"You know, after this, maybe try some skills from your affinity tree?" Esther suggested, waving her sword lazily as we walked. The flames along its edge flickered against the mist, throwing faint golden ripples across the etched stone road.
"Skills from Affinity aren't much use for an Owler like me," I replied, tightening my grip on Veilpiercer. "My job's to read the field, feed information… and put my body in harm's way when no one else will."
She hummed at that, amused. "A mobility skill would've been great then. Instead, you got Instant and Recover."
"I don't plan on being the frontline anyway."
"Understandable," she said with a small shrug, though the smirk on her face told me she wasn't done teasing.
We pushed forward. The mist clung to us, dense and oppressive, as if it were alive. Esther would spark her flames now and then, her sword acting like a makeshift torch, temporarily burning a tunnel of clarity through the gray veil.
It was strange though—my Owler functions felt sharper now. [Map] and [Scan] responded faster, smoother, as if the hesitation I had at level 2 was gone. Red pings bled onto my vision with clearer distinction, no longer fuzzy or delayed.
I paused mid-step, realizing it."I guess experience also affects system efficiency…" I muttered.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Esther asked, glancing back.
"No wonder I can track the Aberrants now. Back when I was stuck at level two, [Scan] felt like I was forcing it through mud. Now it's like the system finally acknowledges me."
Her lips curved into a grin. "Congratulations. You're finally being recognized by your own class."
I rolled my eyes. "Ha-ha, very funny."
Still… she wasn't wrong. For the first time since I arrived here, my tools weren't betraying me. It was as if the mist itself was starting to loosen its chokehold the more I grew.
And yet, a part of me couldn't shake the unease that this road of symbols we followed was leading us to something… deliberate.
The mist grew thicker the farther we went, clinging like wet cloth around our skin.
"Do you think this is a great idea?" Esther asked, pressing her sleeve over her nose as the sharp tang of ash began to creep into the air.
"Don't know. Being adventurous has its cons," I muttered, doing the same to block the smell.
She gave me a flat look. "I'm not confident with that response, Regina." Her voice cracked into a shriek as gray specks drifted down between us.
I tilted my head upward.…An ash rain?
The flakes fell endlessly, soft but choking, painting our hair and shoulders in pale dust. At first it was only ash—but soon debris mingled with it. Shards of blackened minerals. Splintered branches. Charred fragments of furniture.
And then—robes. White robes, scorched but still intact enough to see the ink burned into them. Each one bore the same mark: a figure with four arms brandishing swords, its body curling into a serpent's tail.
We slowed, hesitating, but our feet carried us deeper all the same.
The symbol repeated over and over as more cloth fragments rained down, each landing with a heavy flop against the stone ground.
My chest tightened. My heart thudded against my ribs as if trying to warn me.
Where are we heading?
For what felt like hours of trudging through the choking mist, something finally broke the monotony.
A silhouette loomed ahead—tall, pale, and jagged against the ashen veil.
As we drew closer, the shape revealed itself.
A temple.
White as snow, marbled once with grace, but now scarred by the cold grasp of history. Its walls were cracked, whole sections collapsed into heaps of broken stone. Yet even in ruin, its sheer presence dwarfed us.
The main structure towered above, easily the height of a seven-story building—perhaps once taller, before time had gnawed it down. Around it, smaller replicas stood in ruin, no more than four stories tall now, their outlines broken but still echoing some forgotten symmetry.
The silence was suffocating.
"Strange… there are ruined temples here?" Esther muttered, brushing her hand across the marbled wall. Dust clung to her fingers.
"Likely. Then this place used to be populated by some community…" I said, eyes drifting to the charred robes scattered along the stone. "Maybe a cult, judging from the symbols."
Her brows furrowed. "But who would choose to live in a place surrounded by mist?"
"Who knows," I replied, though the weight in my chest only grew heavier.
We stepped into one of the smaller temples, its doors long gone, its frame leaning as if on the verge of collapse.
Inside, the air was heavy with dust and silence.
The halls were lined with sculptures carved in the image of the four-armed, serpent-tailed figure we had seen on the robes outside. Once proud symbols, they now lay toppled and broken, scattered like discarded bones. The destruction didn't feel like the erosion of time—these were smashed deliberately, as if defaced by something filled with hate.
One chamber was littered with strange fragments—at first glance, chalk bricks smashed into powder across the floor. But when Esther crouched and ran her fingers over the pieces, her eyes widened."Seeds," she whispered.I frowned. A food source then—but not enough to be a main meal. Perhaps only part of some ritual diet.
Further down, another room revealed a trove of rusted jewelry, dulled gems and tarnished chains glinting faintly in the dim light. I called up [Scan], but the system dismissed them as "No Value.""Too bad we can't sell them off in the real world," I muttered, shoving a broken bangle aside with my boot.
Esther tugged my sleeve. "Here, look at this."
She led me into what looked like a grand public bath.
The pool stretched wide, its edges crumbling but still holding stagnant water—murky green, thick with rot. The stench was so foul it clawed at my throat. Carved into the walls above the pool were statues of a great snake, its body slithering across the marble in fragments, heads ruined, scales cracked.
The smell was so strong, my nose stung. Then, suddenly, a warm trickle ran down my lip.
Blood.
I staggered back, clutching my face.
"Regina?!" Esther grabbed my shoulder. Her voice wavered, though she tried to hide it. "Don't breathe it in too deep—it's… toxic."
The pool of green water rippled.
Not from the wind.
Something had stirred beneath it.
Again it came—those screams. High, shrill, and echoing as though they were clawing through my skull.
"A Mirageu?" Esther gasped, her voice trembling as the green liquid swelled.
And then it surfaced.
The creature rose from the toxic pool, its body drenched in slime, the stench of rot filling the air. Its shape became visible, and my spine locked rigid at the sight.
Seven feet tall.Jaw stretched unnaturally, sagging all the way down past its chest, overlapping its belly like a grotesque maw.Its claws were elongated nails, yellowed and sharp, twitching as though they itched for flesh.The body—human. Or what once had been.
Its eyes burned white, clouded like the suffocating mist outside. But what made my breath catch was not its form.
It was the robe.
Shredded, soaked, but unmistakable—the same white robes that fell from the sky with the ash. The faint symbol was still etched across its chest: four arms clutching swords, the serpent tail coiling beneath.
A priest. A follower. Or maybe something far worse.
My chest tightened. The Mirageu's scream wasn't just rage—it carried the echo of something broken, something once human, now twisted into this abomination.
Its arm reached out, claws dripping green as it lurched toward us—
And then, with a sudden violent yank, a mass of sludge dragged it back.
The green water churned hungrily, pulling the Mirageu down into itself. The last thing I saw was its jaw snapping open in one last hollow scream before the toxic pool consumed it whole.
The ripples lingered long after.
The water then grew still.
Neither of us moved. For several long breaths, the silence pressed down heavier than the mist itself.
"Those… looked like humans…" Esther finally whispered. Her hands clasped together as she bowed her head in prayer, her voice quiet, reverent.
I forced myself to keep my eyes on the faded carvings and murals etched across the ruined walls. Figures in robes, serpent tails curling around their feet, four-armed icons with swords raised high. A whole story half-buried in ash and time.
"So the Mirageu… were once the people that lived here," I said, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.
Esther's gaze lingered on the green pool, her flame-lit face pale. "If this place was once a thriving land, then what happened? What curse could have twisted them into that?"
"Who knows." I exhaled slowly, scanning the broken symbols again, trying to piece sense from chaos. "Not many understand the history of the realms. And those who claim to… it's just surface scraps. Fragments."
The stench finally began to recede, as though the green water itself had fallen back into slumber. But the memory of that scream clung to me. The kind that wasn't just pain—it was mourning.
We didn't wait to see if it would wake again. Together, we hurried out into the mist, pushing further through the ruins until we found another temple that seemed more intact.
But as we searched its hollow halls, disappointment grew. Most rooms were empty or desecrated, filled with more signs of the green sludge's corruption. Rusted ornaments crumbled at a touch, tapestries had long since rotted to shreds, and all that remained of their food stores were brittle husks.
The only discovery worth carrying were a handful of scrolls locked within a cracked chest—damp, but preserved enough that maybe some knowledge lingered within.
Everything else was just more silence. More broken reminders of what had been lost.
And as we stepped back into the ash-stained streets, there was only one destination left.
The largest temple.The one that loomed over all the others, its ruined crown rising like a jagged shadow above the mist.
We did a double check on what we had… not much really.
"If something were to happen in this ruin, then what could we possibly find at the old grand temple?" I muttered under my breath, though Esther caught it as she adjusted her robe tighter around her shoulders.
"Maybe something worse? Who knows," she said, her tone half-jest, half-worry.
The mist parted reluctantly as we came before the colossal gates. The doors were towering slabs of white marble, streaked with age and ash, yet when we pressed against them they opened with unsettling ease, as though the temple itself had been waiting.
A breath caught in my throat as we entered. The hallway stretched endlessly, swallowing us in its vastness. Our footsteps echoed faintly, swallowed up by the sheer emptiness of the chamber.
The walls curved inwards with a subtle arch, lined with statues—colossal figures frozen in disarray. None were whole.
A beheaded warrior, still clutching the hilt of a shattered sword.A robed figure missing its entire left half, yet in its remaining hand, it raised a globe toward the ceiling.A woman with her chest caved in, a yawning hole where her heart should have been, clutching a cracked book as though refusing to let go.A knight stripped of armor, only a helmet perched atop a grotesquely twisted body.
We passed statue after statue, each one destroyed in its own way, each one holding onto something—as if whatever had ruined them wanted their symbols to remain visible.
Esther's voice wavered, though she tried to sound steady. "These don't look like offerings. They look like… warnings."
The deeper we walked, the heavier the air became. The silence pressed close, almost thick enough to taste, mingled with that faint smell of ash and something metallic—blood, old and forgotten.
I slowed my steps, my eyes trailing along the cracked pedestals. "Or… records. Maybe this was their way of remembering what they lost."
But deep down, I wasn't convinced.
The temple wasn't just ruins. It was still watching us.
As we stepped out of the suffocating corridor, the vast chamber revealed itself like a secret that had been waiting for centuries.
A wide, open expanse stretched before us. From above, pale shafts of white light filtered through painted glass high in the roof. The fractured panes depicted rows of faceless white-robed figures gathered in worship. At the center stood a towering figure robed in gold, a crown balanced on its brow, arms raised as if in endless proclamation.
For the first time since we had entered this mist-ridden land, there was light. Real, piercing light.
Esther's eyes widened, her lips parting slightly. "It's… beautiful," she whispered, as though afraid her voice might shatter the illusion.
The floor beneath us was carved into perfect symmetry—circles within circles, overlapping in a complex mandala that seemed to pulse faintly when we stepped across it. Every line converged on the altar at the center, a silent throne of stone.
Esther drifted toward it as if compelled, her steps unsteady, her expression caught between reverence and dread.
It was then I noticed the two tablets resting on a raised stone stand near the altar, their surfaces cracked but still legible. My hands trembled slightly as I lifted one, the etchings glowing faintly as though recognizing my touch.
The inscriptions were not prayers. They were promises.
For the skies of grey were inevitable, shall the saviour be born will rise and gift us his mighty presence. The cold stones shall be warmed by his presence, the lurking beasts shall fall in his hands. and the glory of the people it shall receive as its praises.
My throat tightened as I read further.
A child of prophecy, born from the maiden of a sinful blood. He who does not rebel against the world but stand for it. He was born treated to be the devil yet grew to become the angel of this misty land.
The chamber felt colder the deeper I went, though the light above did not dim.
Oh, he forgives and he accepts and followers of the white robe shall be conceive. Our prayers, his prowess, the land shall know no weakness in the presence of its angel.
I glanced at Esther—she was transfixed by the glass overhead, the golden figure painted there.
The final words sent a shiver through me, sharp and lingering.
Ruler of all and soon ruler of this, wonders shall rain upon this barren land. The mist would now clench in fear and soon it will be forgotten.
The tablets grew heavy in my hands, unbearably heavy, as though the stone itself rejected being disturbed.
Behind me, the faint sound of stone shifting echoed in the vastness.
And then… silence.
"If that was a prophecy then why did this place still ended in ruins?" Esther asked, her voice echoing softly against the vast chamber.
"Maybe the prophecy was never fulfilled," I replied, tracing my fingers across the rough grooves of the tablet.
"Not all prophecy can be true anyway," I added, though even as I said it, the weight of the words pressed against me.
I turned to the second tablet, its surface cracked in deeper ways, the strokes carved with uneven hands. Unlike the first, with its neat and reverent script, this one felt almost… frantic. Angry.
I began to read aloud.
Child of prophecy or an ill-fated destiny? The monks of priest who hide their presence would eventually run amok. The mist would bare its fangs upon its challenger and the beast would grow wilder than the sins measured by humans.
The letters seemed to bleed into one another, as if scorched into the stone in desperation.
Oh dear, oh dear what have they done, ruined a life only to be in eradication. How can something as omniscient as the mist fear the makings of human delusions?
Esther's brow furrowed, her earlier awe dimming into unease. "This doesn't sound like the same voice… it's like—"
"Like a rebuttal," I interrupted, my chest tightening.
The words continued, curling down the stone in jagged lines.
The serpent shall rise from its slumber, the rivers shall be in white as the mist would be in anger. The saviour shall be born, born out of necessity of a fake hope. Merciful yet treacherous the path the child shall walk… only to be left to fend for itself when its people run in blood.
My grip on the tablet slipped, and I steadied it before it could fall.
Esther's voice lowered into a whisper. "This doesn't sound like salvation. This… sounds like a warning."
The final lines were more fragmented, as if carved in haste, yet each word cut sharper than the last.
Saviour, no saviour. Rulers of all buried in the Mystery of All. What may come before time would eventually be swallowed in its shore.
Silence weighed heavy after the last word left my lips.
This second tablet felt different—less like a prophecy, more like a curse.
Esther crossed her arms, looking unsettled. "So… two tablets. One promising an angel, a saviour. The other saying that same saviour would only bring ruin. Which one's right?"
I swallowed, staring at the broken symmetry of the floor, at the painted glass above that still glimmered faintly in the pale light.
"Maybe… both," I said quietly.
The mist outside howled faintly, as though in answer.