meanwhile, within the dream of the nun in white—
“You say your fleet is headed to Ivengard for a pilgrimage? Then why did you suddenly divert to Navaha?”
In the dream-square of the church district, the blurred, shadowy figure questioned the dazed Vania. Her expression still vacant, she responded.
“Our fleet came to Navaha to disembark the passengers from the Shimmering Pearl. Since the shipwreck occurred nearest to Navaha, we docked here.”
“So it really was just to offload passengers…”
The humanoid shadow muttered thoughtfully. They had originally suspected the Church fleet’s sudden appearance in Navaha was a front for some hidden agenda—offloading passengers merely a convenient excuse. But based on Vania’s answer, that might genuinely be the mission’s purpose.
“So these zealots really did come here to unload refugees… Seems Lady Garcia was just being overly cautious. Or perhaps this nun isn’t high-ranking enough to access more sensitive intel. Either way, to be safe, I’ll keep pressing for more information…”
With that in mind, the shadow prepared to continue his interrogation.
“Besides transporting refugees, does your fleet have any other missions? Especially any covert or confidential ones?”
“No,” Vania replied succinctly.
The shadow pushed further.
“Then what caused the disturbance at the port yesterday afternoon?”
“That commotion was the result of Lord Giorde and his subordinates engaging two exposed members of the Abyssal Church.”
“The Abyssal Church? Those water ghosts?”
Surprised by her response, the shadow’s expression shifted. He hadn’t expected the situation to involve the Abyssal Church—the Church’s enemy wasn’t his faction at all, but theirs.
“I didn’t see that coming… so this whole incident is connected to those water freaks? That’s valuable intelligence. If the Church isn’t targeting us, then Lady Garcia can rest easy.”
The shadow continued to reflect silently. As far as they were concerned, if the Church wasn’t targeting them, then that was for the best. They didn’t need to take drastic measures—only remain cautious and avoid exposure.
Having confirmed that the Church wasn’t here to cause them trouble, the shadow let out a breath of relief and resumed questioning Vania.
“Also yesterday afternoon, there were explosions and several gunshots heard from the Barrenstone Tidal Flats in the eastern part of the city. Do you know what that was about?”
“Yes. That was after the Abyssal Church follower, Massimo Russo, escaped by swimming to that location. He was intercepted by a pre-arranged ambush on the shore. The gunfire and explosions came from that battle.”
Vania continued to answer in her usual blank tone, and the shadow paused briefly before continuing.
“The battle sounds were the result of an ambush? Did the Church foresee his escape route and intentionally set the trap at Barren Rock Shore?”
He posed the question, but Vania’s response caught him completely off guard.
“No. The ones who set the ambush… were not the Church.”
“Not the Church? Then what other factions are present in Navaha besides them?”
The shadow’s tone grew confused as he asked, and Vania nodded in affirmation. Realizing that there truly were other forces at work in Navaha beyond the Church, the shadow froze momentarily before urgently asking.
“Who? Who ambushed that so-called Massimo? What faction was it, if not the Church?”
“It was... Miss Doro—”
Just as Vania was about to answer, something unexpected occurred.
Within Vania’s dreamscape, in the wide square of the church district, the background passersby—previously milling about without interaction—suddenly halted in place. They stared blankly toward the sky, and then, in unison, began to chant,
“We are all born of the bloodwaters of our mother’s womb;
thus, in offering sacrifice to the Holy Mother, one must venerate their own birth mother as the idol…”
“Blood-wine intertwined—between me and the Holy Mother, just as between me and the one who bore me…”
“Ah, great Judge of the Skies, forgive our sins—
for our fall is to endure, our betrayal is to remain faithful…”
“The Wind Knight, Arthur, sought to pursue Anglo—
yet knew not the road ahead… and it was then the witch with eight eyes and eight fingers appeared…”
Suddenly, the dream plaza was overtaken by a cacophony of overlapping voices. Each of the dream’s background characters began chanting verses—some solemn, some sorrowful, some reverent—each reciting different passages.
The entire square was flooded with this eerie chorus. In the air above, lines of glowing script appeared, floating freely throughout the plaza, drifting into every corner.
“What… is this…?”
The shadow, stunned by the abrupt change, tried to make sense of what was happening. But before he could act, the chaos overwhelmed him. The cacophony of forbidden verses thundered in his ears. The illuminated, dangerous glyphs filled his vision. In that instant, he was completely engulfed by mystical knowledge.
Whether by sight, sound, or sensation, torrents of incomprehensible information invaded the shadow’s mind—and with them, came a searing, potent poison.
Within that storm of echoing verses and drifting sigils, the humanoid shadow clutched his ears and let out a scream of pure agony. His form began to warp and twist in unnatural ways, and in a grotesque, rapid contortion, he dissolved—vanishing entirely from Vania’s dreamscape.
“AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!”
In the real world—beside the Navaha church—a bloodcurdling scream suddenly rang out. It was so loud and jarring that it interrupted the evening prayers inside the sanctuary. Dozens of pilgrims rose from their pews with furrowed brows, turning to look toward the source of the outcry beyond the window. Some, visibly annoyed, pointed in that direction and began shouting in protest.
"Who’s there?!"
From the direction the pilgrims pointed, outside the church window, a young man clutched his head, eyes wide in agony. Blood streamed from his nose, eyes, and ears. With an expression twisted in unspeakable pain, he collapsed backward onto the ground.
Not far from him, his partner—who had also been using Dream Snare—was jolted awake by the scream. Disabling his ability, he rushed to the fallen man.
“Pablo! What happened to you?!”
He crouched beside Pablo, frantically checking his condition. Within moments, he realized the horrifying truth—Pablo, bleeding from all orifices, was dead. The shock nearly made him fall backward.
“Dead... He’s actually dead?! How?! He just died out of nowhere?!”
Staring at his comrade’s corpse, the young man gasped in disbelief. No one had attacked Pablo—he’d just been mid-dream infiltration moments ago.
But there was no time to investigate. The noise had drawn attention; footsteps from inside the church were closing in fast. Startled, the young man sprang up and fled into the night.
By the time those inside the church reached the scene, all they found was Pablo’s body, blood leaking from every facial orifice.
Meanwhile, inside the church, Vania slowly stirred awake.
“Ugh… What just happened? I got so sleepy all of a sudden… I actually fell asleep during evening prayer… How improper…”
Rubbing her eyes and adjusting her glasses, Vania was about to resume praying when she noticed the church had become disorderly. People had stopped praying and gathered in a corner, murmuring to one another.
“Eh? What’s going on? Did something happen while I was asleep?”
As she murmured in confusion, a familiar voice echoed in her mind.
“Sister Vania… are you awake?”
“Eh? Miss Dorothea? Are you… speaking to me through Aka?”
Recognizing the voice, Vania responded inwardly. Dorothy’s reply came swiftly.
“Yes, it’s me. I need to remind you of what just happened. This city—Navaha—may be far more complicated than it appears…”
…
Elsewhere in Navaha that night, in a quiet room—
Garcia sat in a plush single-seat armchair, stunned, staring at the anxious young man before her. Her voice trembled with disbelief.
“What?! You said Pablo is dead? And just collapsed without warning?!”
“Hah… Yes, Madam Garcia. I was targeting a church officer with Dream Snare when I heard Pablo scream. I ended my session and ran over—he was already on the ground, dead. Blood pouring from his nose, eyes, ears… It was horrifying.”
The youth panted as he explained, and Garcia followed up sharply.
“How did he die? Was anyone attacking him?”
"—I... I don’t know! I really don’t know how Pablo suddenly ended up like that! I didn’t see anyone attack him, and he didn’t have any obvious wounds, but he just died… just like that, out of nowhere… it was terrifying…”
The young man stammered in panic. After hearing his words, Garcia paused slightly, then spoke with a cold and serious tone.
“Pablo died under mysterious circumstances—then it’s very likely he was being watched by someone in secret… And you were right there when he died. Yet you didn’t uncover a single clue about the killer, and you couldn’t even dispose of the body before running back? Tell me—what good are you?”
Garcia’s gaze turned sharp and dangerous as she stared him down. Feeling the pressure, the young man immediately raised his voice to defend himself.
“No, Madam! I didn’t return empty-handed! I managed to extract some intelligence using the Dream Snare—I believe it’s critical information!”
“What information?”
“I—it’s about those zealots! I used a Dream Snare on one of their officers, and from him, I learned why they’ve been loitering in Navaha without leaving!”
The youth trembled as he explained, and after a moment’s pause, Garcia responded.
“You found out why those zealots are staying in Navaha? What is it?”
“They’re waiting! Lady Garcia—they’re waiting! The officer I dreamt into said that the entire fleet is currently waiting for Inquisitors to arrive from Telva!”
“The Church is gathering more of their forces here—and now even the Tribunal is getting involved! If they’re sending Inquisitors, then it’s definitely aimed at us!”
“Lady Garcia, the Church has already locked its sights on us!”
The youth relayed the vital intelligence he’d extracted from the officer, and as his words sank in, Garcia’s expression grew increasingly grim.