East Coast of Pritt, Tivian.
In the deep of night, under a cloudless sky, the full moon hung high and the stars shone bright. The royal capital, which had just celebrated its coronation festivities earlier in the day, was now draped in a tranquil hush. The citizens, having joyfully welcomed their new queen, were now resting peacefully in their homes, unaware that at this very moment, their queen was once again ascending the revered staircase to receive a holier recognition.
In the East District, the vast expanse of the World Plaza was steeped in a serene and mysterious moonlit silence. Though the grand and towering Crystal Palace had extinguished all its lights, the starlight and moonlight reflecting off its surface still cast a crystalline glow, from which distant night-hymns softly echoed and swirled.
The veiled Night Chanters of the Church’s Court of Secrets, dressed in flowing black garments, were now lined on both sides of the palace steps, gently singing praises to the Saintess. Their songs, faint and elusive, carried an air of mystery—like wind-blown whispers through the trees. As their chant rose, the Queen—having just stepped out of her dream realm—walked solemnly up the steps in ceremonial attire.
Lifting the trailing gown studded with starlike gems, the young queen slowly entered the dim crystal hall. Step by step, she advanced beneath the great glass dome bathed in moonlight, just as she had walked into the sacred hymn chapel earlier that day. But unlike then, only a handful of nobles awaited her here.
Beneath the dome, the young queen gradually lowered her posture and respectfully knelt down. The nobles on either side followed suit, some wearing sincere reverence, others bearing faintly peculiar expressions—until a glint of silvery light illuminated the dim hall.
As if the moon itself had descended from the heavens, the cold, ethereal radiance swept through the palace. All present were momentarily stunned. Those with reverent expressions were moved, while those harboring doubts grew tense. Yet regardless of their emotions, all inner turmoil swiftly vanished—like a windless lake with a mirrored surface.
Kneeling, the young queen gazed upward in awe at the sacred figure descending in the moonlight through the crystal dome—the floating silver hair, the crystal-like skin, and the luminescence that lit the darkness while also blending into it.
When her eyes met those vast, galaxy-like irises, her heart surged more powerfully than peace could suppress. Praise and oaths brimmed on the tip of her tongue, ready to spill forth—until she saw a slender finger raised to crystal-carved lips in a gesture of silence. It was then she understood: this ceremony required no words. Just as the ritual itself was a secret unknown to the countless ordinary citizens of Pritt.
Enlightened, the young queen gently closed her eyes and lowered her head. In serenity, she emptied her thoughts, awaiting the sacred hands to place the crystal crown upon her coiled hair… awaiting the moonlight that had touched the mortal world to fade… and vanish within the hall.
Behind her, among the few attendees, the young duchess exhaled in relief upon witnessing this moment, and smiled with ease.
…
“The atmosphere’s pretty nice… has a good vibe to it. Just a shame there weren’t more people. Couldn’t you have invited a few more to boost the grandeur?”
After the ceremony, along a secluded moonlit path in the World Plaza, Artcheli commented frankly as she looked at Dorothy, who was stretching her shoulders nearby. Having returned to her usual form, Dorothy replied casually.
“This ceremony was mainly for strengthening the link between legal authority and mysticism. Intimidating dissidents was only a secondary purpose—no need for a big spectacle… After all, doesn’t Shadow mean being covert? If I made it too flashy, wouldn’t that make your job harder? The Church has to be the face of this, after all…”
“You’re actually being considerate of our job? How thoughtful of you… But you do realize that because of you, the Church’s workload has more than doubled in the past two years.”
Artcheli chuckled softly, then rubbed her shoulder. Dorothy yawned and continued.
“Wah… well, you can’t blame me alone. It’s those cults and evil gods always causing trouble. I’d love to take a break too, but they won’t let me. Just look at today, those two came knocking themselves.”
She narrowed her eyes and glanced sideways at Artcheli.
“By the way, you guys didn’t get hurt fighting them, right?”
“There were some injuries, but nothing permanent. Thanks to your timely intervention. That Dark Coin Noble’s divine power was a real pain. If you’d been a bit later, who knows what would’ve happened to me and your student.”
Looking at her scorched hand, Artcheli’s expression turned serious. She had avoided the Dark Coin Noble’s spiritual explosion by shifting dimensions, while Anna withstood it using a high-pressure wind shield and her own physical toughness. Even so, Artcheli hadn’t escaped completely unscathed—and Anna had it worse. Fortunately, with the Court of Redemption’s help, their injuries weren’t a major concern.
“Even a Church Saint can’t avoid getting hurt, huh…”
“Did you see who we were up against? The leader of the Dark Gold Society. A name only whispered in the mysticism world. I knew your enemies wouldn’t be pushovers, but I didn’t expect to go up against him directly…”
Artcheli sighed. As a Secrets Cardinal, she had dominated the mysticism world for decades, rarely meeting worthy foes. But ever since getting involved with Dorothy, her opponents had been increasingly formidable.
“The Dark Coin Noble of the Dark Gold Society always acted with secrecy and precision. He’s had that title for centuries, yet the Historical Scripture Department has no record of him ever making a move. Even to me, he’s a deeply mysterious figure. Why did he suddenly go after you today? And he brought along a… what did you say? A resurrected Undead King?”
Dorothy lightly shook her head and replied.
“Maybe it’s the Undead King who was targeting me, and the Dark Coin Noble was just an accomplice. That living mummy is a remnant of the First Dynasty, revived by unknown means. He set his sights on the dynasty relics. The Dark Coin Noble might’ve been hired by him.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of the Undead King buried deep in the northern tombs. I thought they were aligned with you?”
“They’re relics of a civilization that died over seven thousand years ago. Such a span can distort even the wisest of minds. So it’s not surprising they’ve developed differing positions. Not all of them are hostile to me… but the one we ran into today was definitely the most extreme among them.”
Hearing this, Artcheli thoughtfully touched her chin and murmured.
“So… some ancient revenant, revived by who-knows-what, hired the leader of the Dark Gold Society to help him act. Just how high a price did he have to pay to move someone like Dark Coin Noble…”
“Or maybe he didn’t pay at all. If the Undead King’s goal brought massive potential gains for Dark Coin Noble, he might’ve offered help on his own.”
Just then, a deep voice rang out ahead. Dorothy and Artcheli turned to see a tall figure in cardinal robes and a heavy metal mask walking toward them.
“Alberto?”
“A pleasure to meet you, Divine Child… I am one of the cardinals of Holy Mount. I’m often referred to as… Alberto.”
The man bowed slightly. Dorothy nodded and spoke.
“You’re one of the Church’s senior cardinals. I’ve heard of you. You’re connected to the White Craftsmen’s Guild, aren’t you?”
“Yes, and very closely so. If the Secrets Cardinal represents the lingering influence of the Nation of Night within the Church, then I’m the Guild’s representative in the Church.”
Alberto’s voice was calm and deep. Dorothy raised her brow in mild surprise.
“A Guild representative? So you were originally from the Guild?”
“Correct. And I still haven’t completely severed ties with them. The identity of ‘Alberto’ has meaning in both factions—serving as a vital liaison between them. For the past few centuries, I’ve leaned more toward the Church, but recently… things have started to shift.”
Dorothy shook her head slightly.
“I knew there were close, covert links between the Guild and the Church, but I didn’t expect them to be this deep… So the Guild’s supposed neutrality was just for show from the beginning?”
“If you trace it back far enough, the Guild’s ties with the Church go back to sacred contracts predating the current era. The Guild’s image as a neutral force only emerged after the downfall of the Secret Trade Union. That’s when the Guild shifted from a purely craftsman association to one that combined artisanship and commerce. And as merchants, neutrality was better for business. That’s when they started drifting from the Church—shaping the image people have of them today.”
Alberto explained patiently, and Artcheli added.
“Merchants can only remain neutral if there’s long-term business to be done. But nowadays, evil gods and cults are getting more and more extreme, rushing to realize their grand designs and flip the table to remake the world. If they succeed, there’ll be no business left. Anyone with sense would know it’s time to drop the neutral mask and take real action.”
Hearing this, Dorothy asked Alberto again.
“You just said the Guild only adopted neutrality and commercialization after the Secret Trade Union fell… and now you’re planning to abandon that stance again. Who made this decision?”
“For a choice this significant, no one but the great World-Forging One, the Lord of the Forge, could decide on behalf of the Guild,” Alberto replied solemnly.
Dorothy’s curiosity deepened.
“So this is all the will of that God of Craftsman, huh? Then did they issue any warning about the Dark Gold Society’s recent movements? Is the Guild preparing any countermeasures?”
Alberto paused briefly, then slowly answered.
“Regrettably… no.
“To my knowledge, the Guild received a divine revelation after the Tivian calamity, prompting the decision to gradually abandon neutrality and commerce. But since then, no further revelations have come… The World-Forging One has not responded to any prayers from the Golden Triad.”
Hearing this, Dorothy furrowed her brow slightly and murmured.
“Since the Tivian divine disaster, huh…”
…
Time passed—Days after the Queen’s Coronation.
During the daytime in Tivian, fine snowflakes drifted down from the pale sky. While rooftops across the wide city were already dusted with white, the bustling streets below remained damp—no snow yet had the chance to accumulate.
On a quiet street in the eastern district, a black carriage drawn by two horses was steadily making its way forward. Inside the carriage, the space was roomy and luxuriously decorated. A small stove flickered with warm flames, bringing heat to the compartment. Dorothy, dressed in a simple black trench coat, sat amidst the aristocratic atmosphere, gazing out at the swiftly passing scenery.
“Ms. Mayschoss, here is your savings passbook, account certificate, and the key to your private vault. Most of the assets have already been liquidated and deposited into the newly opened account. The few invaluable treasures that couldn’t be priced were placed in the vault for your discretionary use.”
Seated across from her, Anna—dressed in a tea-colored padded winter dress—handed a sealed envelope toward Dorothy. Dorothy took it, didn’t open it, and simply ran her fingers over the hard contours inside.
“The total amount liquidated comes to 47,232 pounds. That doesn’t include the priceless treasures. If everything had been converted into cash, the total estimate would likely reach around 70,000 pounds.”
As Dorothy accepted the envelope, Anna added this summary. Dorothy raised an eyebrow and remarked.
“70,000 pounds… quite the figure. Just for renting a few abilities for a bit of time? The Commercial Gold divinity really does test the depths of one’s fortune…”
She murmured this while smiling at the envelope in her hands. Though wealth had become of limited use to her in her current state, a windfall like this still lifted one’s mood.
The Dark Coin Noble’s divine ability allowed the commodification of mystical powers—either for sale or rental. During Dorothy’s confrontation with Hafdar, all three of her core abilities had been forcefully rented by him.
Both purchases and rentals required actual payment. Based on how the Aurum Gargoyle had fought before, Dorothy had reason to believe that the Dark Coin Noble had to spend real money to activate his powers. The question was—where did that money go? Could it just vanish into the void? After the battle, Dorothy couldn’t shake that suspicion. She hadn’t received any "rent" herself.
But it turned out that rent did have to be paid. Roughly half an hour after the Dark Coin Noble and Hafdar retreated, just as Dorothy had returned home and was about to rest, a sudden inspiration struck. At her mental command, treasures of all kinds materialized in front of her, nearly flooding the room. She had to act fast to organize and store them before being buried.
The treasures mainly consisted of gold and silver coins, gemstones, and ornate metalworks, mixed with some artwork and asset certificates. The certificates all listed a fictitious identity—complete with forged documents so detailed they could legally reassign ownership of properties under local law.
Just as Dorothy was frantically sorting her loot, Anna urgently contacted her. The Solitary Cloud Palace was facing a “treasure disaster.” Apparently, Isabelle had made the same mistake as Dorothy by selecting an incorrect drop location. A deluge of treasure had filled the Queen’s bedchambers and overflowed into the hallways and gardens. Gold coins thundered down palace corridors like a flash flood, chasing shrieking maids—until dozens of palace guards finally used their powers to halt the chaos.
In the end, a group of mystic guards had to dig Isabelle out of the treasure mound. The newly crowned queen, having survived a divine assassin, had nearly been smothered to death by sheer wealth.
It turned out that although delayed, the payments owed by the Dark Coin Noble did eventually arrive—and the amounts were indeed astonishing.
Afterward, Dorothy entrusted her share of the loot to Anna for appraisal and liquidation. Although Anna was already overwhelmed with managing the mountain of wealth that had landed on Isabelle, she prioritized Dorothy’s request.
“After I entered my Divine Descent form, having risen to a rank above Apostle, the Dark Coin Noble's ability became ineffective on me. So the rental of my three core abilities ended there. Altogether, the rental period wasn’t long, yet he spent that much money in such a short time. Even Crimson-rank powers are expensive, huh…
“Roughly calculated, he spent over 20,000 pounds just to forcibly rent one of my Crimson abilities. But since the rental durations varied, I'd need to calculate each one precisely per second. Maybe his system doesn’t use strict time-to-cost ratios—maybe it’s more like a cab fare, where each ability has a “base fee.” Say, 25,000 pounds per hour, with a one-hour minimum or something…
“And it looks like the Dark Coin Noble’s payment method is quite classical—mostly gold, silver, gemstones, with a bit of artwork and property certificates. The certificates seem to be mystically altered so they fully transfer legal ownership. Maybe those hold more universally recognized value. Paper money, on the other hand, can turn to worthless scraps…”
Dorothy mused over this as she tucked the envelope away. Then she looked toward Anna with curiosity.
“By the way, how’s Isabelle’s pile of money coming along? Any idea of its approximate value yet?”
“Her Majesty’s payment is still far from being fully processed, Teacher. There’s simply too much treasure… None of it’s in paper form, and every item has to be checked for mystical hazards, verified, and appraised. We’ve already called in a large number of experts, but this enormous undertaking will take time.”
Anna sighed lightly as she reported. Compared to renting or buying Dorothy’s, Anna’s, or Artcheli’s powers, the price Dark Coin paid to rent the land of Tivian was astronomically higher. After all, it was not only a national capital but a spiritually charged region steeped in legal legitimacy and divine ties—larger than many provinces. The cost of forcibly renting it against its will must have been astronomical. Even now, Isabelle and Anna were struggling to handle the resulting avalanche of wealth.
They still didn’t know the final total, but the amount was certainly enough to impact Pritt’s entire national economy. Deciding how to use it would require serious consideration. Dumping that much wealth into the economy all at once could spark inflation. But if used wisely, Isabelle’s reign might begin with a powerful economic upswing.
“That really is a fortune… The Dark Gold Society must be the richest cult of all. Since they can directly convert mundane wealth into mystical combat resources, they’re extremely driven to hoard riches. Other cults or secret societies don’t benefit nearly as much from accumulating money—their goals often transcend wealth itself…
“The same applies to me now… Without the Commercial Gold divinity, ordinary riches—even mountains of them—aren’t much use. But fortunately, they didn’t just leave behind gold…”
As she pondered, Dorothy recalled the mystical items acquired during the recent battle.
The first: a pendant left by Hafdar—clearly an ancient relic of the First Dynasty of the Northern Tombs. Upon examination, Dorothy discovered its name: Book Tunnel. It could consume Revelation spirituality to temporarily transform the user into “data”—a kind of informational form suspended in the air, akin to dream-form or spirit-form projection. While this form didn’t grant invulnerability, it allowed one to suspend further physical damage and avert death even after sustaining fatal injury.
Another feature of data-ization was that instead of floating mid-air, the transformed person could be stored in carriers like books, paintings, telegrams—or even a person’s brain. Any medium dense enough in information could serve as a host. The data-form could then travel rapidly or hide safely in inconspicuous places. This was one of Hafdar’s trump cards for escape.
The second item: a wooden door left behind by the Dark Coin Noble—named Backdoor Gate. It could link itself to any ordinary door and become its reverse side.
Once the connection was established, no matter how far apart the two doors were, opening the Backdoor Gate would let one step out through the ordinary door—and vice versa. In effect, it enabled spatial travel. Only one ordinary door could be linked at a time. The connected door had to remain stationary, but the Backdoor Gate itself—as a mystical artifact—could be moved freely.
Hafdar and the Dark Coin Noble had used this door to escape. After fleeing, they destroyed their side of the ordinary door to sever the connection, preventing Dorothy from following. But as a result, the Backdoor Gate was left behind.
Thirdly—and most importantly—the item was the Dark Coin Noble’s ultimate life-preserving artifact: an inscriptionless bell.
Because it was a divine armament imbued with divinity, its specifications met the criteria of a deity-bestowed artifact. Dorothy was unable to appraise its name or determine all of its functions. She could only confirm that it contained a trace of the Stone divinity and possessed extraordinary defensive capabilities—so powerful, in fact, that it could withstand the beam and white wind of her divine descent for a significant amount of time. Regardless of its other potential functions, this immense durability alone made it the most valuable item she had acquired.
Originally, Dorothy had nearly destroyed this divine bell. By the time she recovered it, it was in a dilapidated and battered state. At first, she had planned to hand it over to the White Craftsmen’s Guild for repairs. However, after a single night, she discovered that the bell possessed a self-repair mechanism—it was slowly restoring itself. Because of that, she decided not to send it away and instead contacted Alberto and Aldrich to inform them of its existence and ask them to investigate its origin.
“Hafdar’s pendant is quite interesting—it might have more uses down the line. The Dark Coin Noble’s door has an impressive effect: aside from escaping, its convenience is clearly visible. And that divine bell? For someone like me who tends to stay behind the scenes, it’s the ideal survival tool. Once fully repaired, it could even take two hits from divine attacks.
“Although I lost the Golden Scepter during the ambush, the overall rewards turned out to be surprisingly rich. In addition to a vast amount of worldly wealth, I also gained powerful mystical items—one even a divine armament. As expected of the Dark Gold Society… this much loot just from surviving the fight. Imagine what they’d drop if they actually died…”
“Hafdar probably lost his curse abilities after returning to the Bewitching Path, so losing the Golden Scepter won’t matter too much. All in all, that ambush—Hafdar wanted to seize my divinity and retrieve Nephthys and the scepter. Meanwhile, the Dark Coin Noble tried to trick Isabelle into signing some kind of national-level contract… In the end, Hafdar partially achieved his goal, but the Dark Coin Noble took a complete loss. I wonder if the two of them will start arguing—or even fight—after returning. Hopefully they do.”
These were Dorothy’s thoughts as the carriage she sat in began to slow and finally came to a stop.
“We’ve arrived, Teacher.”
Anna spoke as she stood and opened the door for Dorothy. Dorothy put on her gloves, wrapped herself in a winter cloak, adjusted her formal hat, and stepped out. Snowflakes fluttered down, starkly visible against her black cloak. Before her stretched a sparse wooded area with a few scattered houses—clearly on the outskirts of the city.
“Miss Dorothy! Over here!”
A familiar voice called out. Dorothy looked toward it and saw Nephthys, dressed for winter but still stubbornly exposing her legs, waving from a nearby roadside. Dorothy smiled and turned to Anna, who had given her a ride.
“Thanks, Anna. You’ve got a lot on your plate, don’t you? Better hurry back.”
“No need to be so formal, Teacher…”
After sending Anna off and watching the carriage depart, Dorothy strolled leisurely to Nephthys’s side and asked quietly,
“All set?”
“Completely ready! Just waiting on you, Miss Dorothy.”
Nephthys replied eagerly. Hearing this, Dorothy nodded slightly and followed her forward.
After just a short walk, the two arrived at a small suburban villa. The courtyard was overgrown and desolate, clearly unused for a long time. Nephthys opened the iron gate on the perimeter wall and led Dorothy inside.
“This place was built after a graveyard was relocated. Apparently, a murder took place here—some distant relative murdered an entire family for inheritance. Don’t know the exact details, but it was haunted for quite a while. Even after the authorities cleaned it up, the spiritual atmosphere remained heavy. It’s a great place for rituals.”
Nephthys explained while guiding Dorothy through the courtyard. Dorothy asked curiously.
“How’d you even find out about this place?”
“Dragged up a bunch of old geezers from the cemetery when I was cramming homework. Overheard it while they were gossiping.”
With that, Nephthys pushed open the villa’s main door, and the two entered a dusty, cobweb-filled hall. At the center, a Silence ritual array had already been drawn. In the flickering candlelight around the formation, Dorothy saw a familiar spiritual figure—dressed in the military garb of North Ufiga’s ancient days. It was the stately warrior-king of Addus: Rachman.
“Divine Child…”
Rachman bowed solemnly to Dorothy. She nodded in return and spoke with equal gravity,
“Let’s begin without delay.”
“…Sorry, Grandpa. I have to look into your secrets now.”
Nephthys muttered as she stepped into the formation and sat cross-legged. Rachman’s soul descended and merged into the ritual. Nephthys quietly closed her eyes.
Seeing this, Dorothy retrieved an ancient goblet engraved with a skull from her magic box. With a light gesture, the Goblet of Nether Guidance floated into the air, hovering and rotating slowly before Nephthys, merging into the ongoing ritual.
For a long time, one question had haunted both Dorothy and Nephthys.
How exactly had Nephthys’s grandfather, Davis Boyle, gotten involved with Hafdar and drawn his unrelenting curse?
How had Davis obtained the Golden Scepter?
And what connection did that cursed scepter have to Nephthys’s grandmother?
What was the truth behind the shadow that loomed over the Boyle family?
In the past, Nephthys could only glean bits and pieces of clues from Davis’s writings. But now that Rachman had been liberated, another solution presented itself. By using Rachman as a spiritual medium and the Goblet of Nether Guidance as an aid, Nephthys could perform a bloodline retrospection ritual—allowing her to peer into the memories of her ancestors.
This method had occurred to both Dorothy and Nephthys long ago. But for various reasons, they hadn’t acted on it.
At first, Rachman’s spirit had been too weak after being freed from his unfilial descendants. He needed time to recover in the spiritual field of the Starfall Continent. By the time he’d mostly recovered, the Tivian Incident erupted. To uncover the truth behind the Wind King’s Rebellion 400 years ago, the ritual was instead performed on Misha.
At that time, Nephthys was still White Ash-rank and forced to push the Goblet to its limits to trace Misha’s bloodline back four centuries. The artifact sustained heavy damage and couldn’t be used again.
After arriving in the New Continent, the partially repaired Goblet was damaged again when it participated in Nephthys’s advancement ritual. So for a long while after, Dorothy chose to entrust it to the White Craftsmen’s Guild for proper restoration.
But when Hafdar reappeared, Dorothy suddenly realized the urgency of the matter. She quickly retrieved the Goblet to finally begin the long-delayed ritual.
Although the Goblet still wasn’t fully repaired, Nephthys’s current Crimson-rank status meant she could compensate for its limitations.
Had Hafdar not made his unexpected move, Dorothy had originally planned to wait for full restoration.
Now that everything was in place, Nephthys immediately began. Under the soft glow of the chalice, she drew upon Rachman’s spirit to channel his past strength. Her consciousness followed the threads of bloodline backward through time, and Dorothy too attuned herself to the informational flow—feeling everything Nephthys perceived.
And at last, Dorothy beheld the memories of someone she had never met before…
…
North Ufiga – The Desert Town of Kabbalah.
Under the blazing midday sun, the marketplace teemed with life. People bustled through the narrow aisles, their chatter and bartering rising into a deafening cacophony. Clouds of dust kicked up by camel hooves mingled with the already arid air, and the pervasive stench of manure made the heat almost unbearable.
“Damn place…”
Amid the crowd, Davis—just emerging from the backstreets—muttered under his breath. Wearing a headscarf and robe, he trudged forward, face set in irritation. The oppressive heat mixed with the reek of camel dung only worsened his already foul mood.
“Damn weather… damn luck… can’t stand this godforsaken place anymore…”
Still grumbling, Davis, a freelance treasure-hunter, hadn’t come across a new ruin lead in over half a year. With no sites to explore, he had been frequenting the black markets in the dark alleys, picking through junk for any item of value to flip to high-paying buyers—scraping by on small trades. But lately, maybe due to a run of terrible luck, he hadn’t found even one promising item.
“Hmph… those damn locals must be out to get me. I thought ignoring me was their limit, but they’re cutting me out entirely now… Bunch of bastards. Maybe it’s time I teach a few of them a lesson, then just pack up and leave…”
Squinting in the sunlight, Davis fumed internally. Though active in North Ufiga, he was originally from Pritt. His foreign background made him an outsider among the local scavengers. Things were easier when he was still part of a larger expedition team, but after going independent, the local network of treasure-hunters shut him out. No one would share leads anymore, and it had been a long while since he’d done any real excavation.
He’d spent years working in North Ufiga and had saved up a decent sum. Maybe it was finally time to retire, head back home, start a business, get married, and enjoy the rest of his life in peace.
With that thought floating in his mind, Davis decided to call it a day and head back. But just as he turned to leave, a clear, bell-like voice rang out.
“Mister, you look awfully troubled… Seems like misfortune’s taken a liking to you.”
Though the marketplace was loud and chaotic, this gentle voice pierced the din and reached Davis’s ears clearly. He paused, then glanced toward the voice. There on the roadside was a pristine white tent, a gossamer veil hanging at the entrance. Through it, a faint silhouette could be seen. Davis couldn’t make out the figure clearly, but he spotted the crystal ball gleaming in the sunlight.
A fortune teller, huh…
Davis scoffed inwardly. He had seen countless charlatans like this. As a Beyonder, he didn’t believe a single word of such tricks.
He knew that real divination came with a hefty price—it required Revelation spirituality to perform. Items containing that were some of the most coveted treasures one could unearth, priceless and universally valued. Outside of genuine mystical artifacts, nothing fetched a better price than Revelation spirituality.
Real divination consumed a bit of that each time. So there was no way some backstreet fortune-teller offering cheap readings to passersby was the real deal. They had to be frauds.
Convinced this was just another scam, Davis turned to leave, but the voice called out again.
“Mister, I sense your luck has taken a downturn… Why not come in? Perhaps I can offer a way to change your fortune…”
He’d been about to ignore it again, but at that moment, his sharp eyes caught sight of a few bulky figures weaving through the crowd ahead—people he recognized.
“Damn, that’s one of those faction leaders I tricked half a year ago. Definitely not someone I want trouble with right now…”
With that thought, Davis ducked into the tent.
Inside was a narrow space perfumed with incense. Dim lighting and thin fabric filtered the harsh sun. Seated cross-legged atop a rug was a veiled woman in silk robes, a crystal ball resting before her.
From what skin was visible, she was clearly a native of North Ufiga. Despite her modest attire, her figure was shapely, and her appearance—even with the veil—was strikingly beautiful. Her large eyes were mesmerizing. Davis, no stranger to brothels, could tell at a glance that this woman was a rare beauty.
A fortune-teller this pretty? That’s rare… It’s usually old hags…
“Welcome, good sir. Please, have a seat, and let me reveal your fate.”
Her voice was lilting and pleasant. Davis sat down, glancing cautiously toward the tent flap before speaking with a trace of arrogance.
“Alright then, let’s see what you’ve got.”
The fortune-telling began, and—just as Davis had expected—it was pure flimflam. Everything the woman said was vague and ambiguous, easy to interpret however one wished. Her insights came mostly from observing his mannerisms and reactions. Nothing she said was wrong, but none of it surprised him either.
Still, Davis hadn’t come for real prophecy. He was just lying low for a bit. So he didn’t raise a fuss. Once he figured enough time had passed for the danger to pass, he stood up to leave.
“Alright, alright, miss. You’re good at what you do. Very accurate. But I’ve got other things to do now. So, how much do I owe you?”
“That will be thirteen Sonals, sir.”
“Thirteen?! That much?”
“That includes the cost of the lucky charm I made personally—this isn’t just a fortune-telling fee.”
She held out a small handcrafted amulet, woven from dried grass in the shape of a flying bird. Though the materials were humble, the craftsmanship was exquisite.
It was a classic scam—offer a reading, then sell a trinket. Normally Davis would’ve given someone like this a proper scolding, but today was different. The charm, while simple, was beautifully made. It didn’t feel like a rip-off. And the “scammer” had a lovely voice and was probably a real beauty under that veil. No harm in showing a little generosity.
So Davis paid the fee and bought the charm. As he turned to leave the tent, he asked one more question.
“Mind telling me your name?”
“Fortune-teller… You may call me Fortune-teller. I devote myself to clearing the mists of fate for people like you, sir. May the gods bless you with better days.”
She smiled warmly. Davis paused for a moment, then exited the tent.
“…The gods, huh.”
…
Maybe the charm actually worked—or maybe his luck really was turning. Not long after leaving the tent, Davis had an unexpected stroke of fortune.
Passing by a stall where an old shepherd was selling goats, Davis’s sharp eyes noticed something odd: the axle of the man’s cart wasn’t wood—it was metal.
He quietly investigated and spotted inscriptions carved into the shaft. Excited, he quickly concluded it must be a fragment of some ceremonial relic.
Pretending to be a customer, he struck up a conversation. The deal was large, so the old shepherd was delighted, and Davis soon invited him for drinks at an underground tavern. After a few rounds, the man—drunk and talkative—revealed where he had found the metal axle.
Davis bought both the cart and the goats, then returned home and removed the axle for further inspection. Confirming that it was indeed an antique, he became even more excited.
…
“Boss, are you sure you want to go to Kharmaga Valley? I’ve never heard of any ruins or tombs out there…”
In Davis’s base of operations, the young scout Nust frowned as he heard the plan. Davis lounged in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, and responded.
“That’s exactly why I want to go. No reports mean no one's picked it clean yet. This could be my big score—no more wasted trips!”
He scowled at the memory of past sites looted before he arrived.
“But I’ve heard rumors… People vanish in Kharmaga Valley. Isn’t that a bit risky?”
“All the better if there’s strange phenomena! That just proves it’s not ordinary. I’m not scared. I’m White Ash, remember? Took me ten years to get here. A genius White Ash! I’ve seen plenty of weird shit. This’ll be nothing.”
Nust paused. He knew his employer wasn’t bluffing. Davis had indeed risen from a normal man to a White Ash-rank Beyonder in just ten years—a feat few could rival. Though cocky, Davis had earned his place in this chaotic land.
After months of inaction, Davis was clearly excited by this lead. Seeing his enthusiasm, Nust finally relented.
“…Alright. I’ll arrange the crew, hire mercenaries, and prep the team.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Davis smiled. Then, after a moment’s thought, he added.
“Oh, and Nust—you’re not coming this time.”
“…I’m not going? Why not, boss?!”
Davis explained gently.
“You know how it is. I’ve built up a little wealth, and there are plenty of thieves eyeing it. I need someone I trust to stay behind and guard the place. If no one reliable’s watching things, I won’t rest easy.”
“I see… But boss, if you’re going alone—”
“I’m not going alone. You’re putting together a team for me, aren’t you? Besides, I’m White Ash. Whatever trouble we run into, I can handle it. You just focus on holding down the fort.”
Davis’s tone was reassuring. Nust let out a sigh.
“…Alright then. But boss—stay safe out there.”
…
Several days later, on a hazy morning, Davis departed with his team.