The six adventurers remained bound in Rosaria's thorned embrace, their eyes flicking between the towering, blood-weeping nun and the young man who had just walked into their cage of flowers and death.
Ethan's stomach twisted. He wasn't used to being stared at like this like he was the monster.
"Alright," Ethan began carefully, his hands raised in a placating gesture. His voice was hoarse, carrying unease. "Nobody here wanted this. We didn't come looking for a fight. This..." he glanced at Rosaria, then back at the adventurers "was an unfortunate meeting. We'll let you go."
The adventurers exchanged wary looks. Garrick, the knight, narrowed his eyes. "We? You speak as though you command her."
Ethan winced but pushed on. "Yeah… somewhat like that but before we part ways, I'd like to ask you a few things. That's all."
Torren, still straining against the vines, barked a bitter laugh. "Ask? You expect us to answer you after this?"
Rosaria turned her veiled face toward him. "Child," she said gently, her voice as soft as velvet, "do not confuse mercy for weakness. Your hearts still beat because my summoner willed it."
The vines tightened just slightly, enough to make Torren hiss in pain. Rosaria tilted her head. "Would you rather they did not?"
Torren went silent, glaring but saying nothing.
Ethan exhaled sharply. "Rosaria. Enough. They've already lost."
At his word, Rosaria stilled. The vines loosened, though the adventurers were still firmly bound. Her hands folded neatly at her waist, her presence serene yet suffocating.
Ethan crouched down a little so his voice wouldn't carry like an order. "Listen… where are we? What is this place?"
The adventurers blinked at him in surprise. Neria, the huntress, frowned. "What do you mean, where are we? You don't even know?"
Ethan rubbed his temples. "Not exactly. Things have been… complicated."
The group exchanged glances. Finally, Brother Aldous spoke, his voice low, suspicious. "You... both of you are not from this world, are you?"
Ethan froze. "…What makes you think that?"
Garrick shifted uncomfortably in the vines.
Garrick eyes flicked to Rosaria "You ask where we are as though you have fallen from the heavens."
Ethan opened his mouth, then closed it. He couldn't exactly deny it. "…Fine. You're right. Not from here. So tell me where is here?"
Neria hesitated, then finally spoke, her voice softer. "This is the world of Veyra. You stand on the continent of Eryndor, near the borderlands of the Elarion Empire."
Rosaria tilted her head at the word, curious, her veil rustling faintly as her voice slipped out like a prayer. "Veyra… Eryndor… Elarion. Strange names, yet they ring with weight?"
Kaelen, the mage, was still pale but found his voice. He then glanced at Ethan. "If you truly are outsiders, then you must learn fast. Veyra is unlike any other world because it was never just one world to begin with."
Ethan frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Kaelen's lips pressed into a grim line. "This world… it merges with others. Always shifting, always growing. It is theorized that the core of Veyra is a Life Core, a heart that drags other worlds toward it, worlds with life. They merge into Veyra's body. Continents drift, connect, then break apart again. What is known one century is gone the next. It is endless."
Ethan's breath caught. He tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. "So… this isn't just some fantasy land. This place eats planets?"
Kaelen nodded grimly.
Neria added, "We know of only a few continents beyond Eryndor, but many are lost. Veyra is vast… and most of it will never be mapped."
Ethan sat down hard on a fallen log, raking a hand through his hair. "Holy shit. That's… insane."
Rosaria's hand brushed lightly against his shoulder. "Do not tremble, my summoner. The garden accepts all roots, no matter how strange. Even if this soil shifts forever, you are mine within it."
Her words were soft, almost soothing but they did little to ease Ethan's dread.
Trying to refocus, Ethan asked, "Alright. Then… your strength. I saw you fight. How do people measure power here? Is there some kind of… ranking system?"
This time Garrick answered, his voice still wary. "There are seven ranks. Bronze, Iron, Silver, Gold, Emerald, Diamond… and Platinum."
Ethan whistled low. "And you guys are…?"
Lyra, still catching her breath, let out a humorless chuckle. "We're Gold. Praised by the Empire as one of its stronger bands."
Rosaria let out a soft, melodic laugh. "Gold, and yet you trembled like lambs. If this empire lauds such strength, then its shepherds must be blind."
Her laughter was not cruel it was almost maternal, pitying. But it made the adventurers' skin crawl.
Ethan sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Rosaria…"
He looked back at the group. "Alright. You've answered enough. You can go."
Rosaria tilted her head slightly, but at Ethan's nod she slowly raised her hand. The living thorns slithered back into the ground, flowers closing like sighs. The six stumbled free, shaking, weapons clutched but not raised.
For a heartbeat, nobody moved, torren then growled, "Let's get the hell out of here."
The six bolted into the forest, vanishing between the trees.
Ethan exhaled, shoulders sagging. "Damn… kinda hoped they'd stay. Maybe help. Guess not."
Rosaria's veil turned toward him. "Fear is a stronger leash than trust, my summoner. They will not soon forget the garden they entered."
"…Yeah. That's exactly the problem."
---
Ethan adjusted the strap of his pack. "Rosaria… think you could rise up? See if the village is near yet?"
Rosaria's lips curved faintly beneath the veil. Without a word, thorned vines lifted her high, and then she simply rose her habit flowing as she ascended effortlessly, hovering like a dark saint in the dying light.
Ethan shaded his eyes, watching her silhouette against the horizon. He still couldn't believe this was his life now.
When she descended again, her voice was calm. "I see it. A village, resting in the valley's hollow."
"Good. Finally." Ethan muttered, rubbing his face. "Only problem is… how the hell do we walk in? Me, maybe. But you?" He gestured vaguely at her towering form, her veil, the blood streaming eternally from her face. "You'd cause a riot."
Rosaria folded her hands. "You wish me to hide?"
"Not wish. Just… thinking about survival here. People see you, they'll lose their minds. And we don't even know how money works here yet."
Rosaria stepped closer, her presence enveloping him. "Summoner," she said softly, "without me you are exposed. Naked soil before the storm. Would you walk into strange streets without shield or garden? If steel finds your back, who will embrace you? If hunger gnaws your belly, what will you offer in return? Currency is no shield against cruelty."
Ethan opened his mouth, then shut it. She wasn't wrong.
Still, he muttered, "What if I just say you're some… Platinum adventurer or something? That should shut people up, right?"
Rosaria chuckled faintly, though it carried a strange sadness. "Lies may shield you for a day. But thorns pierce falsehood as easily as flesh. You cannot weave protection from hollow words."
Ethan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "God, you always have to make it sound like poetry, huh?"
Rosaria tilted her head, her smile gentle. "If poetry keeps you breathing, then I will sing it endlessly."
Ethan's chest tightened, conflicted. "…Still. Maybe we don't barge in tonight. Let's… just observe from a distance. Learn their routines. Then figure out how to enter without causing chaos."
Rosaria inclined her head gracefully. "As you wish, my summoner. The garden is patient. It need not bloom all at once."
Together, they turned their steps toward the valley's edge, the village lanterns flickering faintly in the dusk.
For the first time since arriving in this world, Ethan felt both dread and a strange… fragile hope.
Because now, the real test was coming not against monsters or adventurers.
But against people.