So, after all that rambling, you don't know anything?" Castorice thought, stifling her irritation. No wonder you didn't mind sharing information with me—you couldn't possibly care when you're completely clueless!
Castorice took a deep breath, trying to calm her rising frustration. If she weren't so committed to maintaining her composed persona, she would have snapped at him by now.
Nathaniel continued, "Though I know nothing about Heroes or Divine Artifacts, I've lived in this city for over a decade and understand its secrets. I know a place where you might find the information you seek."
Castorice raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
If Nathaniel hadn't been holding another man in his arms, Castorice would have suspected he was deliberately teasing her. Why did he speak in such disjointed sentences? Couldn't he just get to the point?
"As you're new to the city," Nathaniel explained, "you might not be aware of the two inexplicable phenomena that plague this place."
"What are they?" Castorice asked, seizing the opportunity.
Nathaniel explained, "They're called 'Divine Concealment' and 'Extreme Cold.' With Divine Concealment, anything in this city can vanish without warning, at any time, in any place."
He gestured to the weapon rack beside him. "This is a barracks filled with brand-new, unused weapons. That's why I chose this place as my stronghold. But in the past two years alone, I've experienced weapons disappearing at least three times. One incident nearly cost me my life."
"Aside from that, I've lost count of the times my chair vanished while I was sitting down, or a wall of a nearby building suddenly disappeared while I was walking past, causing the entire structure to collapse onto me. I've survived these incidents because of my strength, but many others in Chaos City have died because of this Divine Concealment phenomenon."
Castorice listened with a puzzled expression. Nathaniel's account gave her an unsettling "Final Destination" vibe. "Does it only affect inanimate objects?" she asked. "And does their disappearance often lead to other dangers?"
Nathaniel stroked his chin. "It's probably just objects that disappear. At least, I've never heard of anyone vanishing into thin air. As for the dangers that accompany these disappearances, are you suggesting this phenomenon is being deliberately controlled by some entity to kill us? An intriguing idea, but I doubt it. I believe Divine Concealment is purely random."
He continued, "The other phenomenon, the Extreme Cold, is a bizarre occurrence that appears sporadically. At times, blue mists will form in the sky. Any area enveloped by this mist becomes lethally cold. You must immediately seek shelter far away. If you're exposed to it, you'll turn into an ice sculpture within seconds."
"Now, I know a place where both Divine Concealment and Extreme Cold occur with alarming frequency. Could this be related to the Hero and Divine Artifacts you mentioned?"
The idea seemed plausible. These two strange phenomena Nathaniel described defied ordinary explanation. But if they were effects of Divine Artifacts, perhaps they could be understood?
Could it be that there were two Divine Artifacts hidden within this city?
Castorice asked, "Where is this place?"
Nathaniel pointed to the window behind him. "Head straight out of the barracks, cross the city's main square, and you'll see the ruins of a collapsed inn on your left. There's a cellar entrance there—go inside, and you'll find it. But listen, lass, I have to warn you: anything you're carrying will vanish the moment you step inside, and the place is often filled with blue mist. Are you sure you want to go?"
Castorice nodded firmly. "Of course."
Nathaniel asked, "I can tell you're not one of the criminals exiled here by the Alliance. Just indulge my curiosity—what brings you to this place?"
Castorice paused, then declared with unnerving calm, as if stating a simple fact, "I come from Okhema, the Eternal Holy City. I am the Demigod of Death, one of the twelve Chrysos Heirs. To prepare for the impending catastrophe that threatens to engulf the world, I have come to retrieve all the Divine Artifacts."
Unlike Mydei, who had revealed his identity only after demonstrating overwhelming power, Castorice hadn't shown any such strength. As a proven powerhouse, Mydei's claims carried immense credibility.
Castorice hadn't displayed any martial prowess; she simply answered Nathaniel's question truthfully.
Normally, hearing a little girl claim to be a demigod and an apocalyptic threat should have sounded utterly unbelievable. Nathaniel, as expected, asked in astonishment, "You're a demigod?"
To Castorice's surprise, before she could even answer, Nathaniel nodded thoughtfully. "So that's how it is," he murmured, a pensive expression spreading across his face.
Castorice noticed her Fame on the System Page skyrocketing by several hundred points. Wait... does this guy actually believe me?!
Huh?
Dude, are you serious right now?
The scene reminded her of a past life when she'd randomly told a stranger she was the reincarnation of Qin Shi Huang, and they'd sincerely believed her. The absurdity of it left her speechless.
Nathaniel said, "In that case, I have no further questions. Good luck with your mission, kid."
Castorice departed with a bewildered, almost dazed expression, completely baffled. Shortly after she left, the burly man who had been listening to the entire conversation in the room turned to Nathaniel and asked skeptically, "Boss, she claimed to be some kind of demigod. You just... believed her?"
Nathaniel shrugged nonchalantly. "So what if I believed her? She doesn't pose any threat to us, and whether she's telling the truth or not makes no difference to me. Why not give her the benefit of the doubt?"
He paused, then added, "But what exactly is a demigod? Is it something like our Icefield Wolf God in the Northern Lands?"
The burly man stared in disbelief. "So, Boss, you believed her even though you don't know what she's talking about?"
Nathaniel countered, "Then tell me, do you know what the Demigod of Death is?"
The man fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. It was clear that expecting a barbarian raised in the wilderness with no formal education to possess such knowledge was simply too much to ask.
Nathaniel chuckled. "See? Don't overthink it. There were only two possibilities: either she was lying, and I fell for it—so what? She didn't take anything from me. Or she was telling the truth, that she's a real demigod with immense power. If I believe her, it might even improve her opinion of me. Either way, it's a win for us, isn't it?"
-
The perspective shifts to Castorice, who had already left the barracks and was following the direction Nathaniel had pointed. She noticed that the closer she got to the city center, the fewer signs of waste littered the streets. Could this mean the city center was sparsely populated?
Normally, the heart of a city should be its most bustling district, a prize fiercely contested by rival gangs.
Could it be that some overwhelmingly powerful force controls the city center, deterring others from approaching? Castorice pondered silently. The Barbarian Nathaniel's stronghold was the barracks, and the Black Hand's headquarters was the city's tallest spire. That left only the Death Church as a major power in the area.
Frankly, Castorice was reluctant to engage with the Death Church. As an "Ancient God" wielding the Authority of Death, her very existence clashed with their worship of the Death God.
Even though she didn't require faith herself, it was obvious the Death God wouldn't approve of her. To put it simply, the Death God was like a wealthy, handsome playboy, and his followers were his harem.
Then Castorice appeared—a figure with strikingly similar attributes: the same height, immense wealth, and undeniable handsomeness. It would be child's play for her to cuckold the Death God and steal his entire harem.
Whether Castorice intended to cuckold the Death God or not, in His eyes, she was undoubtedly the quintessential "bull-taker."
But with information about the Divine Artifact at stake, Castorice had no choice but to venture into Chaos City. After some time, she finally reached its heart. The good news was that this wasn't the Death Church's main stronghold.
As she rounded a street corner, the view opened up dramatically. An immense plaza stretched before her, but only half of it remained intact. Taking the plaza's center as the "Starting Point," the left side was perfectly preserved, while the right side looked as if some colossal force had plowed through it. The earth was cracked and fissured, a deep, black ravine stretching all the way to the city walls.
Standing at the "Starting Point," Castorice gazed to the right. The buildings lining both sides of the ravine had been reduced to rubble. From her vantage point, she could even see the lowest point of Chaos City's triangular, breached walls.
From this devastation, it wasn't difficult to deduce what had happened. Most likely, three hundred years ago, during the battle between the Hero and the Demon Lord, someone had stood exactly where Castorice stood now and unleashed a single, devastating attack straight ahead. The blast had ripped through half of Chaos City and shattered the city walls into their current state.
So, that's why the heart of Chaos City was so deserted: the buildings had been too badly damaged to be habitable.
But enough of the good news; here's the bad: while this wasn't the Death Church's main base, by sheer coincidence, several Death Priests happened to pass through shortly after Castorice.
One of them, carrying the corpse of the Leader of the Black Cloak, said to the person beside him, "Archbishop, I think we should immediately deploy everyone to search the entire city for the one who killed this man. He couldn't have gone far. Whatever method he used to grant someone such a peaceful death is something we need to acquire!"
The Archbishop replied in a cold, feminine voice, "Send everyone to search Chaos City? That's like searching for a needle in the ocean! We have more pressing matters now and no time for such a nearly impossible task."
Castorice glanced at the corpse of the Leader of the Black Cloak and listened to their conversation, her heart skipping a beat. Seriously? she thought. Just because they found someone I killed, these Death Priests are already hunting me down?
"What incredible luck!" Castorice thought. "Talk about finding a needle in a haystack—and here it is, right in front of you!"
Unwilling to confront these men just yet, Castorice immediately grew cautious. She began tiptoeing away as quietly as possible, but in the next instant, the Archbishop turned his gaze in her direction, frowning. "How could an Undead Creature be here?" he muttered.
Detecting the emotions of corpses and discerning whether a person was alive were fundamental skills for any Death Priest. Clearly, the Archbishop sensed no trace of living essence within Castorice. Compounding this, she was slowly inching away.
A moving creature devoid of life—what else could it be but an Undead Creature?
Releasing Undead Creatures to eternal rest, guiding them back to the embrace of the Death God, was one of the Death Church's core duties. Without hesitation, the Archbishop lunged toward Castorice in a single stride.
Unlike War Priests, who resembled heavily armored tanks in full plate armor, Death Priests favored lightweight leather armor—or even none at all—to maximize their agility.
The Archbishop moved with lightning speed, appearing behind Castorice in the blink of an eye. He raised a pitch-black dagger and slashed at the back of her head.
But Castorice's reflexes were equally sharp. Sensing the Archbishop's movement the instant he began to act, she briefly considered whether to strike back. Instead, she turned slightly, leaned back, and effortlessly dodged the blow.
The breeze from the dagger's passage lifted Castorice's hood for a fleeting moment, revealing her face. At the same time, the angle allowed Castorice to glimpse the Archbishop's face beneath his hood.
Purple hair framed a delicate face, its red eyes radiating the aloof composure of one accustomed to high authority. Surprised that Castorice had dodged his attack—or perhaps captivated by her appearance—the Archbishop's expression betrayed a flicker of bewilderment.
"Such a lovely girl... No, wait, why doesn't she carry the coldness of the dead?" The Archbishop froze, abandoning his pursuit. He leaped back a few steps to widen the distance, his brow furrowing slightly.
Neither the warmth of the living nor the chill of the dead emanated from her. Had his strike not nearly landed moments ago, the Archbishop might have dismissed her as a hallucination. Was he truly facing a 'person' right now?