While Shelika’s thoughts knotted like creeping vines, Rex on the main podium caught sight of her, a hawk’s glance sweeping the crowd.

So many eyes on him. He hesitated, then stuck to the speech he’d planned, voice steady like drumbeats rolling across a plain.

He paused before the hundreds of pilgrims and said, “Citizens of the Empire, greetings. I am—”

Rex gave the usual self-introduction: born of the Demonic Human Race, serving with the Gaia Legion, an officer of the Shadowspirit Legion, and so on.

It felt redundant, but many pilgrims were from remote regions and had never heard his name. The simple ritual of words planted a rough outline of Rex in their minds.

Several pilgrims nodded, sighs like wind through reeds. “So that’s Rex… young and capable.”

The Shadowspirit Legion officer named Rex ended his introduction, then cut straight to the heart of the speech.

“As you know, our Gaia Legion fights to trade quiet back to this land. We battle the White Spirits. Victory was in our hands, but the enemy has committed their secret weapon—”

“Their secret weapon is powerful, pressing hard against our warriors at the front—”

“To guard our homeland, to honor the Earth Mother who watches us day and night, to drive the White Spirits who stain the soil from our ground, we will enact the ‘Hymn Rite’ recorded in the sacred canon—”

“The Hymn Rite is a ceremony that summons the great, ancient Wasteland Deity. We have already succeeded in summoning one such Deity, and we have called forth the spirit of a mighty war god—”

“Here and now, we say it plainly: this battle is ours to win! Soon, the people of the earth, the Demonic Humans, and the Blood Clan will join hands—and we will personally put an end to this long war.”

Rex’s words and the priests’ chorus struck sparks. The crowd’s fervor rose like brushfire.

Applause broke like thunder and rain, and the pilgrims’ cheers rolled on without end.

“The Gaia Legion will prevail!”

“The Earth Mother is with us!”

“Long live the Gaia Empire!”

The frenzy pressed in like a stormfront, and Shelika felt out of place, a lone reed bent by cold rain.

She knew why the priests staged this—knit the people together, keep fear from seeping like frost into the days ahead.

Yet the need for a staged blaze of hope said something too: maybe they lacked enough faith in the Hymn Project.

The crowd burned too hot for information-gathering now. Shelika exhaled and decided, “I’ll come back another day.”

Tomorrow or the day after. After they move their propaganda elsewhere. After the Outer Hall of the Earth Mother quiets like dusk.

Mostly, it was because of Rex. Shelika didn’t want fresh entanglements, silk threads tightening with each word.

Decision made, she drifted backward through the crowd like a shadow at twilight, slipped out of the chapel, and returned to the corridor of the Earth Mother’s Outer Hall.

Once she crossed that corridor, she’d be outside.

Just as she was about to leave, Rex came up behind her, footsteps quick, two attendants in tow.

He called, breath tugging like a gust, “Shelika, please wait!”

Her impulse was to let the wind carry the call away and keep walking. Emotion first—annoyance pricked like nettles.

She had to stop. She turned slowly. “Do you need something, Rex?” The words were cool, like water over stone.

“Shelika, it is you…” Relief softened him for a heartbeat, then reproach edged in. “Tell me, why did you leave so fast last night?”

Shelika kept silent. Her thoughts tangled. She couldn’t say she hurried off because she didn’t want to see him.

Her conflicted face, in Rex’s worried eyes, looked like a secret pain she couldn’t voice.

He grew more concerned. “Shelika, are you in some kind of trouble?”

He patted his chest, a soldier’s promise like a shield raised. “Don’t be afraid. I’m a knight with the Legion’s Hymn Guard now. If there’s trouble, speak to me. No one will dare make things hard for you!”

His over-bright warmth stung like noon glare. Shelika felt vexed.

Vexation nudged truth loose. “Then please don’t bother this humble self. You’re always like this. It’s… annoying.”

“You said I annoy you…” Rex stood there, a lone figure in an autumn wind.

Shelika didn’t look back. She walked through the corridor and out of the Outer Hall, the door closing like a leaf falling.

On the street, with no one clinging to her, a clean breeze lifted her mood.

It was noon. Temple Street, with fewer people, lay quieter than usual, sunlight pooling like warm tea.

Shelika took out her pocket watch. 12:30.

“Delicious Grand Demon Shrimp” didn’t open till later.

She had time, but it wasn’t wise to go back to the Earth Mother’s Outer Hall for intel.

She thought of Charlotte, working at the supermarket.

She remembered the pair of faint dark circles under Charlotte’s eyes when they parted that morning, rest like a shallow pond.

Worry rose, a small wave. “Let’s go check on Charlotte.”

Shelika pulled out her map, traced the route to Commercial Street like a finger along a river, and set off.

At this hour, there were few ordinary folk on the road, mostly patrolling knights, armor glinting like fish scales.

A trio walked ahead of her. The Dark Blood Clan hear keenly; even five meters apart, Shelika ‘overheard’ their talk.

“They say the Wasteland Deity plans to move.”

“What? Where to?”

“Heard it’ll act after the next worship day—”

“Figures—”

For Shelika, only those bits mattered. The rest was chaff blown by idle wind.

From Temple Street’s Outer Hall to Commercial Street was a short walk. Soon, she stepped into its flow.

Commercial Street wasn’t Temple Street. Even by day, it throbbed with life, a gradient thickening into a lush forest of shops and voices.

Shelika looked at the scene and sighed, a leaf turning in her chest. “So this is the Holy City—Diarama.”

She didn’t linger in her thoughts. She opened her map again.

She’d received it upon entering the Holy City. It sketched the city’s bones and avenues, marked landmarks, even named certain shops.

Her gaze settled on the Commercial Street grid. Memory pulled thread from yesterday.

With map and memory as twin stars, she found Charlotte’s workplace: the Wild Rhino General Store.

It specialized in local goods, and sold daily supplies and simple self-defense weapons, steel like moonlit water.

As Shelika stepped inside, a salesman hurried up, smile bright like lacquer.

“Oh~~ dear customer. Oh—you are…” He clearly remembered her from yesterday. Thought for a beat, then brightened. “You’re that mage lady’s mother, Charlotte’s mother, right?”

Heat flared under Shelika’s ribs like a spark, but she pressed it down and offered a gentle smile edged with steel. “I’m Charlotte’s friend. Don’t forget that next time.”

“Y-yes, yes…” Cold sweat traced the salesman’s back like rain.

“Good.”

When the air settled, the salesman tapped his temple. “Where was I?”

He struck the memory again. “Right. We were hoping to find you, actually.”

“What is it?” Shelika asked, curiosity and caution circling like cats.

“About the mage girl.”

Unease rose in Shelika, a chill at the nape. “Did Charlotte cause trouble?”

“No. She works excellently.”

Relief streamed through her, warm as sunlight through shutters.

The man sighed. “It’s hard to explain. Best if you see for yourself.”

“Alright…” Puzzled yet curious, Shelika followed him to the rear racks.

The racks sprawled wide, almost twice the storefront. Wild Rhino did wholesale too, so even in the noon lull, the rack floor buzzed like a beehive.

In the aisles, they slipped past rhino carts loaded to the horns.

They reached Charlotte’s section. A few mages worked there as well, threads of spell-light weaving among crates.

Shelika arrived to find Charlotte arranging goods in perfect order, rhythm neat as stacked bricks.

She didn’t call out. She glanced at the salesman. “She’s doing great.”

“You’re right…” He began, then winced, a knot in his voice. “But the Crimson Temple found out she works here. They keep sending people to harass her.”

“Harass?” Shelika’s brows drew together, like two strokes of ink. She was sure she’d heard that word.

The salesman laid it out. “Yes. They come often. Once this morning. Once an hour ago. They’re probably due again. I was about to go looking for you—”

Before he finished, a group entered through the rack-floor doors—Crimson Temple acolytes, a four-person Dark Blood Clan team.

The salesman stiffened, tension like wire. “Hide. They’re here!”

He pulled out his staff, conjured a shadow patch behind the racks, and slipped inside, jerking a chin for Shelika to follow.

Shelika thought it a bit much, but hiding might help her learn more. She said nothing and stepped into the shade.

From the shadow, she kept watching.

Charlotte had been facing away. To unload another container, she turned this way—and Shelika finally saw it. Charlotte’s face was wan, her mood downcast, worry like a damp cloak clinging close.

While Charlotte focused on moving cargo with her spell, the four Dark Blood Clan approached from another aisle. Charlotte didn’t notice.

The one who seemed in charge saw that and bristled, slapping a board with a loud crack to draw eyes. Chin high, she barked, “Hey!! Charlotte. Answer me!”

Even called out like that, Charlotte first set the cargo down with care, made sure her work was intact. Her body trembled once, a leaf shiver.

Then she turned to them. Even under their anger, habit made her play cute. “Ehehe~~ Charlotte forgot~~”

The woman raised her volume and slapped the board again. “Drop the act! Lady Cerise wants your answer today. Understood?!”

Charlotte’s head drooped like a wronged rabbit. Her twin ponytails seemed to shrink, and at last her true mood showed—dim and small. “Charlotte understands… Charlotte will talk properly with big sister…”