The lakeside was bustling.
Aside from the Town Mayor, Chairman Robin, and other notable figures, there were even more townsfolk and adventurers who'd hurried over after hearing the news.
They stood together on the slightly higher slope at a distance, craning their necks and talking quietly amongst themselves.
The moment Gauss and his party arrived, they became the focus of everyone's attention.
Even those who had never seen Gauss before, upon laying eyes on him, quickly realized he was the main character tonight.
It was as if he carried a unique kind of presence that made people's attention gather on him whether they wanted to or not.
Or perhaps, many people destined for great things had that same quality.
Whether it was the founding monarchs who rose from hardship, the heroes who later made their names known across the land, or legendary figures who left bold strokes in the long river of history—each of them was like this.
Gauss walked toward the altar.
Calling it an altar was a bit generous—really, it was a pure white platform by the lakeshore.
The Lake God faith here hadn't yet developed to the point of formal churches, but they had still invited a respected local priest to preside over the ceremony.
Mayor Helson watched the scene with a smile on his face.
"Tonight happens to be the full moon—it's the perfect time for the blessing ritual. Gauss, please step forward."
Gauss's expression stayed calm as he dipped his head in acknowledgment. He quietly exchanged a few words with his teammates, then followed the priest leading the way before him.
He walked at an unhurried pace toward the circular altar of smooth white pebbles laid by the water's edge.
In the center, all sorts of offerings symbolizing harvest and respect had already been set out:
Black bread, white bread, full golden wheat stalks, berries still beaded with dew…
Gauss glanced over them and realized it was basically all food.
Maybe because the original legend of the Lake God began with food falling into the water, all the rituals that followed had been increasingly shaped by that theme.
As if the local Lake God was—at heart—a god with a passion for eating.
"Please stand here."
The elderly priest gently looped a special ring of wheat stalks around Gauss's neck.
Then Gauss stepped a few more paces closer to the water.
Moonlight poured down, softly covering his moon-white robe. That silken-white fabric seemed to catch and refract the light, faintly gleaming like fresh snow.
It looked as if the moonlight itself had condensed into form and draped itself across his shoulders.
Up on the hillside, the onlookers instinctively went quiet at the sight, their gazes drawn to him.
Gauss took a few more steps.
With every step he took, the curiosity on his face deepened.
Because at that moment, he truly felt that something in the air had changed.
It was as if some invisible presence was slowly awakening.
"Look over there."
Someone in the crowd, staring at the water, lowered their voice and whispered to those around them.
Before Gauss, the wind suddenly stirred. The lake's surface, glass-still a second ago, began to ripple outward in luminous rings of faint blue light.
The glow wasn't from the moon above, but instead seemed to shine up from the depths of the water itself—pure and elegant.
At the center of those ripples, the lake felt as though it had awakened.
Bubbles rose from beneath the surface—first just a few, then more and more—pale blue spheres breaking free of the water to gather quickly in the air before Gauss.
There was… there was actually a "Lake God"?
Gauss blinked.
Not far from him, the old priest—who had been about to continue the formal blessing—had gone completely dumbstruck.
Who am I? Where am I? What was I supposed to be doing again?
He'd presided over this blessing ritual every year. If it could really summon the Lake God, how could he not know?
This was the first time he'd ever seen something like this.
For a brief instant his mind went completely blank, his pupils tightening.
So the blessing really could call the Lake God down?
The townsfolk on the shore were just as stunned.
Many of them instinctively clapped their hands over their gaping mouths.
A few devout believers had tears streaming down their faces as they fell to their knees, hands clasped in prayer toward Gauss and the "Lake God."
Under their gaze, Gauss—wrapped in moonlight—seemed almost sacred himself.
The water bubbles spun and gathered in the moonlight, gradually outlining a large, graceful, human-shaped silhouette.
It didn't have a clear, detailed form; it was more like a mass of flowing water.
Yet unlike water elementals or water spirits, its very appearance carried an undeniable sense of sanctity.
Standing directly before it, Gauss felt this more than anyone.
He watched quietly.
At the same time, he could sense that it was watching him.
Is this really a god?
Gauss was a little curious about what this being actually was.
It might be some kind of ancient elemental spirit that ordinary people could never comprehend—or perhaps an avatar of some deity—but whatever it was, it clearly wasn't a normal lifeform.
It seemed uninterested in any other humans present. All of its attention was focused solely on him.
Gauss felt a vast, ancient, yet gentle will sweep through him.
It pierced his protective wards, seeped through the Moonlight Robe, his skin, and his flesh…
He was somewhat uncomfortable—it felt like standing naked in front of someone.
Fortunately, he also had the faint sense that the adventurer's manual deep inside him remained well hidden.
All the noise at the shore—gasps, chatter, prayer—fell away, cut off by an invisible barrier that closed around him.
In that moment, the world contained only Gauss, and the ancient will in front of him.
A clear, ethereal voice echoed in the depths of his mind.
[The blood of an Ancient Watcher… it has been long since such a lineage has walked the Prime Plane.]
Gauss forced down the turmoil in his heart and did his best to remain composed.
He gathered his mental strength and tried to respond in kind.
"I greet you, Guardian of Blue Lake. My name is Gauss, an adventurer merely passing through."
He didn't bother explaining about the hunting contest or the "Blessing of the Lake God." Someone like this—whatever it truly was—wouldn't care about human festivities.
If it did, it would have shown up at previous blessing rituals, and the townsfolk wouldn't look like they'd just seen a miracle for the first time in their lives.
As for why it appeared this time, and to him… Gauss suspected it might be linked to that "Ancient Watcher blood" it mentioned.
Was it talking about his [Ghoul Form]? Or [Ironscale Bloodline]?
This "Watcher blood" clearly interested it.
He turned those thoughts quietly in his mind.
[Adventurer…]
The Lake God's will stirred like a ripple.
For some reason, Gauss could almost sense a very human-like pause in its thoughts.
After a moment, it seemed to receive some further information.
Its attention returned fully to Gauss.
[So many years have passed upon the Prime Plane…]
"Are you… a god?"
Gauss couldn't help wondering.
He'd noticed it specifically mentioned the "Prime Plane."
From what he knew, almost all true deities didn't reside on the Prime Plane but in the Outer Planes, each within its own divine realm—the cornerstone of its power.
Gods were incredibly powerful, but their true bodies were bound by cosmic rules and couldn't enter the Prime Plane directly. They could only exert influence via believers, avatars, chosen champions, and celestial servants.
[A god?]
It neither confirmed nor denied the title—just let the question pass and continued in that calm voice.
[My name is Moterra, the will condensed from these waters.]
[Adventurer Gauss, have you come seeking my blessing?]
It asked.
"According to the ritual, yes—that's why I'm here." Gauss answered honestly.
But to his surprise, the watery figure in front of him slowly shook its head.
[The strands of fate around you are tangled and radiant, woven together with too many branching possibilities… To grant you the same blessing as others would be like pouring a cup of water into the lake—gone in an instant.]
[And there is also… a mark of corruption clinging to you.]
"A corrupt mark?"
Gauss blinked.
He hadn't noticed anything like that.
On the contrary, his journey had gone surprisingly smoothly.
He glanced down at himself.
Nothing unusual.
[Step closer.]
Moterra's will spoke again.
Gauss hesitated a moment, then took a few more steps forward.
His boot touched the surface of the lake.
Ripples spread outward, but instead of sinking, he felt as if he were stepping onto something soft yet elastic.
He walked all the way to stand directly before it.
Moterra raised one arm and laid its hand gently atop his head.
Gauss felt something deep within him—a dark green sigil—slowly rising to the surface.
"What's this?"
[That is a mark—perhaps from some devil, demon, or unknown dark god.]
[It, or its servant, left that sigil on you so it can find you again when the time comes.]
[This mark isn't a curse. Aside from revealing your location, it does you no harm.]
Gauss nodded as the pieces clicked into place.
At the same time, he dug into his memories, trying to recall when such a mark could've been placed on him.
It didn't take long for a certain memory to surface.
He hadn't crossed paths with many things of the god-demon-ghoul variety; aside from this Lake God, there was only that one incident…
His mind drifted back to the days right after he'd first become a professional.
Back when it was still just him and Alia, and they'd taken that ratman cleansing job in the church cellar.
He distinctly remembered the final words of that half-mad ratman who had been in the middle of some profane ritual.
"The eyes of Vespeteria are upon you."
So that was probably when he'd been tagged.
He'd only had nightmares about it for a single night, and nothing strange had happened afterward. No cursed side effects, no weakening. Eventually he'd chalked it up to the dying nonsense of a cornered vermin and forgotten about it.
He hadn't expected the mark to be very real.
According to Moterra, even if it posed no harm or negative effect, it still revealed his location whenever that being felt like checking in.
The idea of being watched left a sour taste in his mouth.
So he quickly made his request.
"Great Moterra, since you can see this mark, might you also be able to erase it from me?"
Moterra's watery form pulsed faintly, its voice soft and apologetic.
[I cannot.]
The answer made Gauss's heart sink a little.
[The root of this sigil is neither physical nor purely magical—it is something deeper, closer to a bond of concept and vow.]
[Some being sacrificed its own life to forge a deep 'causal entanglement' between you and the master it serves. That unilateral 'declaration' was recorded by the laws of the Prime Plane itself.]
[My power comes from Blue Lake. I govern water, nourishment, and abundance—this kind of thing does not fall within my domain.]
[But you need not be overly worried. For high-ranking devils, demons, or dark gods, time moves very differently. A normal human lifetime is often too brief for them to bother responding to a single mark.]
[If you wish, I can help you conceal this sigil for a time.]
Moterra took its time, but everything it said made sense.
For such beings, even centuries could be like a nap. That explained why nothing had come of it for so long.
Yes, a ratman elder had offered its life to paint the target on him—but that didn't mean its master would immediately take notice.
Even if it had noticed, it wouldn't necessarily care.
For all Gauss knew, the "patron" was asleep somewhere. By the time it woke up to review its backlog of prayers, decades might have passed.
For a dark god, its attention was surely more focused on powerful believers, not some random ratman's dying vow.
"In that case, I'd be grateful for your help, great Moterra."
His tone toward the Lake God was properly respectful.
Moterra's translucent form nodded.
It slowly drew forth a deep blue sphere of water.
The sphere separated from its body and floated forward, sinking into Gauss's chest.
Gauss suddenly felt lighter—as if some unseen weight had been removed.
[I have given you a portion of my source. It will suppress the sigil's resonance and block its signal.]
[In addition… you may shape this power into a weapon.]
[Sword, spear, blade—whatever form you desire, it can assume.]
[Consider this my special "blessing" to you.]
Moterra's tone held a quiet warmth.
[As for the mark, once your own power grows strong enough, foreign sigils like this will be naturally rejected and purged.]
"Thank you, generous and noble Moterra."
Gauss's gratitude was sincere.
He didn't know why, but this being truly did seem very kind toward him.
And, as the old story said, the Lake God here really was exceedingly generous.
He'd just been given a shapeshifting water-weapon and a shield against a dark sigil. Not a bad haul at all.
[No need to thank me so quickly.]
[There is also something I would ask of you.]
Before Gauss could fully appreciate the generosity, Moterra's voice echoed again in his mind.