At dawn, the carriage finally reached the next town. The proximity mines had long deactivated after Mio moved away, and she couldn’t help but feel a trace of sympathy for the werewolves who’d stayed frozen until morning. A drone circled above the settlement, confirming it was safe before the carriage entered.

The village was tiny—fewer than thirty households—surrounded by wooden palisades against beasts, a typical frontier outpost. Two wells stood in the square, and a river flowed nearby, ensuring ample water. Across the river, fields of corn and potatoes thrived under the sun.

Only one inn existed. Mio parked the carriage behind its stables. The burly innkeeper eyed their group of four with shifty triangular eyes. Mio and Aimee wore Hamodia Swordsmen insignias; Amber and Talasha hid their cat ears under hoods. Mio paid generously in silver coins, and without protest, the man handed over a key to a large room.

Mio checked the room first, setting motion sensors after confirming it was secure. By the time Aimee and Talasha arrived, both collapsed onto beds the moment they saw them. Mio drew a bucket of water from the well, washed Amber’s face and hands, then took her to the ground-floor dining hall. The meal was simple: bitter black bread, potato soup, and stewed beans—common frontier fare. Amber ate heartily, unbothered by the plain food. Mio softened her bread in the soup before feeding it to the child.

Back in their room, Talasha and Aimee were already fast asleep, exhaustion finally claiming them after a sleepless night.

After resting a full day and night, the group set off again at sunrise.

With four aboard, the carriage felt cramped. Camping supplies ran low—especially sleeping bags and blankets, enough for only three. Mio had bought extra food in the last town, but this impoverished village had no blankets to sell.

Around midday, Mio halted the carriage beside a clear stream off the forest road to prepare lunch.

Talasha’s cheerful nature quickly won everyone over. Humming a tune, she peeled potatoes, then tossed them into a pot with wild greens and dried meat strips. The thick stew, paired with black bread, made a satisfying meal.

Aimee took a cautious sip, then nodded. "Not bad. You pass."

Talasha’s tense shoulders relaxed instantly. Her whole face brightened, and even the tail hidden beneath her Forest Priestess robes wagged like a puppy’s.

Mio smiled wryly, tasting the stew. A delicious flavor bloomed on her tongue—the wild greens cut through the gaminess of the dried meat, elevating the humble potatoes. Between them, Amber devoured her portion, sauce smearing her cheeks.

And so, Talasha officially joined their party.

Logically, areas closer to the Imperial Capital should grow wealthier. Yet the opposite proved true. They passed several grand cities adorned with imperial statues and Roman-style monuments. But these places felt lifeless—nowhere near as vibrant as Seralni, a western border town. The closer they drew to the capital, the poorer the people became, while slave markets flourished. These central cities had larger slave auctions, with higher prices and more Imperial citizens sold into bondage after failing to repay debts.

"The Empire’s economy is deeply broken," Mio muttered. Talasha tilted her head, confused by the unfamiliar term.

Slave trading boomed while other industries withered—a bubble economy like overinflated real estate. Capital flooded into one unstable sector, crippling everything else. The Empire lacked economists; its subsistence-based structure should’ve prevented crises. Yet this distortion bred widespread poverty, driving citizens into slavery.

"How tragic..." Aimee sighed. "Two years ago, when I traveled this route, slavery wasn’t this rampant. The emperor then was wise. Who’d have thought things would collapse so fast?"

"Slavery at least means survival," Mio tightened her grip on the reins.

"I’d rather die than lose my freedom," Talasha’s voice turned rigid. "For Beastkin, a dignified death is better than crawling through life. Our ancestors would honor us for it."

Amber’s ears drooped at her words.

"Enough of this," Mio changed the subject. "Aimee, how far to the Imperial Capital?"

"Four or five days at this pace."

"Good." Mio touched the jewel in her pocket. "I can’t wait to be rid of this thing. It’s caused nothing but trouble."

"Don’t you want to be empress?" Aimee asked. "The Hamodia Swordsmen fully support you."

"Not interested." Mio stared ahead. "And I’m clearly no ruler."

A black raven suddenly landed on the carriage roof. Mio extended her arm; the bird obediently perched there—a Reaper’s messenger, a harbinger of death.

"Mio-sama!" Talasha’s tail fur bristled. "That bird feels ominous. We should shoo it away!"

Beastkin intuition surpassed humans’. Mio glanced at Amber—her cat ears were flattened, her small body curled tight with fear. Mio met the raven’s gaze, forging a mental link with the Reaper. On a black hill stood a temple of death. Deep within its crypts, a soul wailed in agony.

"Understood," Mio closed her eyes. "Thank you."

She flicked her wrist. The raven took flight, vanishing into the forest.

"Aimee," she said, "we need to take a detour."

"Another task from the Reaper?"

Mio nodded.

"Fine," Aimee shrugged. "Who else would serve as the Reaper’s Chosen One?"

Talasha’s jaw dropped. *The Reaper’s Chosen?* A chill ran down her spine. She stared at Mio’s silver hair fluttering in the wind, at her doll-like profile etched with melancholy. *Such a beautiful girl... chosen by death? There must be some mistake.*

Mio steered the carriage off the main road onto an overgrown path. Though long abandoned, the wide, well-paved road remained smooth beneath the weeds. The gray horse clopped onward, unfazed as shadows deepened around them. Sunset bled crimson across the sky. When the forest finally cleared, a crumbling temple stood atop a hill under a violet dusk.

"This... feels extremely dangerous," Aimee leapt down, sword drawn. "Your god’s given you quite the trial."

"Does the War God never send tasks?"

"Lord Bal only watches us fight," Aimee said. "He never interferes. He grants blessings only to his favorite warriors."

Mio chuckled dryly. *The dead god really knows how to boss people around.*

"Aimee-sama, Mio-sama," Talasha pleaded, "we shouldn’t approach those ruins. As a Forest Priestess, I sense no spirit energy here—only something far darker that drove the spirits away. This isn’t just a Mystic Realm anomaly. It’s something worse. We should leave before full dark!"

"You’re right. It’s perilous." Mio drew Punisher. "Aimee, Talasha—guard Amber here. Don’t enter the temple. I’ll go alone."

"Got it." Aimee slung her sword over her shoulder. "Hurry back. Dinner’s waiting."

Mio flashed an OK sign and strode toward the temple.

"Aimee-sama!" Talasha whispered urgently. "Is Mio-sama truly safe? That place radiates doom! We should flee!"

"If Mio says she’s fine, she’s fine." Aimee unpacked supplies. "Let’s start dinner."

As the last sunlight vanished, Mio stepped into the temple ruins. Towering columns flanked the entrance, remnants of sacred grandeur. But death hung thick in the air. Shadows writhed in the darkness, carrying an unnatural chill. Mio focused, drawing darkness from her soul. Black sludge flowed over her palms, forming two spherical drones. She tossed them upward; they hummed to life, scanning the interior with low-power lasers. A detailed map of the temple materialized in her vision.

*Technology still functions within spirit-saturated Mystic Realms. Good.* Armed with the layout, Mio loaded Holy Silver Bullets into Punisher. She fired twice into a shadowed corner—semi-transparent spirits dissolving, forcibly sent to reincarnation.

"Ghosts?" She reloaded. "Must be keeping watch."

Silver hair swaying, Mio advanced toward the inner sanctum. Unstable magic saturated the air—this place had become far deadlier than any Mystic Realm. Through a corridor overgrown with weeds, she entered the main hall. A glowing figure awaited her there.

"Are you the master of this Mystic Realm?" she asked.

The figure lifted its head. Where a face should be, a crescent-shaped slit opened like a smile. The space around Mio twisted. When her vision cleared, she stood under bright sunlight on manicured lawns, fragrant flowerbeds surrounding her. Her travel clothes had transformed into a pristine white dress. Punisher and her Force Field Sword were gone.

"What a nuisance," she sighed, clenching her fists. "I’ve been dragged into a ‘pocket dimension.’ If I don’t find the exit soon..."

"Teresa!" A familiar voice called. "What are you doing? Prayer starts soon—hurry! The Priestess will be angry!"

Mio turned. A brown-haired girl in an identical white dress seized her hand. Her dark eyes were strikingly beautiful.

"Who are you?" Mio frowned.

"Teresa?" The girl blinked. "It’s me, Laura! Did you oversleep? Come on—we’ll be late! Let’s take the shortcut!"

Mio was pulled along, sprinting across the lawn toward the gleaming temple.