When Jeanne first raised the question of whether Kjeragandr should reveal Her existence more openly to the people of Kjerag, both women shook their heads in unison.
"Let it be," Kjera said softly. "I do not wish for them to chase after the idea of a deity. Now that Kjerag has chosen to step out into the wider world, let them face it on their own terms."
"You really don't care at all about how others view you, do you?" Jeanne murmured. Knowing the depth of Kjera's quiet, enduring devotion over hundreds of years filled her with a profound sense of respect.
From the historical archives Ch'en had shared with her, Jeanne knew how ancient nations in Yan interacted with their gods, and she had heard rumors of divine entities slumbering across other regions of Terra.
Yet an entity like Kjeragandr—who cared nothing for praise, worship, or personal glory, choosing instead to silently watch over her people from the snow—was an extreme rarity among deities.
"I must admit, I am quite curious," Alina chimed in, looking at Kjera with undisguised fascination. "What exactly are divine beings, biologically speaking? And how did you people descend upon this land in the first place?"
Meeting Kjeragandr face-to-face had stirred up a wave of questions in Alina's mind. She had once assumed gods were incomprehensible, omnipresent forces—much like the omnipresent faith Jeanne spoke of. Yet standing before Kjera felt entirely different.
To Alina, Kjeragandr felt less like an abstract deity and more like a living entity wielding extraordinarily powerful Originium Arts, or perhaps some wondrous, indescribable lifeform beyond ordinary classification.
She lacked the grand, ineffable terror that Jeanne often described or that one felt when offering traditional prayers.
"What kind of existence are we...?" Kjera tilted her head, pausing in thought. "Strictly speaking, even I do not know what kind of biological classification I belong to."
"Although we are revered as gods, we were born into this earth just like anything else. How we first appeared, or who created us, remains a complete mystery to us."
Kjera offered a slightly troubled smile. "You really ought to ask my brethren out in the wider world about that. From the moment I was born, through the founding of Kjerag, and up to this very day, I have never left this snowfield. I lack the words in your human vocabulary to properly describe our nature."
She paused, then added, "Perhaps you can simply think of us as a species somewhat stronger and longer-lived than ordinary mortals. As for the God you worship in your own hearts... I know nothing of them. I am simply what I am."
Kjera could sense that Jeanne carried something unusual within her—if that strange resonance belonged to one of her kin, Kjera certainly couldn't fathom how such vast power had been granted to a mortal.
"The deities out in the wider world are nowhere near as easygoing as you," Jeanne chuckled. "To be entirely honest, having a god who actually fits the human definition of 'benevolent' is a rare luxury."
Most gods on Terra were notoriously capricious. Jeanne had learned that lesson well, whether through her own faith or the chaotic histories of this planet.
As if reacting to her thoughts, a familiar, aggrieved sensation rippled through her mental link—reminding her that her own deity was likely eavesdropping on her thoughts right at that very moment.
"I am merely doing what feels right to me," Kjera replied gently. "There is no need to place me on such a lofty pedestal; it makes me rather self-conscious."
"Well, you had better get used to it," Jeanne teased. "Once the people of Kjerag truly venture out into the world, there's no telling what kind of elaborate hymns they'll invent to praise their divine protector."
"They cannot reach me when I am out of bounds, and they do not know my true face, so I suppose I shall be spared the embarrassment..."
Their conversation didn't last much longer. Kjera had come specifically to coordinate a matter regarding Enya, and she had no intention of letting personal chats derail her duties.
When Jeanne returned to their temporary quarters, she found the front entrance blocked by a towering stack of heavy wooden crates, leaving her wondering what on earth had been hauled over.
Inside, the Doctor was locked in an intense, animated debate with the Paleroches Clan representative, Valais. No matter what logical arguments the Doctor put forward, Valais simply shook her head and flatly rejected every single one of them, leaving the Doctor visibly fuming.
"Oh, come on! Calling you stubborn is an understatement!" the Doctor threw her hands up in exasperation. "Why won't you listen reason? We simply cannot haul this massive quantity of cargo back with us—our transport capacity is completely maxed out!"
That cleared up the mystery. Enya had previously mentioned sending a batch of tear stones as a parting gift, but looking at the sheer volume of crates, the miners must have hauled down a small mountain's worth of mineral wealth.
Judging by the uniform, manageable size of each stone, the miners had clearly extracted them using traditional, manual hand-chiseling methods. Yet to present this much at once...
Jeanne had a strong suspicion that Chief Arctosz had practically emptied his family's emergency reserves.
"Ah, Jeanne, you're back!" the Doctor cried out, grabbing Jeanne by the arm. "Please, talk some sense into her! Our transport vehicles cannot possibly carry all of this, and she refuses to take no for an answer!"
"It is the direct will of the chief," Valais replied, her tone unwavering and intensely sincere. "He insisted that since you went to such extraordinary lengths to save our nation from ruin, we must demonstrate our genuine gratitude."
Despite her unyielding stance, Valais clearly respected authority—it was just that the sheer scale of the gift was overwhelming.
"How about this," Jeanne suggested, stepping in to mediate. "We will accept a single small crate as a token of friendship, but you must take the rest back. Karlan Commercial can use those mineral reserves as initial capital for your upcoming trade ventures. Oripathy treatments and medical supplies are always in high demand across Terra; you'll need those funds."
Alina picked up a single tear stone from an open box, turning it over in her hand to test its weight. Whether because her own Oripathy was held entirely in check by Jeanne's holy water or because the stone's energy was too subtle, she felt absolutely nothing unusual.
"Perhaps my condition is simply too stable for it to react, or maybe a single raw stone lacks sufficient potency," Alina murmured softly, stepping up beside her. "Otherwise, Columbia would have weaponized these minerals years ago."
Jeanne agreed with her assessment. After examining the gray-blue, opaque mineral for a moment, she placed it back into the crate.
With persistent, diplomatic negotiations, Jeanne and the Doctor finally convinced Valais to keep only a single small box as a souvenir, while the rest of the tear stones were hauled back down the mountain, leaving not even a stray pebble behind.
It was evident how deeply the clan valued these stones. Had Jeanne and her group not intervened to avert a catastrophic civil war, such treasures would never have been shared so freely.
That very evening, the Doctor finally transmitted her comprehensive field report directly to Kal'tsit's Terminal. For the next several hours, she paced around her room like a trapped mouse near an open flame, unable to sit still for a single second.
"Are you truly that terrified of Kal'tsit?" Jeanne asked, watching the Doctor's nervous loops. "You always project such supreme confidence when dealing with everyone else. Why does mentioning Kal'tsit turn you into a trembling wreck?"
Jeanne still found it baffling. While she understood that past memories might dictate old habits, the Doctor was currently operating with massive gaps in her memory—so why did the fear persist so purely?
The Doctor stopped pacing, scratching the back of her head with a deeply sheepish expression. "I don't know... Every time I think about arguing with Kal'tsit, a strange instinct takes over. Maybe some deeply buried reflex tells me that talking back to her is a one-way ticket to disaster."
"Don't look at me for answers. Erasing your memories was your own joint plan with Theresa; what secrets remain hidden in there are entirely beyond me," Jeanne replied with a light shrug.
Given the circumstances, Jeanne could only attribute it to subconscious conditioning. Perhaps Kal'tsit simply occupied a towering, unshakeable pillar in the Doctor's psyche.
Just as the tension reached its peak, a chime sounded from the Doctor's Terminal. A message had arrived from Kal'tsit.
It was remarkably concise, yet carried an electric charge of undeniable excitement:
"The tear stones... bring your batch back immediately. I believe our research team has just achieved a major breakthrough. Get Jeanne down to the lab as well—we may have actually found what we've been searching for!"
Jeanne knew instantly what Kal'tsit meant by "what we've been searching for." It referred to the specialized pharmaceutical formula capable of arresting Oripathy's cellular degradation and potentially preventing initial infection altogether.