Eventually, the dome of golden light that had surrounded the others faded away. From Dia’s point of view, though, it seemed like this was a measure enacted by the five grand skies to prevent the Moons from learning about the spiritual structure of her Domain of Swords and whatever other skills the others had chosen to evolve. This, however, had a few implications.

The Moons didn’t know everything.

More importantly, the five grand skies actually had knowledge about what the Moons knew and didn’t. The implications, naturally, were a bit obvious — the Moons were the equals of the Dark, but were inferiors to the very heavens.

All this matched with the information Dia had gleaned so far, with this entire game being overseen by the five grand skies making it clear. What, then, was the goal of the Fourth Godsfall?

She looked at the others, and then shook her head. Now was not the time to ponder on things like this, and such discussions were often more fruitful when done with other people in attendance. Rather than to stew on issues like this alone and come up with wild theories…

Dia looked at the Blue Moon again, and this time, her gaze didn’t go unnoticed. The Blue Moon made another sound in response, and Dia braced herself for a world of hurt, but there wasn’t any mind-splitting sensation this time.

“…hm?” Dia froze as the massive volume of information that entered her head did so without causing her any pain. Within a single second, she had processed the Blue Moon’s concern, explanation about the process — which was the longest — and then the query about its second gift. At the same time, the Blue Moon had also added that this information was directly solely at Dia herself, and that the others could no longer receive it. Another explanation about why Nero couldn’t do the interpreting was tacked on at the very end.

Bundled with this huge set of words and concepts were accompanying numbers and other weird terms that Dia couldn’t understand at all. Most of the burden in this information transfer, however, actually came from these sets of data, which was probably the Blue Moon’s way of backing up its words.

Dia raised a finger, indicating her desire to speak.

Another noise followed, and once again, the information data of the Blue Moon allowing her to speak was accompanied with all this random, superfluous data.

Opening her mouth, Dia was preparing to speak her thoughts about this horribly problematic way of communicating with others when the question about whether she should hit her. She pondered on this very essential question for a moment, weighed the probability of them returning for another audience with the Moons, and then decided that running the risk of what essentially was blasphemy was not worth it.

But…

Dia couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad for the Blue Moon, who probably never had the chance to interact with humans properly, since what typically happened was them just rolling on the floor. It wouldn’t hurt, right?

More importantly, the Blue Moon seemed like a nice person.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” Dia muttered, before saying, “Um…Blue Moon, maybe you could change the way you transmit information?”

The blue sphere made a sound, and Dia took a deep breath. Her initial impression of the Blue Moon as someone nice and reasonable hadn’t been off, and she pressed on by saying, “We’re hurting because you send a lot of background information to us. I’m not sure what ‘Existential Handshake Protocol Data Table’ is, but we don’t communicate while sending that. It’s…just not how that works. We humans generally can’t take in all that information at once.”

Another sound followed, but this time, Dia could vaguely make out, “Like this?”

“Yeah, but the words ‘like this’ seem to be affected by something. Some…” Dia thought for a moment. “Something layered over. The words themselves will do, uh, Blue Moon.”

The sphere paused. “Like this?”

Dia’s eyes brightened up. “Yes, exactly like this. The words will do! Now everyone can understand you!”

“…It’s that easy?” Plota asked. “Why, then, didn’t anyone tell me or us about this? Do they like being flooded with information? Or do they not like us speaking to them often?”

Dia blinked. She hadn’t expected the Blue Moon to display such…human sentiments. It reminded her of school, when some lonely noble wondered why the others weren’t talking to them all that much. Did she do something wrong? Or were the others just not compatible with them?

She looked at the Blue Moon, and then smiled, recalling the answer that she had been given once she puckered up the courage to ask.

“Everyone is just scared of your status,” Dia replied. “It’s just that. You’re a divine being with mighty, mighty powers. No one dares to say that the way you do things is wrong.”

She smiled. It was an answer she too had received as a student. As a scion of the highest ranking noble in the Lustre Dukedom, no one dared to approach her save through her retainers. Dia, back then, had thought that no one liked her for some reason, and elected not to force herself onto them.

It was a bit too late when she found out the reason.

“That’s all, really,” Dia murmured. “It’s just that we’re scared, and we don’t really know how to interact with you.”

The Blue Moon’s light flickered once. “Is this fine?”

This time, the others turned to look at the Blue Moon, and an air of relief seemed to emanate from the throne. “Can everyone hear me properly? Are there no heads exploding?”

Dia winced at that last bit.

The others looked at each other for a moment, and then Farah said, “W-we can hear you, O Blue Moon. Thank you for your concern.”

A small crease appeared on Dia’s eyebrows. Did they not notice her conversation with the Blue Moon? Or did they not figure out that the immense, pointless information bundled with Plota’s utterance was the reason why they fell over earlier?

“Thank you.” Plota paused, its voice still carrying a touch of uncertainty. “H-has everyone received their first payment?”

“Yes, O Blue Moon,” Farah replied.

“The second is to raise everyone’s Mana Control Proficiency by one rank, r-right?” Plota asked. “Prepare.”

Before Dia’s eyes, the air around the others seemed to change, and that odd mirage enveloped her a moment later. It seemed to dig deep into her very existence, remoulding it in a way that she had never experienced before. Her ability to sense her surroundings had been polished; it was as if she had been looking at things through a blurry window in the past.

The sensation lasted for a while, but the notification that she had been expecting didn’t pop up after it faded away. While the improvement had stayed, her Mana Control Proficiency hadn’t changed.

“Umm…”

The Blue Moon’s focus fell on her once more, something she could visibly feel. There was a soft touch to it, though, like a grandfather who was talking to his favourite grandchild or something. “I’m sorry, little one. The laws of this world dictate that the highest Mana Control Proficiency for mortals below the middle-rank can only be Intermediate, unless they have certain skills. However, with my blessing, you will immediately advance to Expert once you complete the Second Tutorial.”

There was a slight pause. “I will grant you an unparalleled skill to navigate you through the perils of the Second Tutorial.”

[Under the light of the Blue Moon, you have learned the passive skill, Introspection!]

“Introspection is a skill specific to me and my Blessed,” Porta added. “Unfortunately, he didn’t make use of it much. Maybe that was why he was killed.”

There was a touch of sadness in Porta’s words. “I hope you can use it more often. It will allow you to rationally assess yourself at any point of time, under nearly any circumstance. It will also protect you from mental erosion and other related ailments. This skill will help you overcome the Second and the Third Tutorial.”

Dia nodded. “Thank you.”

She could already feel the effects of the skill.

“I should thank you instead.” The Blue Moon paused. “Do drop by more often. Or…well, I suppose you wouldn’t, would you? Well, please do consider it. Now then, the last gift is an easy one.”

[You have learned the passive skill, Projectile Evasion!]

“I will now send everyone off to the principal planners,” Plota added. “They will brief you on your duties.”

The throne room began to fade, and in that instant, Dia could vaguely make out how the usual meetings with the mana-users before them had played out. There would be a bunch of people lying on the ground or slumped over, receiving their rewards as the Blue Moon failed to reach them with its words.

It was…a depressing sight, to say the least.

With some pity in her heart, Dia steeled herself and waited for the scene all around her to reform.

As a small room appeared, she glanced down at her right hand. “Hmm? What’s this?”