"It feels a bit strange."
After the two returned to the room, Fannie stroked her chin, her gaze lingering meaningfully on Moen's face.
"What's wrong?"
Moen touched his cheek. "Is there something dirty on my face?"
"No, it's just that you seem to be in a bit of a bad mood."
Fannie glanced at Lea, then back at Moen, a gossipy expression on her face.
"Lea came back from her trip bursting with energy, but what's going on with you? Can good moods really be transferrable?"
"No."
Moen thought for a moment, then smiled faintly.
"It just feels like I’ve messed something up."
"Messed up what?"
"I don’t even know what I’ve messed up. Sometimes, I can’t quite figure out what’s on my own mind. Humans are such pitiful creatures."
After saying something utterly cryptic, Moen fell silent and went back to join Lea to continue the decoding work they had left unfinished before.
This left Fannie standing alone, blinking in thought.
---
"It’s definitely a journal."
Lea flipped open the battered book and shook her head regretfully. "Too bad it’s so heavily damaged. Otherwise, it might just have been our most important discovery so far."
"Can it be deciphered?"
"It’s possible."
Lea ran her fingers over the blurred text, worn down by the passage of time.
"Just don’t set your hopes too high. With damage like this, getting even one sentence out of each page would already be rare."
"Do your best," Moen said consolingly, without expecting a single journal to completely uncover the truth of this world.
---
---
"Praise the Goddess above. We’ve truly succeeded—we’ve created a perfect world, a world free of famine and suffering… All of this is thanks to the great Goddess. It was her power that brought us this far. Oh, great Goddess of Life, Emil, we will worship you forever."
---
"The seventh child has been born; I’m so happy I could cry. The child is happy too—she’s born into a wonderful world and will never know the chaos or horrors of the outside. Praise the Goddess."
---
"Praise the Goddess."
---
"The thirteenth child has been born. Praise the Goddess."
---
"That fool Good dared to blaspheme against the Goddess. He even had the audacity to despise the food personally bestowed upon us by the Goddess. No wonder he incurred divine punishment—he got what he deserved!"
"What could possibly be wrong? Isn’t this way of life perfect enough? What does he understand of anything?"
---
"Praise the Goddess."
---
"The boy from the family next door must weigh a thousand pounds by now, haha, he can’t even walk anymore. Not like me—when enjoying the bounty bestowed by the Goddess, I still rigorously exercise."
"There’s nothing else to do to expend my energy besides exercising. Life is truly peaceful."
"Praise the Goddess."
---
"Praise the Goddess."
"Praise the Goddess."
"The nineteenth child... The mother says she doesn’t want to have any more children. But if we don’t have children, then what else can we do?"
"Praise..."
"Praise [blacked out]."
"[Blacked out]."
"Damn it, those people have started again. Can’t they just behave? Conflict is not allowed. This world must remain peaceful. That’s the vow we made before the Goddess."
---
"Never mind. [Blacked out] will handle it."
---
"[Blacked out]."
"[Blacked out]."
"[Blacked out]."
---
"Someone sent a report saying that the days are getting shorter. I thought, how could that be? When we created this world, we specifically designed a day to fit the most suitable work and rest balance for humans: fourteen hours of daylight and ten hours of night. How could there be a mistake?"
---
"It’s true—the days are growing shorter, and the nights longer. Investigating the cause now."
---
"It’s [blacked out]! It’s [blacked out]! That guy was one of us when we created this world—why would he… why would he... summon the evil Outer God? Has he gone mad? Mad?! Damn him! Damn him! [Blacked out] [Blacked out] [Blacked out]!"
---
"The Dark God is… [blacked out]!"
---
"The Dark God’s power is too frightening. We can feel this world being steadily eroded. Another village was transformed into those creatures overnight."
"The decay grows worse..."
"You must not eat at night—it will make you sick."
"Hah, sickness... How do you treat illnesses again? I’ve forgotten."
---
"Things are growing more chaotic. Oh, great Goddess, Emil, please save us. Please guide us, your lost lambs."
---
"Damn it, someone else has been consumed and corrupted by the Dark God. No, I must do something. Canterwell is the only refuge we have left. We can no longer survive the chaos and strife of the outside world. I must protect it!"
---
"Why don’t they understand what I’m trying to do?"
---
"They’ve been corrupted by the Dark God too!!! [Blacked out]."
---
"There’s only one way left. [Blacked out][Blacked out][Blacked out]."
---
"Some people have different ideas. Those people are traitors! Heretics cannot be tolerated!"
---
"I did it. Haha, I succeeded. It proves that I was right all along!"
---
"The walls might just be able to keep out the corruption."
---
"What’s that round thing in the night sky? It looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite recall."
---
"[Blacked out]."
---
"I think I’m going to die. But I’m not afraid. I will return to the Goddess’s embrace."
"The Goddess’s embrace… Oh, how beautiful it must be."
"Those people who believed in the Dark God, who were corrupted and turned into monsters—haha, serves them right! How dare they believe the Dark God—they deserve it, they all deserve it!"
---
"Praise the Goddess."
---
"[Blacked out]."
"[Blacked out]."
"[Blacked out]."
---
---
"That’s everything."
After flipping back and forth through the final page to confirm, Lea let out a deep breath, closed the journal slowly, and looked up at the people gathered around her.
"Decoding complete."
"…"
The group exchanged glances, still digesting the journal’s contents, unable to speak for a long time.
The words in the journal weren’t exactly earth-shattering. Much of the valuable information remained indiscernible—for example, the identity of the Dark God that had corrupted this world.
But there was something unsettling about the whole thing.
In the end, it was Moen who broke the silence, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"From the wording, it seems certain that the original inhabitants of Canterwell worshiped the Goddess of Life, Emil."
"That does appear to be the case," Fannie nodded.
"But this so-called Golden Kingdom doesn’t seem all that great."
Serville, who had shamelessly sidled up to them, commented with sensitivity to certain key phrases.
"The later entries clearly reflect the writer’s irritation. Even if it’s not explicitly stated, you can sense his dissatisfaction with this so-called perfect world."
"That’s because they didn’t use the Goddess’s powers properly!"
Lea clenched her small fists in rebuttal.
"Trying to create a world where happiness comes without labor—how could it possibly be that easy?"
"But they succeeded, didn’t they?"
Vicky, looking much better than before, added,
"It was only because of the Dark God’s invasion that things ended up like this."
"That just proves their faith wasn’t devout enough," Lea muttered softly, pouting.
"If they had been truly devout, the Goddess wouldn’t have blessed them with so much power. Who could’ve known they’d use it for something like this? The Goddess doesn’t care."
"Alright, alright, this isn’t the time for debating," Moen said with a chuckle, glancing at Lea and finding her increasingly endearing. But under Fannie’s peculiar gaze, he quickly turned away and continued,
"Still, I don’t think the fall of this ancient relic can be chalked up solely to the Dark God’s invasion. There must be other reasons."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because the timeline doesn’t match."
"The timeline?"
"Exactly," Moen explained.
"According to ancient texts, Canterwell disappeared from history during the Great Upheaval, over a thousand years ago, becoming what’s now known as The Lost Land.
But from the clues we’ve found, and the journal’s entries, the Dark God’s invasion seems to have happened just decades ago."
"I see," Lea murmured, recalling the information she had previously uncovered with Moen.
"What should we do next?"
"What else? Keep moving forward, of course," Moen replied, looking off into the distance. The colossal wall that merged with the sky still stood tall, as if it could truly block out everything.
"It seems our trials have only just begun."
---
---
"So this is the so-called passage?"
Moen stared at what looked like the entrance to a mine shaft, rubbing his chin as he remarked,
"It feels a bit... mundane."
As he spoke, he subtly swept his gaze around the area.
Not only was their group gathered here, but many others had also assembled. Most of them stood in groups of three or five, their faces weary, yet maintaining a wary vigilance toward one another.
It seemed that last night’s anomaly had forced this prideful crowd to gather together for mutual protection.
This inadvertently increased the difficulty.
Moen also spotted Arag among the crowd. The latter was accompanied by several mages, their insignias different but clearly marking them as members of the Tower of Origin. When Arag’s gaze briefly met Moen’s, he quickly averted his eyes, betraying his nervousness.
Moen smiled slightly without saying a word and continued collecting...
"Oh? You haven't died yet?"
A disgustingly arrogant voice rang out, causing the crowd to stir and make way.
A gigantic shadow was cast over Moen.
The tall, grotesque figure named Reta moved silently. Atop his shoulder sat a loli-sized girl with her arms crossed, looking down condescendingly.
"Oh? I see. So, you're just like those weaklings, huddling together for warmth?"
The candidate saintess Anne swept her gaze over the people around Moen and sneered:
"This certainly fits the image of you and that other candidate saintess of yours, but let me give you a piece of advice: you'd better quit while you still can. There won't be as much luck in the future."
"......"
A loli with a bad attitude—why was this one so unbearably annoying?
Moen seriously pondered for a moment, his peripheral vision scanning the surroundings.
Lea... forget it. At this moment, there's no need for her to step in.
"Servile."
"Huh? What's up?"
"Come here."
Moen beckoned, and Servile walked over with a confused expression.
"Stand here, face this way, arms crossed. Yes, just like that. Tighten them a bit more, and give it a little shake. Perfect."
When the action was complete, and Servile's chest—which, while not huge, was still ample enough to surpass most—was on full display in Anne's line of sight, Moen extended a single middle finger and said:
"None of your damn business, you damn ironing board."
