The blacksmith knew far more about the rulers than Rosacer had imagined, sharing details that most people wouldn't know. Gordon was one of the original residents still alive, a shepherd back when the city was normal. The rest of the rulers, however, were newcomers who had arrived through the mist one day.
Opelia was a refugee who found herself in the catacombs, eventually stumbling into the mist city after days of being lost and starving. Rumor had it she was the princess of one of the ruling kingdoms.
Jaka, a doctor and healer from a faraway land, was originally a man but later became a woman, or something in between. He went on to form a group of surgeons dedicated to helping those with grotesque mutations.
Romero began as the wrathful soul of a dead man, but was later transformed into a human by the mages of the mist city. He soon excelled at mana manipulation and eventually became their leader.
Rosacer was surprised to discover facts about the mist city, most of which were obscure. According to the Blacksmith, not many people know about them.
After leaving the shop, Rosacer asked the system about the Ackerman, hoping to verify whether the Blacksmith's words were accurate.
The System chimes in.
A blue window popped in front of his eyes, with highlighted text.
[Ackerman, the Conqueror family, once ruled the world in the 7th century. After the death of the first king, their council gradually fell apart due to weaker rulers in each successive generation, causing one of the noble families to break away. Over time, as a new era emerged, their legacy faded and died with them.]
"What's the current century?" Rosacer asked.
The system quickly responded with new text.
[Current Era: 10th Century.]
"Three centuries have passed..."
Rosacer asked another question, expecting the system to deny him due to lack of authority.
"When was the Dream God slain?"
As usual the system responded.
[User lacks the required authority.]
'In that sense, the Dream God must have been slain in the 7th century, during the time when the Ackerman were strong. Three centuries have passed, and the Mist Village has been cut off from the world all this time. It's not too hard to figure out. Then why does the system need higher authority?' Rosacer pondered deeply.
'Maybe he's still alive… Could Rosacer have been wrong? The Dream God wasn't killed, just driven insane. But then again, even the witch confirmed it. I suppose she's not exactly ordinary either—perhaps on par with the ruler of the most powerful city.'
He turned to the system once again. "Is the dream god dead?"
[The Dream God is dead.]
"Wha---"
He was caught off guard; he hadn't expected to hear from the system this time.
For he couldn't quite grasp why the moment of the Dream God's death was so significant. It felt shrouded in more mystery than the death itself. A sense of smallness crept over him as he realized he was just an ordinary man trying to make sense of gods.
He walked for awhile immersed in his thought when the mist around him grew thicker, he has spent nearly the entire day wandering and asking about the armor.
Night had fallen, and the haze swirled heavier, the darkness pressing in until the faintest light could no longer break through to touch the ground. The city lay buried in abyssal shadow—until, in that gloom, a flicker appeared. A purple flame sparked to life, casting its glow across the street and lighting the path ahead for passing pedestrians.
The shade of the flame reminded him of Josan, who also conjured purple flames in his palm like a magician.
His face went little sour.
It wasn't that he had forgotten about the dinner, but now he simply didn't want to go. After learning more about the dream god, he felt a bit wary. Associating with its follower didn't seem wise, especially when the nightmare god, known as the slayer of the dream god, had given him his mercy.
'They might think I'm his blessed one, and honestly, that's not too far from the truth. I even met him… maybe.'
Putting the thought back in his mind, he made his way down Cornwell Street, where the streetlights glowed, leaving only the alley's corner in shadow. Still, a few wandering flames managed to cast their light there too.
With heavy steps, Rosacer approached a house whose lights were still on, glowing like the purple ones. Yet there was something soothing about this light, as if it were doing its best to reclaim the pure white glow it once had.
He slowly walked up to the door, raising his hand to knock, but paused.
The thought lingered—could he really escape by turning into a rat if things went south? The people he'd met were directly tied to a god. They were the eyes, the watchers for the god, and they had been in the mist village far longer than he ever had. There was nowhere he could hide, nowhere he could run...
His eyes were fixed on the dark oak door, its bell still untouched by rust.
There was calmness before him, yet a storm of thoughts crashed violently inside his head.
Sweat began to form as if his insides were ready to burst. He was losing his mind, and a creeping panic slowly settled into his heart.
He frantically paced up and down the front yard stairs. The black-painted gate looked far more tempting to jump over and escape, never having to face the troubles inside.
He called the system just as he was about to collapse, the panic attack nearly overwhelming him. From the space, he pulled out a salve and applied it to his head. Soon, a cool, soothing sensation entered his veins, slowly spreading to every part of his body.
He let out a breath, his whole body trembling, eyes fixed on the doorbell.
The thought finally settled, he realized there was truly no place to flee. So why hesitate? This wasn't a choice—it was a circumstance he had to face.