In a quiet booth of a café near the North Tivian cathedral district, Dorothy sat peacefully, gazing at her own reflection in the windowpane beside her as she recalled the contents of the mystical texts she had just read from the Hymn Cathedral’s underground forbidden archive—especially those with notable value. The first among them was a quasi-autobiographical mystical text written by a nun named Unina.
“This nun Unina… her background is somewhat similar to Vania’s. Both were devout followers of the Holy Mother from a young age, both were “exceptionally gifted” in their own ways, and both rose step by step through the Radiance Church’s hierarchy from the grassroots up, eventually reaching at least the Crimson rank… The greatest difference between them may be that Vania’s faith in the Holy Mother isn’t quite as singular and intense as Unina’s.
“Unina’s devotion bordered on fanaticism, even to the point of yearning to hear divine revelation with her own ears. But under the doctrines of the Radiance Church, only the Pontiff is allowed to commune directly with the Trinity. That restriction left her feeling covert dissatisfaction… Honestly, this rule of the Radiance Church—only the Pontiff may hear the gods—is terribly unfair. It doesn’t feel reasonable at all.”
So Dorothy pondered. The Radiance Church was built upon faith in the Trinity, and fanatic believers like Unina were far from rare—it was practically inevitable. But the contradiction was stark: on one hand, the Church fostered intense, personal devotion to the Trinity, and on the other, it centralized divine communion exclusively in the hands of the Pontiff. That was bound to become a problem.
For ordinary believers and the Church’s lower ranks, the restriction might not feel like much of an issue. After all, both the Pontiff and the Trinity were impossibly distant figures. But for high-ranking figures at the Crimson rank and beyond—those with deep understanding of the mystical world—the situation was different.
Such individuals, having studied mysticism and foreign cults, would quickly realize how unusual it was that the Radiance Church’s Trinity all shared a single divine intermediary. Among more zealous believers, this would inevitably lead to doubts.
“The Trinity all speak through a single Pontiff. That means, in effect, that in this enormous Church, the Trinity only acknowledges one person. It feels strange. While the Radiance Saints may appear more united than the Three Gods of the Afterbirth faiths, they are still three distinct deities. No matter how harmonious their relationship, would they really go so far as to share a single oracle? Do they always confer together before giving unified commands through the Pontiff?
“This setup feels less like faith in three gods and more like faith in the Pontiff. It reminds me of the religions in the godless world I came from, where an unseen, silent god never speaks, and only a single leader claims divine authority. The Pontiff’s power is immense—holding sole interpretive authority over scripture. Within the Church, their authority surpasses even that of the gods. It’s hard to imagine something like this happening in a world with real gods.”
Dorothy found this system deeply conducive to heresy. The author of the mystical text, Unina, already showed clear signs of potential deviation.
“This Unina… in the final section of her writing, she declared her desire to claim the title of Saint Amanda. That means she aspired to become one of the Seven Living Saints. If I’m not mistaken, Amanda is Vania’s greatest supporter in the Church. Could that mean she was once Unina? Who knows… We can’t be certain whether Unina ultimately succeeded or not.”
Dorothy sighed quietly and took another sip of her coffee, then began reviewing the other mystical texts worth noting.
Aside from The Thirst of Devotion, which was likely written by a nun who later fell into darkness, Dorothy found two notable Shadow mystical texts. One was a nameless, chaotic notebook filled with scattered fragments describing a secret Shadow society.
This group was known as the Silent Brotherhood—a purely assassin-based organization. They were elusive, unpredictable, and wherever they were seen, assassinations followed.
Their targets included royal nobles, covert high-ranking figures, members of both legitimate governments and heretical cults. From cult leaders to Church archbishops, many had fallen to their blades. They rarely failed—making them one of the most powerful and professional assassin organizations in the mystical world.
The Silent Brotherhood was infamous for their strength and their indiscriminate targeting, which led many to believe they were hired killers who worked for payment. However, the text insisted that wasn’t true. In fact, no one in the mystical world had ever discovered how to contact the Silent Brotherhood, let alone hire them. Though they had carried out numerous assassinations over the centuries, their motives were entirely unknown. Their targets seemed randomly chosen, and no one could determine how someone landed on their list.
The reason people could link specific assassinations to the Silent Brotherhood was due to a signature item left behind: a slender, crescent-moon-shaped sickle—made of a unique material only they used.
Their origins and intentions were a mystery. They committed seemingly unrelated killings at will. Many prominent Church figures, royal families, and even major cults had once launched extensive investigations to track them down, but all efforts ended in failure.
According to the notes, the Silent Brotherhood was most active about five to six hundred years ago. Though there were rumors that they were never truly destroyed, their activity had sharply declined over the last few centuries—nearly vanishing altogether. In the past hundred or two hundred years, there had been no confirmed incidents attributed to them, and in the current mystical world, their name existed mostly as legend.
“No employers. No known motives. Killing targets across black and white factions alike… So there exists a killer organization in this world that acts with total freedom? Judging by the descriptions in this mystical text, these people seem to kill purely on a whim.
“And they’re not just free—they’re absurdly powerful. Killing targets from the Church, kingdoms, and major cults, then escaping unscathed, evading the pursuit and vengeance of all sides… That doesn’t make sense unless a god is protecting them. But which god would back such a strange organization? And for what purpose?”
Dorothy couldn’t help but contemplate. The crescent-shaped sickle brought to mind a certain familiar deity, but she wasn’t sure if that god truly had any connection to the Silent Brotherhood.
“On the surface, they seem to have some link to the Mirror Moon Goddess. But what kind of link, exactly? Could they be a remnant force left on this continent by Her? But why would She do that? What’s the goal behind the Brotherhood’s indiscriminate assassinations of key figures in the mystical world? And why did they stop appearing over the past one or two centuries?”
She pondered deeply, but without sufficient information, her thoughts couldn’t lead to any meaningful conclusions—so she chose to set the matter aside for now.
Another Shadow mystical text worth her attention was titled Shadow Thief’s Journal. It was a manual used by a secret group known as the Shadow Thief Guild for training high-level theft techniques. If the Silent Brotherhood was an assassin group, then the Guild was a den of thieves.
The Shadow Thief Guild was a haven for pickpockets, burglars, and professional robbers. They stole from wealthy merchants, government officials, ordinary citizens, and even mystic societies—anyone with valuables. Some of their members were Beyonders with extraordinary abilities, but the majority were just regular thieves—many of whom had no understanding of mysticism at all before joining.
The Shadow Thief Guild didn’t have particularly high-rank Beyonders—there were hardly any rare White Ash-rank individuals, let alone Black Earth—but its scale was unusually vast. Its members were spread across major cities of many nations across several continents. The organization’s structure was extremely loose, with each city acting as its own autonomous “branch,” almost entirely independent of one another. Each branch would elect a respected figure to act as a shared mentor, but the hierarchical relationship between mentors and branches was weak. Mentors were only responsible for passing on experience, facilitating communication, guiding direction, and coordinating cooperation. The organization had no clear leader, only a few loosely enforced tenets.
Within the Guild, various low-rank Beyonder branches were passed down, many of which were closely linked to tomb-robbing and treasure-hunting groups, with whom they often collaborated. In different cities, they operated under different names, disguising themselves as local street gangs. The mentors were the most experienced Beyonders among them, and this mystical text was a compilation of thieving techniques from countless contributors.
“This Shadow Thief Guild… is less of a formal mystical society and more like a massive thieves’ mutual aid association,” Dorothy thought.
“Its organization is so weak, and aside from stealing, it doesn’t have any grand ambitions. The overall mystical makeup is ridiculously low. Compared to other cultic societies, the danger level is minimal. This kind of group… or rather, this kind of structure might actually be the least of the official authorities’ worries.”
So she mentally assessed it. Still, the Guild’s approach was interesting, and some of the material in the mystical text might prove unexpectedly useful one day.
The last mystical text that caught Dorothy’s attention was titled “Rough Notes on Filth”—just as crude as its name. It contained information about the Filth Coven, one of the more mysterious branches of the Three Afterbirth faiths.
The term "Filth Coven" was, in fact, a one-sided and somewhat simplistic label used by societies across the main continent. Their main territory was far from the mainlands—deep in the southern heart of the Ufiga continent, within its vast and boundless rainforest regions. There, they were known instead as the Cult of Longevity, followed by countless indigenous tribes.
In the harsh and unforgiving rainforests of South Ufiga—choked with miasma, overrun by insects, plagued by disease, and teeming with venomous creatures and savage beasts—many tribes struggled to survive. Most of them worshipped a deity called the God of Prolonged Filth, and under the guidance of their chieftain-priests, formed tightly organized religious structures. The Cult of Longevity was the de facto ruling power over these tribes.
Followers of the cult revered illness and parasites. From a young age, they were raised amidst constant afflictions and voluntarily implanted themselves with various parasites, nurturing them internally. To them, disease was a divine trial bestowed by their god. Those who survived the trials would gain stronger bodies and extended lifespans. Those who perished would contribute their corpses as hosts—incubators for the next generation of divine gifts.
In this worldview, powerful parasites were considered divine emissaries. To the faithful, nurturing parasites within their own bodies was to commune with the divine—and they welcomed it. The entire region was drenched in an atmosphere of pathological, twisted reverence.
“I didn’t expect… the Filth Coven’s foundation to be so far from the main continent—not in the Conquest Sea, not in North Ufiga, but deep in South Ufiga’s fringe lands. No wonder there’s been so little information about them until now.
“To think the Filth Coven would go so far out of their way—crossing immense distances—to support the Wolfblood Society… they’re really committed…”
Dorothy finished the last of her coffee and mused silently. Having reviewed all the mystical texts she’d deemed noteworthy, she now focused on assessing them as a whole.
These ten or so mystical texts spanned a wide range of spiritual attributes. Upon extracting all of them for their raw spirituality, Dorothy gained a sizable haul: 14 Chalice, 12 Stone, 17 Shadow, 8 Lantern, 9 Silence, and 29 Revelation.
Adding this to the spiritual reserves left from the Hymn Cathedral assault, Dorothy’s current tally was 18 Chalice, 16 Stone, 25 Shadow, 16 Lantern, 20 Silence, and 37 Revelation.
Overall, it was a highly successful harvest. While still far from meeting the requirements for advancement, this reserve was more than sufficient to support a few intense battles against formidable enemies. Dorothy had, for the first time in a while, regained almost full combat readiness.
“Whew… with this, the spiritual depletion from my last advancement is finally over. With such a well-rounded reserve, I won’t need to fear unexpected situations for the time being…”
She sighed in relief. For Dorothy, the Wolfblood Society’s assault had turned out to be highly profitable. After replenishing so much spirituality in one go, she had no major concerns in the short term and could now steadily prepare for her next moves.
“I’ve only just advanced to Crimson. There’s no rush to pursue the next rank. The current priority is to continue stabilizing and improving my spiritual reserve… while gradually expanding my own sphere of influence…”
Leaning back in her seat, Dorothy contemplated as her gaze drifted to the sketch of a wolf-like beast in her notebook.
“From practical experience so far, the Bizarre Author’s abilities are extremely useful—but there’s one flaw: geographic limitation. Powerful Anecdotal Bodies can only be summoned effectively in the regions where their anecdote is known. I won’t be able to stay in one place forever. If I leave these regions, my stronger Anecdotal Bodies will lose their potency.”
“Is there a way… to overcome this limitation?”
So she pondered. And before long, a thought formed in her mind.
With that idea in her heart, Dorothy flipped to a fresh page in her notebook—turning past the wolf-beast sketch. Holding her pen in the air for a moment, she then began to write.
“Bloodborne Lore”
“Chapter 1: The Beast Plague”