In the luxurious suite of the hotel, by a window with a sweeping view of the streets, Dorothy, eating a fried egg, found herself lost in thought as she read the neatly printed letters on the page before her.
“So Azam’s Corpse-Sand Society had a trade agreement with the White Craftsmen’s Guild… and that punk Garib pretended at first that he would honor the deal, trying to keep the guild from interfering in the society’s internal power struggle. Then after seizing control, he tore up the agreement and sided with the Dark Gold Society who had secretly supported him all along…
“It’s obvious the guild isn’t on friendly terms with him. Their principle of neutrality is based first and foremost on mutual respect. Garib’s breach of contract was a direct offense, which is why they didn’t hesitate to expose such critical information about the Corpse-Sand Society.”
So thought Dorothy. In her mind, the guild’s biggest grievance wasn’t that Garib was doing business with the Dark Gold Society—after all, they couldn’t control their clients’ choices—but that he broke a formal contract. For merchants, contracts and agreements are sacred.
“Still, I guess it worked in my favor. If Garib hadn’t broken the deal, Beverly wouldn’t have agreed to share this intel with me. Looks like it’s time to go buy a ticket to Ivengard.”
With that thought, Dorothy finished off the last bite of her fried egg, picked up her pen, and began writing on the page again.
“What does that divination artifact Azam possessed actually look like?”
Since she was now planning to head to Ivengard to retrieve the object, it was important to know what it looked like. But Beverly’s reply caught her off guard.
“That artifact? Sorry, I don’t know either. Ever since Azam got his hands on it, he never showed it to anyone. So aside from Azam himself, no one knows what it looks like.”
“No one knows… damn, that means I’ll have to search for it blindly once I get to the Pure Flow Cathedral?” Dorothy frowned as she read the reply, then picked up her pen again to write her next question.
“You said before that the artifact has a three-year cooldown between uses. So is it currently ready to be used again, or is it still in cooldown? If it’s still recovering, how long until it’s usable again?”
If it had only recently been used, Dorothy figured the value of the artifact would drop drastically—she wouldn’t want to go through all the trouble for something that wouldn’t work for years.
Beverly wrote.
“No need to worry.”
“We’ve worked with Azam for years, so we’re well aware of his major moves. The last time he rallied his entire society for a major excavation and recovered a significant cache of Revelation storage items was in April of 1357. That means the actual divination ritual likely took place about a month earlier, in late March 1357.”
“Late March 1357… It’s now early March 1360. So the artifact should be ready to use again in about two to six weeks. That makes it absolutely worth grabbing.”
Dorothy calculated quickly. But this also raised another issue—if the artifact’s cooldown was about to end, then Garib would likely realize that too. He’d be intensifying his search. She wouldn’t be the only one going after it.
“Thanks for the intel. It’s been really helpful.”
“Glad it helped. Whether it’s Garib or the Dark Gold Society, we’d love nothing more than to give them a headache.”
After a few more brief exchanges, Beverly bid farewell and “logged off,” and Dorothy closed her copy of the Literary Sea Logbook. Once she finished her last bite of ham, she decided to take advantage of the time to read the two Stone mystical texts she had just received to replenish her spirituality.
And so, sitting in her suite, Dorothy wiped her mouth and remotely controlled Brandon—who was still riding back via carriage—to open the oil-paper package he had received from the guild representative. From it, he retrieved two mystical texts. Dorothy picked up the topmost one and began to read.
…
The first mystical text was a handwritten manuscript. The author was named Cole Wright, a man Dorothy—and indeed most of the world—knew well. He was none other than the inventor and refiner of the steam engine.
Cole Wright had lived more than half a century ago. In Dorothy’s middle school textbooks, he was recorded as one of the greatest inventors of the era. His innovations in steam engine design triggered a steam revolution across the world. He was a pioneer who brought steam power into daily life, and the inventor of the steam locomotive. Anyone with even a modest education knew his name.
According to the contents of this manuscript, while he was known as a brilliant inventor in the mundane world, Cole Wright was also a powerful Stone Beyonder in the mysticism world. He had been a high-ranking member of the White Craftsmen’s Guild and a devout follower of the god of craftsmanship and forging.
To the general public, Wright was a genius inventor. But in truth, his achievements far surpassed what was publicly known. This manuscript recorded many of his other designs and inventions—ones that touched the mystical.
There was, for instance, a miniaturized steam core made by refining a large steam engine—used to design steam-powered vehicles as a replacement for carriages. Or a jetpack powered by Shadow storage items, granting flight to ordinary people. Or submersible vessels capable of exploring the ocean depths. The manuscript also explored potential mundane fuel sources even more efficient than coal…
Page after page, Dorothy took in the astonishing inventions and designs laid out in Cole Wright’s manuscript. If these innovations could have been implemented and popularized, they would’ve reshaped the world and society entirely—but she also understood, the traces of cognitive poison embedded in these pages ensured that such a future would remain unrealized.
…
“Just as Beverly said… nearly all the great figures who drive societal change are extraordinary individuals in their own right. Mr. Cole here is a prime example. These designs are brilliant. If not for the existence of cognitive poison, he might’ve completely reshaped this world.”
Dorothy mused as she finished the manuscript, reflecting on how this great inventor had been chosen by the Core of Order to become the initiator of the steam revolution. With his position as a high-ranking member of the White Craftsmen’s Guild, he was likely a favored one of the Core of Order Themself.
Once she finished reading the first mystical text, Dorothy had Brandon, still on the distant carriage, store the book away. Then she retrieved the second mystical text and began reading.
…
The second mystical text was titled “Bones of the Mountain”. It was an old document, with pages damaged and worn by time. The author was unknown. The text recounted research into the ancient faith of the Stone Prince.
According to the manuscript, the author had once explored the eastern region of the main continent, deep within the towering Spine Mountains. There, they discovered the ruins of a village hidden in the mountain depths. After long investigation, they concluded this village had once belonged to followers of the Stone Prince.
The manuscript was a compilation of the author’s findings and reflections from prolonged research. According to them, the village was constructed entirely of natural, unprocessed giant stones stacked together—no sculptures or idols were erected to the Stone Prince. Unlike other gods with physical statues, the villagers worshiped the greatest mountain they could see, treating the towering peak itself as the embodiment of the deity. The altar was placed in a spot that best showcased the majesty of the mountain.
The funerary rites of these people involved cremation, after which complete skeletons were preserved and placed in natural crevices high on the cliffs—places almost unreachable to normal humans. The author was puzzled as to how these non-mystic villagers could have placed bones on such steep cliffs.
The manuscript also mentioned visits to surviving nearby villages where the author collected local legends. According to these tales, all tall mountains were believed to be the transformed bodies of sleeping giants. Thus, every mountain deserved deep reverence. Even though most of the people had since converted to the worship of the Three Saints, traces of mountain-worship persisted in their everyday customs.
…
“The faith of the Stone Prince… I didn’t expect it to survive even in such remote corners. Judging from this text, it really is an old, primitive belief—no carved idols, just revering the mountain itself. Completely different from the Order-oriented Core of Order that emphasizes crafting and forging…”
Dorothy reflected after finishing the second mystical text. Then she had Brandon stow away both books and began extracting their spirituality.
From Cole Wright’s manuscript, she gained 4 Stone and 2 Revelation. From Bones of the Mountain, she acquired 3 Stone and 1 Revelation. Combining this with her current reserves, Dorothy’s updated spirituality was 28 Chalice, 11 Stone, 20 Shadow, 4 Lantern, 14 Silence, 40 Revelation, plus 2 Chalice and 4 Shadow in storage items, and 1850 pounds in cash.
“That’s a solid boost to my Stone spirituality—enough for self-defense, at least. But if I end up in another fight, it’ll probably run dry again. Right now, I can only maintain my combat effectiveness. Reaching the standard for advancement feels extremely difficult… unless another jackpot like the Summer Tree incident comes along.”
Dorothy sighed at her current situation, then pushed the thought aside. She got up, put on her coat and shoes, and prepared to head out.
“Enough of that. Time to take care of business—go retrieve Brandon, then head to the port and buy a ticket to Ivengard. If that divination artifact comes off cooldown in mid to late March, there’s not much time left. I’d better scout out Adria as soon as possible.”
With that thought, Dorothy stepped out the door. After heading downstairs, she looked around the street outside the hotel and flagged down a passing carriage.
Once aboard, she told the driver her destination, and the carriage promptly set off. Sitting inside, Dorothy, bored, glanced out at the street scenes beyond the window—until her gaze fell on a rolled-up newspaper placed by the door. Many carriage drivers kept a copy of the day’s paper in the cab for passengers to pass the time, and Dorothy, a lover of words in any form, was always happy to read—mystical text or not.
With nothing better to do, she picked up the newspaper and unfolded it. It was the Telva Morning Post. As she scanned past the title, her eyes landed on the front-page headline—and froze.
After frowning deeply for a long moment, she couldn’t help but read the headline aloud.
“Pilgrimage Fleet in Peril, the Holy Mother Shows Mercy Through Miracles—A Beacon of Divinity Shines Upon the Endless Sea, the Evangel’s Grace Enlightens the Wilds…”
“The Story of Sister Vania Chafferon—A Pious Light Among Modern Clergy, Devoted Spreader of the Holy Mother’s Gospel, the Faithful Servant of the Lord…”
Staring at this enormous, full-front-page article… reading that familiar name in bold letters… Dorothy fell completely silent.
After a long pause, she finally muttered in Prittish.
“…What the hell is that girl doing this time?”
"Back when I first made it into the news, it was just a local paper in Igwynt. I had to wipe out an entire stronghold of Burton’s people just to barely get a spot on the front page. Vania, on the other hand, grabs the whole front page the moment she shows up—truly, the younger generation is formidable..."
...
10:00 AM, Northern Conquest Sea
Upon the sea, a fleet of more than a dozen formidable Church warships cut through the waves. The orange-yellow solar ring banners fluttered violently in the sea breeze.
At the center of the fleet were three ordinary passenger ships, packed with pilgrims who had only recently been rescued from peril. Now, they were protected by a naval force twice as strong as before, advancing toward their intended destination. This time, not the slightest mishap would be allowed.
At the front of the fleet, on the deck of a massive flagship, stood a nun clad in white. She gazed out over the sea where land was still nowhere in sight. Her robes were lifted by the wind, and a trace of worry was visible in her eyes as she stared into the endless horizon.
"Sister Vania, the sea breeze is quite strong out here. Please come inside the cabin to rest."
At that moment, a steady voice rang out from behind her. Vania turned to see a young man in a Sacrament Knight navy officer’s uniform. Judging by the insignia on his shoulder, he held a high position—an upper deacon within the Church’s hierarchy.
Yet even as such, this upper deacon now looked at the intermediate-ranked Vania with visible respect, addressing her with sincere reverence.
"Ah... Father André. I just wanted to see if we could spot land yet. How much longer until we reach our destination?" Vania asked with equal courtesy.
"Not far now. We’re expected to arrive at Port Cader tonight. After a night’s rest there, we’ll depart tomorrow morning and arrive in Adria by afternoon. Archbishop Antonio has already arranged a grand welcoming banquet. Many important guests from Adria and across Ivengard will be present. Sister Vania, as the guest of honor, please be sure to arrive in Adria in your best form—so please return inside and avoid catching cold."