Of course I’ll save her. No matter what message might appear, that decision didn’t take even a second. Beyond the moral responsibility, it was also correct from a pragmatic standpoint. Dimona was a figure without whom Chapter Five of Act One could not proceed. The scenario in the Upper City lay ahead, and without her far too many “flowers” would bloom along the path — nothing but trouble.
[Drug-Addicted Saint looks at you with sympathy]
The deliberately summoned chain of calculating thoughts returned Gunther’s composure. When faced with a horrifying situation, what one needs is icy reason. There will be time for an outburst of anger later — it won’t be too late then.
“I can save her. This is well within my ability.”
He took a deep breath and looked around. In the hall, the participants were still raising their plaques with feverish excitement, getting more and more heated in the bidding. For the Arcane Runner — for the right to possess her body and soul.
[“Smiling Skull” waves its bony fingers, pushing into the bidding]
[“King of the Rusted Golden Crown” gleams with a greedy gaze]
The gods looked as though they were ready to snatch Dimona away alive right this moment. Yet Gunther did not waver. Because he had already figured out exactly who had put up the lot — and what they were aiming for.
“This auction’s ending has already been decided.”
There was one decisive difference between this auction and those of humans. The right to determine the winner belonged not to the one who offered the highest price, but to the seller himself. In other words, the entire game was rigged from the start.
“Where are you?”
Gunther calmly scanned the hall, which had turned into a noisy marketplace. Somewhere there among the masks and robes had to be the “designated winner.”
The two goddesses looked at him in surprise when they noticed how instantly he had regained his composure.
“Do you have some kind of plan?”
Gunther did not answer. He only kept watching the stage. Coincidence? Just at that moment Dimona lifted her head and looked toward the audience. There was neither pain nor emptiness in her gaze. In her eyes Gunther saw a steady flame. Dimona had not given up yet. Perhaps she even believed.
Believed that Gunther — her only connection in Border City — would save her.
...And at that very moment the attendant jerked on her collar.
[Participant number eight! Congratulations on your victory, you have become the owner of the treasure everyone desired!]
Participant number eight. The gazes of everyone present converged on a single point.
It was a woman with blond hair wearing a magnificent dress. Beneath the mask, worn as though carelessly, a faint smile slipped across her face. Numerous ornaments shining in the lamplight were valuable artifacts that made the owner easy to recognize. Anyone familiar with affairs in the Upper City could guess the winner’s identity at once. Gunther engraved the image into his memory.
“......”
Should it be called coincidence? Or was it inevitable? That face was familiar to him. Gunther recalled events from several months ago that now seemed so distant. At a checkpoint he had once passed through while joking with Ryan, he had encountered a certain noble lady.
The mistress of House Bellamor — Kate Bellamor.
The organizer of the “Cannibal Banquet” and a fanatical patron of Luthien. Holding the certificate of purchase in her hand, she gracefully turned and bowed to the hall.
Clap—
Gunther slowly applauded, repeating to himself:
Yes. Now everything was perfectly clear. This was an invitation from Luthien.
.
.
.
Gunther reconstructed the entire chain of events like this:
“Dimona was connected to Luthien from the very beginning.”
In the Labyrinth she had asked him to deliver a message to a runner on Luthien’s side:
“...Do you know about Pendrox’s nineteenth shadow?”
Gunther had been quite surprised then. The reason was the sudden appearance of that name.
Pendrox. The most horrifying prison and laboratory of the Luthien Theocracy. Officially it was advertised as a place where dangerous criminals were held, but in truth it was a hell where heretics and dissidents were abducted illegally and thrown inside, subjected to every imaginable inhuman experiment.
In that moment Gunther had intuitively sensed that Dimona came from there. Words of hers he had once dismissed now became proof.
[Luthien has been systematically cultivating Arcane Runners for several years in order to swallow Border City. And now they’ve perfected them to the point where they can be used in real combat]
Dimona’s extraordinarily powerful hacking abilities. Her fierce hatred of Luthien. Even the strange way she avoided any contact with the outside world.
“A runaway experimental subject from Pendrox.”
That single phrase explained everything. Which meant that those who had tracked her down and captured her this time were almost certainly from Luthien as well. Those aiming for Border City would never let an Arcane Runner like Dimona slip away.
“...They must have learned about our cooperation too.”
So they openly threw an invitation to the Night Raven organization in the form of something as cruel as an “auction.” It was mockery and provocation: try and save her, if you can.
“...The problem is that they entrusted it to Bellamor.”
Gunther recalled everything he knew about Kate Bellamor and her cursed lineage. The Bellamors were not natives of the Luthien Theocracy, yet they were more zealous patrons than anyone else. Backed by enormous wealth, power, and influence in high society, they were loyal servants who had strengthened Luthien’s foundations inside Border City. In particular, the head of the house herself, Kate Bellamor, had studied various forms of sacred magic under Luthien, so she could practically be called an “apostle.” She was a figure ranked above even the Perfumers.
“Looks like the Perfumers’ failure made them seriously wary.”
While all forces should have been thrown into assassinating the mayor and preparing for it, they had pulled Bellamor — who possessed tremendous influence in # Nоvеlight # the Upper City — into action. It was obvious how much they held a grudge against him.
“In that case, nine times out of ten Dimona will be taken to the estate.”
The Bellamor family estate. There was no more perfect place to prepare a trap. A dungeon where the ceiling, the floor, and every wall reacted like living creatures. Breaking through such a monster’s lair once it was prepared would be practically impossible.
Moreover, the moment Night Raven’s involvement was confirmed, Luthien’s support forces would be deployed as well. Therefore the Luthien side probably wasn’t certain themselves whether Night Raven would actually move. Dimona was certainly an irreplaceable asset, but this invitation was far too dangerous.
And yet Gunther would go.
Rustle—
When he left the Gods’ Shop, the noise of the bustle remained behind. The avatars of the two goddesses and Dimona disappeared.
Outside, thick flakes of snow were swirling once again. Gunther paused for a moment, standing quietly as if counting the snowflakes drifting through the air.
“...Five times.”
After Chapter Two of Act One he had sworn to act according to strict calculation. And this was the number he had reached. No matter how one looked at it, the number of times Dimona had saved his life was no less than five. Which meant that this time it was his turn to pay the same price.
Gunther put on his mask and hurried away. ...To win this battle that was doomed from the start, preparation was necessary.
***
— Somewhere in the Upper City.
“Faith is the key that unlocks the gates of abundance, and the pledge of a bargain. Jean Daet never leaves the devotion of his faithful unrewarded.”
With his gold-threaded vestments fluttering, the diocesan head finished the mass with those words. The aristocrats and officials all rose from their seats and bowed deeply. Amid the scent of incense and the golden light of lamps, the gazes of those wearing masks crossed cunningly, exchanging subtle greetings.
While Mayor Michela was absent, the influence of the cult in Border City had noticeably expanded. Among the authorities of the Upper City in particular, the influence of the Cult of Abundance was spreading like wildfire through dry grass.
“Ha-ha, I greatly look forward... to the blessing that Jean Daet will bestow upon our merchant guild.”
Despite the greedy gleam in the merchant’s eyes, Albino, the diocesan head, maintained a gentle smile. That smile was both a promise of blessing and a quiet confirmation that the deal had been made.
This merchant was the owner of an enormous guild possessing technology for refining and processing cores. He had accumulated immense wealth thanks to those unique techniques, yet he himself was a man who prayed to the god for mercy every night because he could not leave behind a single heir.
The donation he had offered the cult before this mass exceeded the annual taxes of certain noble houses. Therefore, if the hand of the god of abundance Jean Daet touched him, his empty cradle should soon be filled. Of course, several other cradles would have to be emptied for that... but that was merely the natural order of things. After all, not every child’s cry holds equal value.
“Faith has many forms.”
If the faith of commoners is blind, then the faith of enlightened and educated people resembles a carefully calculated investment. In some ways it was even stronger and more enduring.
Some wished to revive a broken lineage through the power of abundance, while others sought to prolong the life of decaying flesh. The powers of Luthien and her seven brothers responded to anything — if the proper price was paid. And Albino, managing this entire process, felt sincere satisfaction in the moment when faith born from a transaction gradually transformed into genuine belief.
“Let’s go.”
After seeing the last of the worshippers off with a smile, Albino slowly left through a hidden passage. The accompanying priest reverently escorted him to the carriage. Albino chuckled kindly and leaned on the priest.
“Mass is always a good thing... but at my age the body isn’t what it used to be.”
Hearing this, the young priest looked at Albino with admiration. A true saint who, despite possessing immense power, did not use it for himself. He had never imagined that from his very first appointment he would serve such a person.
Filled with excitement and nervous reverence, his damp palms clenched from tension, he supported Albino. The path inside the mansion felt like a pilgrimage to a sanctuary.
“By the way, I wonder whether that elven runner has been safely delivered to Bellamor?”
“Ah, yes! I actually received a message about that not long ago.”
“...A pity. I wanted to offer her as a sacrifice to Jean Daet, but it can’t be helped. Such is the will of the Archbishop.”
One of Albino’s two greatest strengths was sacrifice. Since the days when he had been an ordinary priest, he had demonstrated exceptional skill in ritual offerings, earning the title “master of offerings.” Even in his eyes Dimona’s value was unprecedented. Albino’s face darkened slightly, apparently disappointed that he had not been able to personally lay her upon the altar. At that moment the young priest cautiously asked:
“But still... will everything really be all right?”
“With what exactly?”
“With those unholy crows — Night Raven. I’ve heard that among the heretics they’re the most vicious and terrifying sort. Can an ordinary noble lady really handle them...”
“You’re worrying about Kate Bellamor?”
Albino smiled faintly, recalling the good old days with her.
“There’s no need to worry. We’ll leave those matters to her... and we must attend to our own work.”
Supporting the diocesan head, the accompanying priest approached the bedroom doors. Albino paused for a moment before the door, calmly glancing around. Where his gaze slid across, the shadows that until then had shown no sign of life trembled slightly.
A shiver.
Strange shapes began to emerge from the cracks in the walls, ceiling, and floor. A gigantic insect with mushrooms growing on its carapace. A sleek beast crawling on its belly. A pig-like monster whose snout had been replaced by a sucking tube.
“Oh-ho-ho, it seems they’ve come out to greet me.”
These were the results of “Summoning” — Albino’s second specialization. Each creature had a shocking appearance, but among them one mass clearly stood out: insects fused together into a single writhing lump. Knowing these were sacred beings, the accompanying priest involuntarily stepped back.
“W-what is that...”
“That is the Mother of Morphesia, the Lord of Imitations. She is not yet in her completed state.”
It was an insect capable of mimicking humans. However, if it devoured a target possessing outstanding abilities, it could not handle that form, causing the accuracy of the imitation to collapse. In other words, the mothers still lacked the strength to digest the “target” they were aiming for.
So Albino had chosen another path. Feed the mothers with quality nourishment, let them grow, and in the end make them devour one another. When through that process only one, the most perfect specimen remained—
“She will place this city into the hands of the cult.”
Albino softly whispered the plan.
“I-I see.”
The new accompanying priest, overwhelmed by the scale of the grand scheme, felt at the same time a surge of excitement. Being entrusted with such an important secret was undoubtedly a sign that promotion awaited him in the future.
“If there’s anything I can do, anything at all—”
Snap—
One of the insects burst from the floor and bit through his neck with enormous jaws. Hundreds of insects swarmed over the collapsing body. Soon nothing remained of the accompanying priest. Albino straightened and calmly stepped past the final fragment of bone.
In truth, that priest had committed no particular sin. Aside from the fact that a few days earlier the “Society of the Holy Flame,” an inquisitorial organization on the continent, had sent a report declaring his younger brother a heretic. And the fact that he himself possessed rather decent sacred abilities, which made him quite suitable as feed.
“Yield to Morphesia.”
After calming the other summoned creatures that were snorting steam through their nostrils, Albino headed for the bedroom. Lately the days had been rather exhausting. As he lay down in bed, he secretly hoped that good news from the Bellamor estate would arrive soon.
