"The most perilous faith is the one that must remain hidden."
– A Deceased Philosopher
She led me directly to a room and forcefully motioned for me to enter. Without complaint, I did so. Inside was a simple space: a bed, a chair, and its own small bathroom.
I walked to the open window and watched Miranda and the other Bureau members carrying luggage into the house while others drove off, possibly to another compound.
I observed the silent streets and the passing people, who gazed at the house—and even at me—with open anger and disgust.
In the midst of my thoughts, someone knocked on my door. I invited them in, and it was Miranda.
"We are only staying the night," she told me, cracking her neck. "By tomorrow afternoon at the latest, we will head toward the dungeon, so try to get some rest."
"And no meals for this evening?" I asked.
"Sadly, only lodgings were provided, not meals. But if you are hungry, I could bring in rations. I warn you, though—they taste quite terrible."
"Really? Well then, starve I shall."
"Good. Also, remember to try not to dress as if you wish to become a fashion model."
"Your suggestion is much appreciated. I recommend taking said complaints to the higher-ups," I joked.
"Sadly, I do not have such clearance. Oh well," she replied with amusement as she left.
I watched the closed door for a few seconds, then lay down on the bed. I had noticed that since arriving in this town, the spirits had been unusually quiet—except for the occasional soft laughter, as if they found the situation amusing.
After a few minutes of lying there with empty thoughts, I used the shadows to undress myself and went to bathe. The soap they provided was not to my taste, but fortunately I had packed my own. After bathing, I used the wind to dry my body, but the spirits made the breeze quite cold. An annoying prank on their part.
I used the shadows to dress in something appropriate—not for sleep, but for… an evening walk. I had been told to mind my own business, but I had decided that discovering this town's greatest secret was very much my business.
I performed a theatrical little flourish as I was consumed by the shadows. Within that darkness, I created and sent out several phantoms into the small town.
Then I appeared beneath a large canopy tree. A small picnic basket materialised at my feet. I picked it up and saw some sandwiches inside, along with a note written in weirdly cute handwriting: "Go Qulien Go!"
It seemed they were indeed watching me.
I took one of the sandwiches and began eating it as I took a leisurely stroll, humming softly. My phantoms brought rather boring news: who had cheated on whom, whose child had scored higher on a test, and so on.
Already growing tired of the basket, I created a phantom to carry it and follow me, instructing it to offer me a sandwich whenever I finished the one I was eating.
While this might sound like a waste—and indeed it was—the dew drops the spirits had given me not long ago were mana, the purest concentration of arcane energy. Residue > Miasma > Divinity > Mana. Being granted such a powerful concentration had filled my residue reserves; it had also greatly increased my residue storage capacity and recovery rate. And though this was only a guess on my part, my body may have lacked a great deal of residue, which was why absorbing the dew had felt so quenching.
Because of this, I could now use costly spells without much issue. I was not sure whether to say 'sadly' or 'happily'; even after absorbing the mana dew, I was still unable to produce mana of my own. I guessed even the spirits did not wish for me to reach godhood just yet.
After that thought, a gentle breeze blew past me, and a handful of leaves found their way to my face. Of course, they were listening to my thoughts—why wouldn't they?
Another batch of leaves followed, this time with some small branches. I used a wind spell to deflect them, but the spell mysteriously weakened, allowing a single twig to tap me on the head.
I desperately wanted to curse at this mistreatment but focused elsewhere. The phantom, though not sentient, gave me a rather confused look but still offered me a sandwich, as if pitying me.
Taking the sandwich and ignoring the phantom's gaze, I continued my stroll. I had gathered some useful information from the other phantoms concerning the dungeon: it had multiple entrances, there seemed to be a government-run agency that dealt with dungeons (nicknamed "the Guild"), and there was supposedly a rich boy who was quite powerful and would assist in clearing the dungeon. From their descriptions, it was me.
I took another sandwich as the moonlight shone brightly. Then I felt it—a presence I had sensed before, something old yet strangely warm. I looked around, trying to pinpoint the feeling. I seemed to be walking through what looked like a park and was currently near a basketball court. I walked toward it, but the feeling dimmed, so I returned to my original position.
I closed my eyes, trying to locate it, and after a couple of seconds it flared up again, as if growing tired of waiting. I turned my head opposite the court and saw a grove of trees. I walked toward them as the presence grew stronger, then stopped, setting my eyes not on the big and mighty trees but on a small shrub growing a bit away from them.
This shrub was quite familiar to me. After all, it was a ko berry bush—the same berry said to be the snack of the Goddess of Death. This bush could only grow in lands blessed by her.
Well, it seemed we had found our mystery. This community worshipped the Goddess of Death. But why did they hide their faith? That was the question.