In the depths of the desert, where dry winds carried sand and dust through the edge of the civilized world—a land harsh to life itself—a long caravan was steadily marching forward.
Under the blazing sun, the long camel train crossed the rolling dunes with unwavering steps. Numerous in number, the camels carried all manner of large and small bundles. The supplies and gear strapped to their backs showed this team had come well-prepared and thoroughly equipped.
“Sir, just ahead is Kharmaga Valley!”
At the front of the convoy, an aged guide riding atop a camel pointed into the distance and called out loudly. Beside him, a man wearing a turban and robe took a swig from his canteen. After drinking, he fastened it back to his waist and looked toward the distant mountains indicated by the guide—distorted shapes shimmered in the scorching haze.
“What a gods-forsaken place… took way longer to get here than I expected…”
Staring out at the view, Davis couldn’t help but mutter. He also felt a rising sense of doubt. Kharmaga Valley was located in an extremely remote no-man’s-land, far beyond the reach of civilization. There were no signs of human activity for miles. So how had that shepherd—who claimed to have found a relic—made it out here? Without full supplies, coming to a place like this meant certain death on the return trip.
Davis thought about it and was thankful for how thoroughly he had prepared. In a place like this, his current provisions should last at least a week.
“Excluding what we need for the return trip, we’ll probably only have about a week’s worth left once we reach the site… That’s less than I hoped. Let’s pray there’s something worth digging up—or this’ll be a serious loss…”
Davis glanced back at the team and barked out an order.
“Pick up the pace. I want us in the mountains by this afternoon. We’ll get a good rest tonight.”
At his command, the long camel caravan picked up speed, moving toward their destination. Davis tugged his reins and followed close behind.
“Here’s hoping this trip pays off. Once this is over, I’m heading back to Pritt. Anyone who wants to stay in this hellhole can go right ahead.”
With boundless expectations for the journey ahead, Davis marched onward with his team. He hoped this would be the perfect closing chapter to his bumpy career in North Ufiga.
But what awaited him… was far beyond anything he had anticipated.
…
The sun scorched the barren land, where even weeds dared not grow. In the heart of the desert, towering mountains rose from the sands. Other than jagged cliffs and bizarre stone formations, there was no sign of life—except for one expedition team, which, within days of entering the valley, had been utterly consumed by the unforgiving silence.
Deep within the thick rock layers of the mountains—inside an ancient ruin abandoned for countless millennia—one figure now fled frantically down a dark corridor. In panic and terror, Davis Boyle sprinted at inhuman speed, blood trailing behind him.
“Haah… haah… dammit… even that place had a trap… and a soul-snaring mirror at that!”
Panting heavily, treasure-hunter Davis was fleeing in a panic, clutching a deep gash in his abdomen. Despite the searing pain that twisted his face, he forced himself to maintain his speed. His footsteps echoed through the corridor as the soft scraping of something inhuman followed relentlessly behind.
He grit his teeth and pressed forward, knowing that stopping meant death. Only someone like him—a Chalice-auxiliary Beyonder—could keep running after taking such a wound. A normal person would’ve collapsed long ago.
But even for him, what chased from behind was far beyond anything he could face directly…
After arriving in Kharmaga Valley, Davis had his crew set up camp. Following a night of rest, they began their expedition into the desolate mountain basin.
With over a decade of field experience, Davis carefully scouted for traces of lost civilization or ancient tombs. After three days of searching, he found it—an entrance to a temple.
Carved directly into the mountain, the temple’s exterior had collapsed—likely due to an earthquake or some other force. The ancient reliefs and gates lay in rubble. Davis, however, noticed something off in the way the stones had fallen. Upon closer inspection and locating a shattered carving, he confirmed this was no natural cave-in.
Excited, Davis immediately began work. Time was short, so rather than clear all the debris, he identified part of the cliff wall as an outer temple structure and blasted it open with explosives, creating a passageway for the team to enter.
On the first day, they struck gold—shallow excavation yielded many valuable ceremonial items, and dangers encountered were quickly resolved thanks to Davis’s expertise. But things changed on the second day, when they delved deeper into the temple.
Traps… undead… curses… The deeper they went, the more disasters piled up. Though Davis had faced such threats before, never had they all appeared at once—and never this intensely. Some traps defied even his understanding.
Falling boulders and hidden arrow traps impaled or crushed several crew members. Hordes of reawakened undead surged from tombs, wielding broken weapons and slaughtering the intruders. Davis’s stock of spirit-repelling sigils quickly ran out. Some specters were so strong they rivaled ordinary Beyonders.
But the deadliest killers weren’t traps or monsters—they were the curse-triggered traps.
Davis had never seen such a dense concentration of deadly curses. Many crew members died instantly upon stepping into certain halls or corridors—silent deaths by invisible forces. His team, already worn down by the undead and mechanical traps, completely collapsed under the curse barrage. Discipline broke. They fled in chaos. Davis tried to rally them but failed. Those who tried to escape vanished into the darkness of the temple, never to return.
Eventually, Davis was the only one left in the depths.
While attempting to escape, he was spotted by a pack of savage undead. During the ensuing chase, he triggered a rare trap: a soul-snaring mirror. It forcibly stripped away the souls of anyone caught in its reflection.
Davis had encountered such things before—but never one so powerful. Even his White Ash-rank Silence domain abilities were nearly overwhelmed.
Fortunately, he was a Body Possession Path Beyonder. With multiple souls within him, he barely survived after having several forcibly taken. By relying on his last soul—the spirit of a clouded leopard—he managed to escape the undead pursuit. But during the escape, he was sliced by a blade trap. He activated a rapid-healing sigil, but the blade had been coated in a toxin that dulled the sigil’s effect.
Grimacing through immense pain, Davis fled deeper into the labyrinthine ruins, silently praying he wouldn’t trigger any more curses. Perhaps the gods answered him—he managed to avoid every curse thereafter. No more traps activated either. Only the undead pursued him now.
“Why… why is this temple so deadly?! I’ve never seen curses and undead this dense. Just what the hell was this place used for?!”
As he ran, the refined stone corridor began to shift into rough, unshaped cavern walls. Davis’s heart surged with hope.
The temple corridor had become a cave. That meant he had exited the man-made structure—he was leaving the temple proper. Now he just had to lose the undead.
But his situation remained dire. His abdominal wound—a fatal injury for a normal man—was still bleeding due to the poison slowing his regeneration. His physical condition was deteriorating fast. His breathing became labored, and his vision started to blur.
“Just a little more—hold on a little longer!”
Gritting his teeth, Davis forced his body to keep going. After a while, the tunnel opened into a wider chamber. At some point, the wall to his left disappeared, replaced by a yawning abyss.
He ignored the environmental shift and kept pushing forward. Despite forcing himself, his speed continued to drop. He could hear the shuffling of the undead growing louder behind him.
“Faster!”
Eyes wide, Davis pushed his body to its limit—but then his foot gave out, his body tilted, and he stumbled left—plunging into the abyss.
“Shit…!”
Terror seized him as he fell into the darkness. He screamed. Wind howled around him.
And then—he hit water.
Cold and enveloping, it swallowed him whole. The fall gave way to sinking.
“Water? An underground river?!”
Struggling to survive, Davis steadied himself and floated up. Lying on his back, he let the current carry him.
Fighting off unconsciousness, Davis clung to awareness. He kept breathing. Kept floating. In the freezing water, he mentally repeated the names of every god he knew. More than in his entire life combined.
Finally—he saw light ahead.
Hope surged in his chest. Davis was carried out of the cave by the river.
And immediately, that hope crashed down.
Before him was a towering waterfall.
Davis plummeted.
Just before losing consciousness, he glimpsed a scene that would stay with him forever.
A green forest.
Vibrant. Alive. Nothing like the barren desert.
Amidst the trees stood ancient buildings, birds soaring overhead, waterfalls cascading down cliffs.
At the heart of the forested city, a grand temple towered, bearing clear markers of ancient North Ufigan style.
Majestic. Sacred. Timeless.
“Is this…”
And then he blacked out—falling into darkness and water.
…
Several days later.
Within the verdant forest, atop the roof of a weathered stone structure, in a loft-like room, Davis—who had survived the calamity—was now sitting cross-legged on the sturdy wooden floor.
Wearing only a pair of trousers and thick bandages wrapped around his bare torso, he gazed through the open window at the distant mountain walls that loomed like city ramparts, and at the waterfall cascading from a cliffside cave.
“I really didn’t expect… that in the middle of a godforsaken desert, a place like this could exist… So this is the secret hidden within Kharmaga Valley?
“An entire city of the First Dynasty…”
As he stared out at the scenery, Davis silently reflected. The place he now found himself in was a massive, enclosed oasis surrounded by towering mountains—within which sat a remarkably well-preserved ancient city of North Ufiga. For Davis, a tomb raider by trade, this was the largest relic site he had ever laid eyes on.
“It’s probably because of this place’s existence that the temple back there was so deadly… makes sense now. To have made it out of there alive... I was damn lucky.”
Lowering his gaze to his bandaged wounds, Davis couldn’t help but sigh in his heart. Just then, a noise echoed in the otherwise silent room. He looked over and saw the floor hatch rattling nearby.
On guard, Davis immediately gripped a dagger at his side and fixed his eyes on the hatch with cautious intensity. Only when the hatch opened and a graceful figure emerged did he exhale in relief.
“How are you feeling today, Da—uh… Dawis?”
A woman with bronze ornaments, dark skin, a white dress, and refined features—her black hair cascading freely—emerged from the hatch holding a basket. She looked over at Davis and, in slightly awkward pronunciation, addressed him with concern. Davis’s face relaxed completely and lit up with a bright grin.
“Much better! Way better! Just seeing you each day makes my wounds heal faster, Nephthina…”
Beaming with joy, Davis replied in an openly flirtatious tone. Nephthina smiled softly in return.
“If that’s the case, then maybe I should stop by more than once a day… Here, I brought your lunch. I had to take a detour because of the death guards, so I hope it hasn’t gone cold.”
As she spoke, Nephthina walked over, knelt beside him, and began placing the food from her basket before him. Davis helped while stealing glances at her face from the corner of his eye.
After Davis had fallen from the waterfall into the pool, he’d lost consciousness from the impact and continued drifting on the water’s surface. It was Nephthina who had saved him.
She had been doing laundry at the pool when she saw his body. Initially, she thought it was a corpse—but after checking and realizing he was still alive, she immediately rescued him, fearing he might be eaten by crocodiles.
When Davis awoke, the first thing he saw was Nephthina tending to his wounds. After the initial confusion wore off, he tried to communicate, only to realize they didn’t speak the same language. Fortunately, as a Silence Beyonder, Davis was capable of using the soul-speech.
Though as a White Ash-rank Silence Beyonder, communicating with the living via soul speech was usually limited to conveying simple ideas, for some reason Davis found his ability unusually fluent after waking from his coma—enough to converse freely with Nephthina. She, too, found it incredibly curious.
Through their exchanges, Davis learned her name and some basic facts about this place. It turned out that this valley was called Secret Tears Isle—a secluded land completely cut off from the outside world. Nephthina was one of its native inhabitants. She, in turn, was fascinated to meet someone from the “outside world.”
From what Davis could gather, Nephthina had lived in Secret Tears Isle her whole life. She had never once left, nor did she know what the outside world was like or whether other humans even existed. Her entire family and community were the same—generations of people born and raised in isolation.
“The ocean… deserts… ships… carriages… cities with tens of thousands of people living together… The outside world has so many things! I never knew! It all sounds so amazing!”
Nephthina exclaimed with wonder as she listened to Davis speak while they ate together. Davis chuckled.
“To me, it’s this place—Secret Tears Isle—and your people that are truly fascinating. An ancient hidden land, home to an ancient people, living untouched by the world for millennia… I’ve spent over ten years in North Ufiga and never even scratched the surface of this secret.”
Taking another bite of his flatbread, Davis glanced out the window.
“Tina, I think my wounds are mostly healed. Mind if I go out for a walk?”
“Mostly healed? But I saw your injuries before—they were bad enough to kill someone! And now you’re telling me you’re fine after just a few days? Are all outsiders like you this tough?”
Nephthina raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. Davis laughed.
“No, no… it’s not that all outsiders are special—just me.”
He then offered a brief, simple explanation, which Nephthina listened to with half-understood curiosity. From this conversation, Davis deduced that although the people here had some mystical knowledge, they lacked any systematic understanding of the Beyonder paths or spirituality. Nephthina herself didn’t appear to be a Beyonder.
Eventually, after reassuring her he truly was fine, Davis was permitted to leave the room he’d been recovering in. Donning a set of local robes and a turban prepared by Nephthina, he stepped outside with her at his side.
He began exploring and observing this hidden land more carefully. The buildings here were massive—not just compared to poor towns in North Ufiga, but even larger than most structures in his hometown of Pritt.
However, despite their grandeur, many of the outer buildings were abandoned—overgrown with vines and trees. Only structures near the city’s center showed signs of regular use.
Secret Tears Isle was vast, but sparsely populated. Most people lived in the central district surrounding a great temple. Nephthina wanted to take Davis to the bustling marketplace there, but when they saw skeleton soldiers patrolling the streets, she changed her mind and led him elsewhere.
“Are those… undead? You people actually use the undead as guards here?”
Davis asked, clearly tense. Nephthina shook her head.
“They’re not our guards. They’re the enforcers of the Death Elder—his claws of control. They’re dangerous and merciless. I don’t know whether they’d welcome an outsider like you… It’s best if we stay far away.”
She whispered this to Davis as she led him in the opposite direction. Davis asked with curiosity.
“Death Elder? That sounds like an undead name. You mean this place has been ruled by an undead being for thousands of years?”
“No… According to the elders, the Death Elder is indeed undead, but he hasn’t always ruled here. Our community used to be governed by a council of elders. The Death Elder only came here fifty years ago.”
As they walked toward the outskirts, Nephthina continued. Davis was even more intrigued.
“Only fifty years ago? So an outsider undead decided to settle down and rule over the living? That’s… oddly specific.”
“Ruling? I’m not sure that’s the right word.”
Nephthina replied thoughtfully.
“Not the right word? How so?”
“Well… from what I understand, the Death Elder doesn’t care about ruling. Though he used his power to conquer this place, he barely involves himself in governance. Daily affairs are still handled by the elders we elect. He’s not even around most of the time. His influence only extends to two things: One, he made us worship a god called Heaven’s Arbiter. Two, every few years, he selects a group of young people and takes them away.”
Her voice had grown more serious. Davis was surprised.
“He made you worship Heaven’s Arbiter… So you didn’t know about that deity before?”
That shocked Davis. He had assumed the people of Secret Tears Isle were descendants of the First Dynasty—preserving their traditions in seclusion. Yet they had never heard of Heaven’s Arbiter, a deity central to First Dynasty faith. Every ancient tomb Davis had ever explored contained symbols or records of that god—how could they not?
Suddenly, it hit him.
The temple he had explored before arriving here… had no signs of Heaven’s Arbiter. Even the ceremonial artifacts lacked any reference. That was extremely unusual compared to other First Dynasty ruins. And now, here in this vast, intact ancient city—he had yet to see any trace of that deity.
“Mm… The elders say that before the Death Elder came, we worshipped a god called the God of Insight—a deity of knowledge and wisdom. When the Death Elder arrived, he claimed that this Insight God’s true name was Heaven’s Arbiter, and that He was the god of wisdom and knowledge. He taught us how to worship Him correctly, and so we have followed his teachings since.”
Nephthina explained seriously. Davis nodded, deep in thought, and asked.
“You also said the Death Elder selects young people to take away?”
“Yes. To be precise, it happens every seven years. The Death Elder personally selects them from among us and brings them to the Grand Temple. They never return. This is called the Heaven’s Calling. He says they serve the Heaven’s Arbiter forever and achieve transcendence. But we’re still terrified of it. No parent wants their child chosen.”
Her tone had grown somber. Davis, worried, asked.
“And you? Are you—”
“Don’t worry about me! The Heaven’s Calling is in ten days, but the selection already happened. I was lucky—I wasn’t chosen. Dodged a bullet, I guess.”
She smiled as she said it, and Davis let out a breath of relief.
…
In the days that followed, Davis, now free to move around Secret Tears Isle, began covertly exploring in hopes of finding a way out. But it proved difficult.
Secret Tears Isle was surrounded on all sides by sheer, impassable cliffs. There was no visible path to the outside world. While Davis had the ability to scale those cliffs barehanded, doing so would be far too conspicuous. If spotted by patrolling undead guards, he’d be in serious trouble.
Moreover, after spending time with her, Davis found himself reluctant to leave Nephthina—the kind, gentle, and beautiful young woman who had taken care of him. He wanted to take her with him. And for that, he needed a safer exit route.
One day, Davis waited in his temporary camp, hopeful that Nephthina would arrive with his meal as usual. He intended to take the chance to ask her to come away with him.
But time passed… and she didn’t come.
As the wait dragged on far past her usual arrival time, Davis realized something wasn’t right.
He quickly disguised himself and slipped into the city, asking around discreetly. Finally, at a shop where Nephthina had made past purchases, he uncovered shocking news.
One of the young people chosen for the Heaven’s Calling had tried to flee out of fear. A pursuit was launched—but during the escape, the youth fell and died. As a result, a replacement had to be chosen.
And the unfortunate replacement… was Nephthina.
The news stunned Davis.
He knew how deeply feared the Heaven’s Calling was among the locals. If Nephthina went, she would never return.
Davis was torn. She had saved him. He liked her. He even considered taking her away with him. But when it came down to it… this wasn’t his problem. There was no reason for him to risk his life for something that had nothing to do with him.
A survivor of more than ten years in the desert, Davis had learned to weigh profit and risk instinctively. It wasn’t in his nature to get involved without benefit. Yet… he couldn’t let go of Nephthina so easily.
Struggling with his conscience, he slowly approached the city’s central Grand Temple.
He planned to scope it out up close and assess the risk of infiltration. Then, based on what he found, he’d decide whether or not to act. But before he could think it through, an uprising erupted nearby—sparked by the tragic death of the chosen youth. The undead guards rushed to suppress it, leaving a gap in the perimeter.
Seeing the opportunity, Davis’s instincts took over.
Before he realized it, he had already infiltrated the temple.
Nerves ran high—he hadn’t meant to do it. But now that he was in, there was no turning back.
And somehow… luck continued to favor him.
Though he encountered multiple groups of undead guards, each time something unexpected happened—wild animals bursting in, spiritual disturbances flaring up—providing perfect distractions. Davis slipped past layer after layer of guards without being noticed. He triggered no traps, no wards. Whether by luck or fate, he made it all the way to the temple’s heart: The Ritual Hall.
He hid in the high rafters and looked down on the scene below.
What he saw was a ritual in progress.
At the center of the vast hall stood a high altar, upon which a complex arcane array had been inscribed—its core marked with the image of an open eye. A golden scepter was planted in its center.
Kneeling around the formation were three young priests in ornate ceremonial robes. Floating above them was a withered black mummy, adorned with golden jewelry and draped in voluminous robes. Its hollow eyes burned with ghostly fire as it looked down with chilling indifference.
The three priests were chanting frantically, their eyes glazed. Every word from their mouths echoed a single name.
The Heaven’s Arbiter.
“O Great Lord of Wisdom… First Revealer… Ruler of Thunder…
Hear our call…
In accordance with the ancestors’ pact… bound by fate…
In the name of the sageborn, we summon Thee…
Awaken from Your ancient slumber upon the throne of destiny…”
The young priests, in a trance-like daze, prayed faster and faster, clearly trying to summon something—but with no visible effect. The mummy began to grow impatient.
“Overload your minds. Burn your wills. Accelerate—”
Holding an ancient metal disk, the black mummy gave a cold command. The three priests suddenly widened their eyes, and their chanting quickened into a blur—words pouring out like a machine gun, impossible to discern.
Amid the deluge of words, Davis saw a faint spatial distortion forming above the golden scepter—like ripples in air.
Then— BOOM .
The three priests’ heads exploded.
A spray of blood and brain matter splattered across the hall. Disgusted, Davis instinctively covered his mouth.
“Next group!”
Unmoved, the mummy gave the order. Undead guards dragged away the corpses, and three more vacant-eyed youths stepped up to kneel in the bloodied array and begin their chant.
“…Tina…”
Davis spotted her.
Among those standing and waiting below the altar, he saw Nephthina, her expression vacant, staring at the golden scepter. She was waiting her turn.
Now that he had come this far, all hesitation vanished.
Davis had made up his mind—he was going to save her.
But how?
“That black mummy… is that the so-called Death Elder? He looks powerful. No way I’m getting her out with him watching. I’ll have to disrupt the ritual somehow…
“Big rituals like this usually have consequences when interrupted. I don’t know what this one does, but hopefully the backlash is serious enough…”
As Davis observed, he noticed another smaller array to the north side of the altar. It was etched with a crescent moon design, and a black jade object floated at its center.
“That… that’s a Shadow array? Is this Revelation ritual also linked to Shadow? Are both arrays part of the same rite? That mummy seems more focused on the Revelation array…”
While Davis analyzed the scene, the second group of priests met the same grisly fate—their heads bursting as the spatial distortion deepened, beginning to resemble a hole, or perhaps a gate.
“The Path to the Divine Throne… It’s forming! At last… Decades of effort weren’t in vain! Continue! We will awaken the slumbering Divine Mentor!”
The mummy’s voice trembled with excitement as he called for the next sacrifices.
At that moment, Nephthina and two other youths began ascending the bloodied steps.
“Now or never.”
Davis made his move.
From his pouch, he retrieved a metal block, fastened it to his makeshift sling, spun it in a rapid arc—and hurled it with all his strength. His target: the golden scepter at the center of the Revelation array—the most valuable-looking object in the room.
But mid-flight, the mummy reacted.
With a flicker of thought, one of the undead guards swung its spear, striking the projectile with a sharp “clang” and sending it flying.
“An intruder?! How did they get in?”
The black mummy was stunned. He had placed countless wards. How had someone slipped through?
“Shit…”
Seeing things unravel, Davis prepared to flee. But the mummy raised a desiccated hand—and Davis suddenly felt invisible force clutch his throat. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move.
But then—
The deflected metal block, propelled with too much force, ricocheted off a wall, struck several beams, and bounced back… finally landing at the Shadow array—knocking the floating black jade loose.
The array collapsed instantly.
And in that exact moment, three dark shadows rose from the surrounding gloom and shot toward the mummy at lightning speed.
The Death Elder froze for a moment—then his arm was severed mid-spell.
“The Silent Brotherhood?! You decrepit relics dare meddle here?!”
Furious, the mummy bellowed. He manipulated his severed arm in midair and hurled curses toward the shadows. The undead guards swarmed in response.
The battle had begun.
At that very moment, Davis, in the midst of chaos, fell from the rafters and crashed heavily onto the ground. Struggling to his feet, he didn’t fully grasp the situation, but he knew one thing: the terrifying Death Elder had been pinned down. He had to seize this chance.
“Tina! Wake up, Tina!”
He rushed onto the platform and grabbed Nephthina’s hand, trying to snap her out of her daze. But she remained motionless, staring blankly at the golden scepter before her. Seeing this, Davis immediately yanked the golden scepter out from the center of the ritual circle.
In an instant, clarity returned to the eyes of all the young priests atop the platform, Nephthina included.
“Wh… where am I?”
“It’s filthy… and disgusting!”
“Davis… you… why are you here?!”
Nephthina looked at him in surprise. Davis, clutching her hand, dragged her down the steps as quickly as he could. And true to his thieving nature, once that golden scepter was in his hand, he had no intention of letting it go.
“You damn thief! Don’t think you can escape!”
The black mummy, still locked in battle with the shadows, saw what happened and tried to unleash a death gaze at Davis—but the flame in its hollow eyes was instantly snuffed out by a shadowy strike. Roaring in rage, it commanded its yet-unengaged undead soldiers.
“Stop them!”
Hoisting Nephthina onto his back, Davis bolted from the ritual hall and dashed through the vast temple. Behind him, countless undead gave chase. Spears and arrows flew toward him, but none hit their mark.
Dashing blindly through the maze-like corridors, Davis twisted and turned down unfamiliar paths, yet—miraculously—he avoided every trap and evaded every pursuer. Eventually, he reached a stairwell and began a wild descent deeper and deeper, until the temple gave way to natural rock formations.
The moment triggered a vivid memory: nearly a month ago, he had fled through a similar temple while being chased by undead. This scene felt like a perfect replay… and if it truly was, there should be one sliver of hope ahead.
After all the absurd luck he’d experienced, Davis clung to that thought—until he saw a cliff’s edge beside the tunnel path.
“Trust me, Tina. Hold on tight…”
“Mm…”
Whispering to the girl clinging to his back, Davis gritted his teeth and leapt off the cliff into darkness—then plunged into the icy, bone-chilling waters of an underground river that drenched him once again.
The water seized him in its current and carried him toward the unknown…
…
“Achoo!”
When Davis next awoke from unconsciousness, the first thing he did was sneeze violently and bolt upright.
Wiping his face, still foggy-headed, he shook himself back to clarity and took in his surroundings. To his surprise, his previously soaked clothes were now dry, and the air around him was warm and comforting.
He was in a small cave. On his left, the underground river flowed steadily. On his right, a fire crackled gently. Nephthina lay beside it, unconscious but safe.
“Tina… Tina…”
Weakly, Davis crawled to her side to check her condition—when a soft, familiar woman’s voice echoed through the cave.
“She’s fine… just not as resilient as you, Mr. Chalice-auxiliary Beyonder. She’ll wake in a bit—just let her rest.”
The voice made Davis freeze. He turned his head and saw her: a beautiful woman from North Ufiga, dressed in fine silk, her face veiled. She was seated cross-legged beside the fire, absently stroking the shaft of the golden scepter resting across her lap.
“It’s you…”
Davis stared at her in astonishment. She was the same woman who had told his fortune in that market town nearly two months ago!
“Long time no see, Mr. Boyle. That luck charm I gave you worked well, didn’t it? One of my prized pieces, you know~”
Smiling at him, the woman lifted her eyes. Davis, realizing something, began searching himself until he found it: the bird-shaped amulet she had given him—now shattered into pieces.
“So it was true… that ridiculous string of luck I had inside Secret Tears Isle—that was your doing… No, more precisely, you’re the one who sent me into that place!”
Agitated, Davis pointed at her, but the woman calmly replied.
“Now, now, Mr. Boyle. You just woke up. Try to rest.”
“Why… Why did you do all this?!”
“Why? Isn’t it obvious? To stop a madman from pursuing his deluded experiment to the bitter end. He refuses to believe that the deity once seated on that divine throne has truly fallen. So he insists on forcing a ‘revival’… not realizing that an empty throne, even when sealed away, can be dangerously volatile when tampered with. He’s been doing this for thousands of years, pushing things closer to disaster. This time, it was far too dangerous to ignore…”
Her voice was soft, almost regretful. Davis frowned in confusion.
“An empty divine throne… sealed away… What does that even mea—ugh!”
A sharp headache cut off his question. The woman offered an apologetic smile.
“Ah… I said a little too much. Forbidden knowledge tends to do that. In any case, Mr. Boyle, you’re not ready to understand the full truth. I’m sorry, but I can’t reveal more.”
“You… you used me…”
Davis growled, clutching his head.
She shrugged.
“That’s one way of looking at it. But you gained something from all this too, didn’t you?”
Her gaze drifted toward the sleeping Nephthina. Davis swallowed hard.
“Was meeting Tina… also part of your plan?”
“Oh, no. The good fortune I gave you ensured someone would come to your aid, but who exactly—that I couldn’t say. The bond between you two… perhaps that was fate working on a deeper level.”
She smiled mysteriously, and Davis couldn’t tell how much of her story was true, how much false.
“If you still feel shortchanged, here—take this map. It marks the location of an untouched relic site from the ancient Holy Dynasty. Lots of treasure inside, and no deadly traps. Think of it as my payment to you. If you’re still willing to trust me, go have a look~”
She set a rolled parchment on the ground, then—under Davis’s wary gaze—picked up the golden scepter again.
“That Hafdar is incredibly petty. You stole both a vital relic and a sacrificial subject from right under his nose—he won’t forgive you. I suggest you loot that site quickly, then get out of North Ufiga. Go back to your own country.
“It won’t take long for Hafdar to sniff your name out from the relic thieves’ circles. His curse is potent—it’ll reach you and your family. Fortunately, this relic can resist his curse. Take it with you. I’ve written instructions on the back of the map.”
As she spoke, she rose to her feet and set the golden scepter down. Then she walked to the riverbank.
“Follow the river this way. Half a day’s walk for an ordinary person will get you back to the outside world. Wait until she wakes up—then go. I’ll take my leave now.”
As she turned to leave, Davis couldn’t hold back.
“Who are you, really?!”
“Me? Didn’t I already tell you? Just a fortune-teller…”
And with that, the seer stepped into the darkness—and vanished from Davis’s sight.
…
“Whew…”
In a rundown house on the outskirts of East Tivian, Dorothy slowly exhaled. Through Nephthys’s vision, she had just witnessed Davis Boyle’s memories—and her thoughts were swirling.
“Divine Throne… Awakening… Stimulation…
“According to Viagetta, a deity consists not only of divinity but also of a “divine throne.” When a god falls, their throne begins gathering divine essence again, eventually giving rise to a new proto-god… one that will compete for divinity alongside related avatars.
“Viagetta once sealed the throne of the Revelation deity using special means for over seven thousand years. But about a year ago, after I inherited her divinity, the seal failed—and the throne regained its ability to generate a new godling.
“In theory, this process should take at least a hundred years. But Hafdar has spent millennia trying to link to, summon, and stimulate the throne. All of that pressure, once the seal lifted, exploded into overdrive…
“In just a short time, Hafdar’s centuries of work allowed the Revelation throne to birth a new godling…
“One that now calls itself… Heaven’s Arbiter.”