The sun’s at an angle where even my hood couldn’t cover, forcing me to use my hand instead. It’s annoying, but I marched onward. As the sun rises, the town awakens. The window shutters of houses slowly open one by one, letting the chatter and noise escape from these rooms.

Down the winding road that leads to the inn, I end at the center of the branching paths. Wind passes through the street, bringing it a fresh scent of air. Glancing to my left, I note the hanging sign with engraved symbols of a bed and beer. The walk back doesn’t take long.

Mercy isn’t at the inn. It’s not a surprise.

I checked with the innkeeper, although the silent oath makes simple questions difficult. Apparently, Mercy left only a few minutes ago. I head up to my room in order to collect my cloak and dress.

A minor problem arises, as I wonder how annoying it’ll be to have to hold on to this dingy dress. My cloak will be fine once I return the one I’m wearing back to Mercy. I thought back about the Compress enchantment. It’s not hard to draw, but if I do, I should just toss the dress.

…

The shine and material are a dead giveaway. If I toss the dress, someone might find it and start yakking. The Church will hear about this, then the Gods—especially those hawks. A long sigh breaks the silence.

“How unfortunate.”

I’ll have to keep this colorless rag for the time being. The next unoccupied fire I see, though, it’s going to get slung.

I lay the dress flat on the ground with the arms connected to the sides. Taking the pen brush into my right hand and uncapping it, I taint the dress in ink. Compress isn’t hard to draw, it’s just tedious. Round and round the ink goes around the canvas, springing a few thorns here and there. At the last connecting stroke, the Compress enchantment is ready.

One finger touching the ink, I apply a bit of mana to activate the enchantment. It squeezes the dress down to a pocket-able size, and I shove it straight into my pockets. Leaving the inn and the room key, I continued wandering around the village.

In the desolate marketplace stands Sister Mercy. All the dry motivation quenches around her as she greets the residents in her vicinity. They swarm her like locusts. It’s not a thick crowd, so I’m still able to peer at her.

Mercy spots me in the distance, an effortless task with the white cloak. She hurries up her greetings to the surrounding folks. As I come closer, she separates from the swarm to meet me halfway.

“Good morning, Go—ack!” She shuts her mouth so fast that she bit her tongue.

“Heh!” It almost got a chuckle out of me, but the silent oath is still in effect. I point towards the southwest gate.

She turns toward the direction of my finger. “Ah, yes. We should head out, but I’d like to do a quick check-up on everyone first if you don’t mind.”

It’s not like I could say anything about it. With a shrug from me, Mercy departs to chit-chat with the other villagers. Pacing towards the gate, I assume she’ll meet up after she’s done with her chores.

Ten minutes passed. I catch Mercy running in my direction with not a sweat from her brow or heavy breaths. A deep coolness stream across my cheeks as those eyes align with mine. She wears a modest smile.

“I’m ready to go now.”

With a nod, we both exit the village with no trouble. The guards aren’t the same, though they’ll miss Mercy all the same. How long has she stayed in this village? Or is she able to capture so many hearts in a short amount of time? Once we’re far away, I speak up, “So where are we heading?”

“We’re going to Voca City. It’s about a two day’s travel. The next Temple will be there.”

“What can you tell me about Voca City?”

It’s best if I have any pieces of information, particularly about the lesser god that dwells in that city. Though since I didn’t specify, Mercy provides me with the general info.

We’re on the current path to the Elven territory, with Voca City being their capital. Since the forest is deep inside the Hasa Tree Forest, there are many monsters and beasts roaming around. The Mercenary Guild established their branch in Voca for that explicit reason.

‘The Hasa Tree… I assume it’s that giant tree I keep seeing towards the north.’

“Speaking of the elves, who is their leader?”

Mercy shakes her head, hesitant in her next words. “I know little about him, but…”

That’s what she says, but she sure hears a lot of rumors and gossip. It appears Grand Elder Remere claimed the title after the Crusu War took his father’s life. Having a lot of territories lost along with their capital city, he immediately went to work on building a new capital. However, because of the war, no Gods would aid the elves. That’s until Vocal arrived.

Vocal? Voca City? I don’t want to assume, so I ask, “And this is the reason why it’s called Voca City is because of Vocal?”

“Yes.”

‘The town of Landan—Landao. Voca City—Vocal. Seriously? Haaah…’

My palm feels hot against my face. Through the gaps in between my fingers, I spot the sister stealing several glances at me. I sense her wants and how it clings to me with such a grip. Well, whatever it is, she can bring it up herself.

To my surprise, she does.

“May I ask a question?” The timidness from last night is nonexistent, now it’s just a formality.

“Then ask.”

That shyness reappears as she stumbles. “I heard you left your room last night. W-what did you do last night?”

Thinking back to yesterday and that blurry man’s face… it’s nettlesome to even consider mentioning. “Nothing much. I wandered around and settled down after a while. Did you check on that gaunt lady?”

“Miss Reilly? Yes, I did. It surprised me to see her recover so quickly. Did you see her last night?”

“By chance, yes.”

Her pace diminishes, fingers wrapped in prayer, she voices, “I don’t know what you did, but thank you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“You are a fool if you believe you can repay a God, let alone offset for a stranger.” Her shoulders jolt at my retort. “But I appreciate the gesture. Now, let’s keep going.”

“Yes.” She follows suit. “It’s a short walk to the town of Elora, but we should be able to catch a ride with travelers on the road to Voca City.”

“And is there a lesser god in that town?”

“Y-yes. It is the God Norus.”

‘I know little about Norus, but at least the town isn’t named after him.’

“How long will it take to get to Elora?”

She raises an open hand in response. “About five hours.”

Figures. You’d think the Church would’ve provided her with a horse for her pilgrimage. The journey continues regardless of my complaints.

The Sister’s behavior is odd. She answers with barely any hesitation, yet she withdraws at my acknowledgment. Mercy averts my gaze, yet keeps her head high instead of sulking. She matches my stride, keeping a close distance. Yesterday, she was an apologetic mess, until I gave her a bit of my essence. Although it should’ve worn off by now.

Mortals have a tolerance of a God’s presence and how much essence they can maintain. Hit that limit and their body will break down. Anything before that can make mortals feel however the Gods wish. The Faithfuls call it a blessing, while the heretics call it a lethal, and addictive drug.

Like any other tolerance, it can be improved to a certain extent. The higher the tolerance, the more the Gods can make their puppets dance.

‘I gave her a small dose because I know she’s only ever encountered lesser gods, else she’d be struck with a high fever. It shouldn’t be lasting this long. Yet here she is, acting as if it’s never left. I feel… I feel like I’ve heard about this back in the Palaces.’

“How are you feeling, Mercy?”

She turns her head in my direction, seemingly in awe of my question. “I feel fine, Goddess.”

Should she really be in awe of such a question? Either way, I punch in another question. “Are you always this quick to adapt?”

“Huh?”

I don’t repeat myself and she’s too bashful now to pursue, so this conversation’s never finished. She still keeps her pace by my side, but her eyes are darting all over the ground. I can see the steam coming out of her head as the gears grind in her head. The question I asked was ambiguous for her, after all.

Her tolerance might already be near the level of a Saint. It is a necessity, as they are the ones who often interact with Gods. She’s still fairly young. Does that mean she has potential to surpass the tolerance of Saints? It is most intriguing.

For a Goddess, it seems I’ve taken my realm for granted. Comparing this drab flatland to the Flower Palace in terms of scenery would be to mock our very own existence. However, the Palaces are nothing but a rat cage in terms of size. I can walk on this land for miles before reaching the sea. It’s refreshing.

‘Still, I would prefer to be in a carriage.’

Mercy rubs her arms as if a chill dripped down her spine. Under her breath, she mumbles, “How scary…”

“Hm?”

“It’s almost as if the atmosphere has changed. I felt the same way when I got near Landan.” Her fingers tremble, but she marches on.

It’s not just the atmosphere, your vision of the world brightens as you move further away from this dry spot. Most mortals can’t differentiate this.

‘Her high tolerance. The fact that she’s able to sense the atmosphere. The puzzle continues to be unsolved, yet it feels like I already have all the pieces.’

Either way, the Sister deserves a reward. “That is the withdrawn effect.”

“Withdrawn…?” Her hand wraps around her chin as she wonders about that term. “Do you mean this is what happens when there is no God to bless the land?”

“Did the church teach you that?”

Mercy draws her hands closer to her chest, elaborating, “Any time a God abandons their town, a dry spell always follows. The priests have always told me that the Gods leave us because we have sinned.”

That’s funny. “Hmph. Maybe if you’d ‘sinned’ more, those lesser gods would’ve taken more interest.”

“But why would the Gods want such a thing?”

I shrug. The answer is simple. “Because they get bored. Does it have to be grandiose?”

“But—”

“Tell me, Mercy. Who do you believe? The words of a mortal, or the words from the Goddess standing before you?”

Her lips purse, but she forces it open regardless. “I-it’s just that these are the teachings I’ve learned ever since I was a child.”

“Then I’d suggest you throw those ‘teachings’ away.”

“But wouldn’t that mean my pilgrimage would be for naught?”

Her worries finally surface. Took her long enough. I halt our journey, deep in thoughts. Mercy doesn’t speak. Instead, she waits for my next move.

“I wouldn’t say for naught. A Saint is one of the highest positions you can get, is it not? There aren’t a lot of Saints—” that are alive, anyway “—so you would have power and influence in these lands. You could even become the High Priestess.”

The girl relinquishes a somber smile, her right hand kneading the knuckles of her other hand. Her attention focused. She doesn’t look up at me. I bite the upcoming words and instead ask, “Tell me, why do you want to become a Saint?”

“That’s…” She stops, and hurries on to the next destination. Not even a glance back.

‘Did I strike a nerve?’

I trail behind, having a few thoughts of my own and negating the world around me. It seems even the Sister has secrets. Before I could pick up the pace, I noticed Mercy’s already by my side once more. Even upset, she doesn’t intend to leave me behind.