A sigh brushed her heart like wind over reeds; still, she didn’t chase it far. In the end, everyone had their post. Send the mad to battle. Set the gentle to welcome travelers.

One could say the Earth Mother Grand Hall fully carried out that division of roles in church affairs. In this theocratic nation, it forged solid governance.

While Shelika watched the harmony before her and drifted into thought, a priest approached. “Oh—what a rare guest, what a rare guest, beautiful lady of the Blood Clan~.”

At this time Shelika wore a veil over her face. It couldn’t hide the fine cut of her upper features, nor the lower half that imagination crowned as flawless beauty. But it hid her identity well. The priest didn’t recognize her.

He took her for a Dark Blood Clan seeker of shelter. He stepped closer, voice warm as spring water. “Do you have a petition? Shall I relay it to the Earth Mother for you?”

She sized him up, a glance like a blade behind silk. He seemed to work by the book, no guile. “If you don’t mind, may this humble one ask about recent church affairs?”

Church affairs covered broad ground. Teaching doctrine to the masses was church work. Lavish, exhausting ceremonies that drained coffers were also church work.

“No problem,” the bespectacled priest agreed. “So long as it’s within what I can answer.”

With his consent, she baited the hook for trust, as always, by crafting a cover. “I come from the empire’s south, around Oriel City.”

Her words flowed natural, her expression just right, not a seam showing. He didn’t doubt her at all. “A pleasure, citizen of Oriel City. The Earth Mother cherishes your efforts in holding the line.”

She pressed on, cutting straight to it. “I want to know this. Beasts are surging in the south. How is the Temple addressing it?”

Before moving to the heart of it, she meant to probe the link between the Wasteland Deity and the southern beast disasters.

The bespectacled priest dipped a small bow, then spoke slowly. “We’re aware. Three months ago, we contacted the legions and stationed an archmage to guard Oriel City. I believe our measures are sound.”

He wasn’t wrong. Even with a do-nothing city lord, Oriel City had repelled no fewer than ten beast tides under the Temple’s steady hand.

If not for the Heavenly Spirit Empire’s Strategy Bureau meddling, three more waves would have done it. The beasts would have been culled to the last. The Temple had gone above and beyond.

“May I take it that before ‘Divine Grace’ descended, the Temple already knew the beasts would surge?”

The priest hesitated a heartbeat. “Regretfully, we can’t comment on that.”

A cold certainty slid through her like a thin knife. As she’d suspected, the Temple knew summoning the Wasteland Deity carried a price, and meant to lay it on the people. The former Shelika had hated that. That was why she’d fought the Hymn Project.

Not all mercy, either. The former Shelika had feared larger backlash from the Hymn Project: blighted lands, tainted waters, soil gone sour, and more.

Worse still, she and her peers feared that after ‘Divine Grace’ would come ‘Divine Wrath.’

That wrath wasn’t the Earth Mother losing Her temper. It was Her attendant deities, whose power might slip the leash.

If the summoned Wasteland Deity lost control, the fallout could be vast. The Dark Spirit Empire might become a dead plain where not even grass grew. That was ‘Divine Wrath.’

Because she had named those risks, the radicals’ plan to summon the Wasteland Deity had stalled while Shelika was still in the empire.

Now it was different. The radicals seemed to have found a way to have their cake and eat it—

If divine power went wild, they could simply make the ‘Divine Wrath’ land outside the empire. Say, on the enemy Heavenly Spirit Empire. Or on one of its vassals, like the Doran Kingdom.

So Shelika judged the Wasteland Deity would not be unleashed yet, not unless they found a safe and steady way to transport it.

But the teleport node they’d struggled to set up at Doran Muwan Bay had been destroyed by Fulin.

Therefore, by her current intel, the Wasteland Deity housed in the Holy City’s inner district wouldn’t move for a while. A stone dropped from her heart. Knowing that alone made this trip to the Earth Mother’s Outer Hall worth it.

“May the Earth Mother guard you.”

“And you as well.”

After bidding the priest farewell, Shelika left the Earth Mother’s Outer Hall.

Thinking of how the priest clammed up at key points, she walked and sighed. “No use prying. There’s no more to dig out.”

She lifted her gaze to the afternoon sun, tilting west as evening crept in like a slow tide.

One glance, and her eyes went dry and sore, like sand blown into them.

She rubbed at them several times, the sting easing. Then it hit her. Watching sunsets was a habit from being human—being Lance for too long. Not a flaw, really. Sunset’s a treasure; one look shouldn’t hurt.

But the Dark Blood Clan shunned the sun. She’d carelessly forgotten, and her eyes had almost been scorched.

When the pain faded, Shelika pulled herself together. Afternoon was sliding to dusk; her shift was near. She murmured, “Time to clock in at ‘Delicious Grand Demon Shrimp.’”

With that, she left Temple Street and headed for the market district.

Following yesterday’s path, she soon found the ‘Delicious Grand Demon Shrimp’ restaurant.

The place ran like a night market stall, opening only around this hour.

The manager, Viktor of the Demonic Human Race, had the air of a master. His burly silhouette stood at the door like a statue. He watched several staff ready the opening.

Seeing someone approach, Viktor recognized Shelika. “Here to work, miss? Then no time like the present—”

He tossed her an apron and a few necessary tools with practiced ease.

Shelika tied the apron on where she stood and gripped the tools, ready to work.

Viktor, head chef and manager both, glanced at the grimy clock in the kitchen corner.

“You’re early today. Mm-hmm. You can work until ten tonight.”

“No problem.”

“Then get to it. Not many customers yet. Stand inside the door and be our greeter.”

“Alright…”

Shelika took her place by the ‘Delicious Grand Demon Shrimp’ entrance.

With her current stamina, she could stand forever. But people tire of repetition; boredom gnaws like mice. And Shelika was no longer quite people, was she?

So she didn’t last long. Bored, she slipped back into her seat.

Compared to yesterday, today was truly idle, like a pond without ripples.

Even so, a stunning girl in the shop drew eyes like moths to a lantern. Long legs in black stockings swayed under the apron, even while she did nothing.

Before the stool beneath her even warmed, people clustered at ‘Delicious Grand Demon Shrimp’s’ door like a forming eddy. Diners followed soon after.