Their so-called sanctum was, in truth, a VIP booth inside this bar-like temple.
The door slid open; a thick wine-fragrance rolled out like warm fog.
The booth was broad, and packed with people.
A beautiful girl, exuding a strange aura, lounged with elegant laziness on the central, most lavish jade chair.
When Shelika entered amid a small retinue, the girl yawned, lazy as a cat. “Oh~~ I’ve been waiting forever.”
A prickle of unease touched Shelika’s heart. “You are… the god of wine, Dilnis?”
With those unmistakable features and attire so pristine it turned teasingly sensual, the girl looked every bit a succubus.
“What else?” Dilnis sat side-saddle, her little devil tail swaying. “I’m the god of wine, Dilnis.”
She spoke as she settled upright.
Shelika noticed a basin of wine set before her.
Once upright, the goddess slid her feet—sheer black silk clinging like midnight water—into the basin.
At once, several men of obvious rank knelt around the basin, rolling up their sleeves like ritual butchers.
Shelika’s brow tightened. Foot spa?
Confusion curdled. The dignified men let madness bloom across their faces—
Ignoring the goddess’s feet in the wine, they plunged with wet plops, heads to the rim, slurping like dogs at a trough.
“It’s Lord Dilnis’s scent!”
“Ahhh~~ how intoxicating.”
“To drink Lord Dilnis’s foot-washing wine—my life is complete!”
Shelika was stunned, mind blank as scraped glass.
Dilnis, however, glowed with pride. She smiled. “See? My believers. Look how devout they are.”
“They… are certainly devout.”
“You want in?” Dilnis smiled. “If it’s you, I’ll reserve a special spot.”
“I’ll pass.” Shelika’s tone stayed cool, a fan closing.
“No?” Dilnis sounded disappointed.
Shelika carefully drew the offering wine from her satchel, shook the neck as a sign. “As you asked, I brought your wine.”
“Mm. Let me see…” She extended a slender hand, fingers catching light like lacquered nails. The bottle floated from Shelika’s grip into her palm.
Under the temple’s dim, sultry lamps, Dilnis tilted the bottle, studying its body.
“These patterns… eastern craft. The carving… Master Herman, perhaps?” She appraised it like a collector.
“The bottle’s a treasure. Let’s see if the wine sings~~” She let go; the bottle hung in the air. A goblet flew in from nowhere.
The goblet was exquisitely wrought. She poured a single spoonful. The cup took the wine, and its bowl began to glow.
She watched the faint gold pulse, then closed her eyes, sipping as she breathed the bouquet.
“The scent is sunlit and singular—berries from the southwestern Barton lands. Then a deep, fragrant palate. Hm…”
Her face, haunting and precise, shifted—drunk or pondering, hard to tell.
“Interesting. I can’t quite place it~~” She smiled, amused.
Impatience pricked Shelika like sand under silk. “Can you enhance my weapon now?”
“The wine is good,” Dilnis arched a brow, slightly miffed. “But as a supplicant, show some respect. Look at my faithful~~”
She gestured. The basin, feet immersed, had been drained. Even empty, the men stretched their tongues to scrape the bottom.
“Ahhh~~ the basin Lord Dilnis stepped on!”
“Damn, I wish I were that basin, stomped all day, heh heh!”
“You’re disgusting! A basin? Back off. I’m a righteous man—I’ll be the one handling Lord Dilnis’s intimate garments!”
“What?! How dare you—blasphemer!”
“You’re the blasphemer!”
They went rabid, brawling like stray dogs.
Shelika watched, speechless, her patience thinning like frost in sun.
“See how devout they are~~” Dilnis basked in it.
To Shelika, Dilnis herself was no less exasperating.
When the farce cooled, Shelika repeated, steady as a drawn blade: “I brought the wine as agreed. Honor the deal.”
“Yes, yes~~ I hear you.” Dilnis floated lightly, then sank back into the jade chair. “You want your weapon enhanced~~ Did you bring it?”
“I did.”
She drew the True Crimson Whirl. “Will this do?”
“Mm, mm…” Dilnis weighed it. “I can. But you only get one upgrade. Sure you want to turn this middling piece into a divine-force weapon?”
Hearing “middling,” Shelika produced the Sirius Sword.
“And this?”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” Dilnis said, glancing at the blade. “But that one’s a knight’s Battle Aura stone armament. Even with divine force, you’re a mage. You won’t use it. You sure?”
Lance’s Sirius Sword, and Shelika’s True Crimson Whirl.
Whichever became divine meant Fulin’s corresponding role could fight the god-blessed.
After minutes of quiet weighing, Shelika decided. “Enhance this one.” She bared the True Crimson Whirl.
Among the two faces Fulin played, Shelika was likelier to face the god-blessed. The need pressed like a storm-front.
Of course, in the long arc, Lance might meet them too.
On the other hand, the True Crimson Whirl was a casting focus, and “Lance” had passable arcane talent. Not as sharp as “Shelika,” but enough in a pinch.
So, to Fulin, elevating the True Crimson Whirl to a divine-force weapon balanced both paths best.
Dilnis knew none of that.
This offbeat deity simply fretted about upgrading a quirky, not-exactly-excellent weapon.
Seeing Shelika’s resolve, she sighed. “So this one. Fine~~”
She took the True Crimson Whirl from her hands.
She looked it over. “Interesting. A sword married to a staff…”
After another moment of study, she summoned her power. “In the name of Dilnis.”
Colorful radiance rose over the succubus-like girl, a prism of divine force.
The light gathered into the weapon in her hands.
At first it pooled. Then, under the influence, the blade itself burst with color.
The sight widened Shelika’s world like a window flung open.
It ended quickly. Dilnis let it hover, then flicked a “go” gesture. The weapon flew to Shelika.
Shelika stared at the True Crimson Whirl hanging in the air. Its blade bled a faint divine sheen, a new power she had never felt.
To think this came from that offbeat, succubus-like girl—unbelievable.
Dilnis pointed at the blade, voice gaining force. “Done. From now on, this sword carries my divine force—”
“And you, Shelika, as its bearer—I grant you a special divine art through the True Crimson Whirl: Feast of Night Domain.”
