Chapter 18: I Pray to the Gods

A Heretic’s Realization

Suddenly, Weng realized a possibility. Perhaps her lack of piety wasn’t the issue. Could a god ever respond to someone from another world? By that logic, wasn’t she a heretic in some form? Emerging from meditation, she found the gathering over. Vey dozed on the desk extending from the front pew. Vik was nowhere in the room. Behind her, Rila’s voice bid farewell to the crowd. “…See you tomorrow.” Quietly, Weng approached her. “Finished?” “Yes, you slept two hours,” Rila teased, unsurprised by her presence. “No way…” Weng didn’t explain. “Where’s Vik?” “Left halfway.” Nodding, the girl said, “I’m heading back. Vey’s still asleep.” Rila agreed to watch her, handing Weng a rune. If the barrier stirred, it would react.

Moonlit Reflections

Moonlight lit the dirt path through the fields. Weng recalled her childhood hometown—big moon, bright sky, twinkling stars. A summer glance upward brought a shiver. After countless years here, such scenes lived only in fleeting memories. Maple Whisper Village’s fields were nearly harvested. Point notifications pinged steadily these days. Not just the west field’s pumpkins—valley crops were ripening too. The outer farms, tied to the domain, had mixed fates. Yet, in this chaos, more full bellies warmed Weng’s heart. Lately, her mind felt scattered. Strolling, she sorted her thoughts. Recent events, when viewed calmly, held no cause for dispute. Leaving was her choice; she’d already taken the dragon egg. Perhaps it linked to meeting Vik, but that was conjecture. Had she left it, the mine incident was likely inevitable. Worse, she’d lack Vik’s safety net. Contentment sufficed. Always one step at a time? The timing wasn’t right.

A Familiar Blade

Back at the treehouse, Weng opened the storage. She dug out a dusty wooden sword. Last used when teaching Claude to swing. Her skill was mediocre, honed only through repetition. More like exercise than mastery. Unlike the [Witch] path’s clear tiers, physical growth wasn’t quantified. Groping blindly, she had no gauge of her level. Prayers to gods were futile. Weng relied solely on herself—no one to back her up. Thus, every step felt hesitant. Yet, she felt bolder now, having ventured out. Her goal: grow stronger, tackle past impossibilities. Life was about trying and failing. Surviving was enough.

Meditation and Progress

In her room, Weng drank a potion, accumulating [Holiness] points. Settling into position, she meditated again. [Blood Qi -0.01] [Blood Qi -0.01] … [Plague Resistance Increased] [Curse Resistance Increased] [Holiness lv.2 (782/1000)] Ignoring the prompts, she silenced them. Her consciousness sank; no church visions appeared. Thus, her doubts were shelved. In the quiet night, her mental refinement deepened. The lampfruit’s glow faded. Outside, darkness waned, dawn creeping over treetops. Morning breeze brought damp air into the still room. Opening her eyes, her transcendent aura calmed. The path felt distant, even near advancement. One night’s practice seemed to yield little. How had she endured before?

Morning Repairs

After washing, Weng pushed the creaky door. Squeak— Always forgetting to fix it. Do it now, or laziness would ruin the day. Barefoot, she stepped onto the platform’s railing. The cool wood sent a chill through her. Morning breezes felt crisp. The sky was hazy—fog or rain? A new season whispered. Suddenly, she noticed the mountains draped in red. Autumn had fully arrived. Flipping downstairs, she searched the storage for tools. There used to be stairs, but they broke. Vey complained about climbing ladders. Fix them too? Wood was scarce; she’d wait. Swapping the door’s hinge, she oiled it. Mid-repair, a sound approached.

An Early Encounter

Expecting Vey, Weng leisurely packed her tools. At the railing, she saw Vik with a bucket and rod, passing the pavilion. “Up so early, Mr. Vik.” Pausing, she called politely after a moment’s daze. “Not too early,” he replied, smiling. “Join me?” He meant fishing. No issue for Weng—not pride in her skills (stubborn.png). But priorities came first. “I’ve got things to handle—” Nodding, Vik headed to the lake, blending in like a longtime villager. She wasn’t dodging. Early thoughts of exploiting him for loot or info had faded. Now, she just wanted to thank him. Even if she wouldn’t have died yesterday, his help was real. She wasn’t unreasonable.

Checking the Forge

After tidying, Weng visited the workshop. Post-incident, the blacksmith’s operations had halted. No rush there. Instead, she might not need complex methods for advancement items. Heading to the deep mountain mine, she passed patrolling soldiers. With nothing to report, she went straight to the core. The rift still glowed faintly. Energy in the air vibrated actively. She sensed the magical essence’s hum. Approaching, it stabilized around her. [Blessing of Affinity] activated.

Crafting a Crystal

Sitting cross-legged, her silver hair reflected the rift’s dim light. Elusive matter was grasped by her magic. Patiently, she refined it. Gradually, another crystal formed in her palm. Familiar fluctuations. Neither dry nor wet, neither cold nor hot. It defied the four elements’ nature. No, this wasn’t an “element.” Perhaps it wasn’t even “physical.”