“It doesn't have to be a devout, exclusive, unwavering faith; even a casual believer would do, or even if you've merely prayed once,” the old man explained with a frown. “Only then can your soul establish a connection with a deity, allowing for the next step. If you can't even establish a connection, completing an alienation under a true god is utterly impossible. Have you truly never even prayed once?”
Lynch spread his hands with a wry smile.
He had just searched the memories of this body once more. It wasn't just his transmigrated soul—the original owner of the body hadn't possessed any faith either. He had never been to church, never prayed, and never formed a bond with any deity.
He hadn't even uttered a single “Praise the Lord.”
He was quite an anomaly in this world.
Because there were twelve true gods in this world who frequently bestowed miracles and blessings upon mortals, nearly everyone believed in one or two deities to some extent.
Unbelievers wouldn't face punishment, but they were viewed as total oddities by those around them.
“Um, is it too late for me to start praying now?” Lynch asked sheepishly. “Like praying to the Goddess's holy emblem, for instance?”
“This isn't a game, child.” The old man sighed. “Faith can indeed be cultivated anew: you listen to our sermons, gradually comprehend and embrace the deity's doctrines, alter your thoughts and actions to align with them, and then pray to the Goddess. There is nothing wrong with that process, nor is it difficult. The only issue is that it requires time. Changing a person's beliefs through preaching takes at least several months. Until then, mumbling before a holy icon every day won't do you any good.”
“But time is the one thing I lack most.”
Lynch scratched his head, though a strange sense of relief welled up inside him.
In truth, he didn't want to become a Soul Severer of the true gods. Archbishop Trinlais's rhetoric made it obvious that the churches' Soul Severers were essentially enforcers kept by the deities and the church, bound to obey their commands. No matter how gently it was phrased, each subsequent alienation would just be a means for the church to control its enforcers.
Having transmigrated to another world, Lynch had no desire to shackle himself right from the start. Therefore, even if this path was easy, safe, and the mainstream choice in this world, he was reluctant to pursue it.
It was just that not everyone possessed the courage to choose freedom over survival. Without a good reason, there was no sense in rejecting a safe, comfortable path.
But now, it wasn't him being picky—the path was simply closed to him, so no one could blame him. Besides, taking a more winding road might allow him to see more scenery. You support this too, right, Travel Companion?
【I am merely...】
‘Witnessing every choice you make. I know, I know. No need to repeat it.’
His mind had already relaxed. In any case, Mr. V had mentioned that one might also find a way to become a Soul Severer of a fallen god through secret societies. His path to survival wasn't cut off yet; he still had a chance.
Though his thoughts were relaxed, he still put on a suitably dejected expression; after all, he didn't want to be treated like a lunatic before mystery could even erode him.
The old man genuinely felt it was a pity, sighing, “Then there is no other way. With a one-month deadline, it seems you can only try the path of the fallen gods.”
Hm? You know about that too? That works out perfectly.
Lynch followed up smoothly, “Fallen gods refer to those deities who have fallen, right? They have Soul Severers too? Could you tell me a bit about them beforehand?”
For a brief moment, the old man looked disgusted, but he still sighed and explained:
“Yes. At the end of the Fourth Age, blasphemers... ahem, certain individuals comprehended the traits of fallen gods from their holy memories, thereby becoming another type of Soul Severer. They hold no faith in their hearts and lack sufficient awe for the true gods, but in essence, they are still Soul Severers following in the footsteps of deities and warriors battling mystery all the same. We are still willing to acknowledge them as comrades-in-arms.”
Tsk, tsk, blasphemers... Lynch's expression grew subtle.
“Alright, I admit that servants of the true gods might hold a slight prejudice against them—well, perhaps more than a slight one. But we truly do recognize them; we merely feel profound regret over their actions and ways of thinking. Aside from the Watchers and a few rare exceptions, most of them are a bunch of lunatics whose madness is hardly lower than that of cultists. This isn't prejudice; I am stating facts. If you embark on this path in the future, by all means, do not become like them.”
Yeah, yeah, sure, sure.
Armed with plenty of experience dealing with teachers, no matter what he actually thought, Lynch nodded vigorously with a humble and receptive look.
“Forget it, you will understand in the future.” The old man curled his lip resentfully. “A Soul Severer of a fallen god indeed does not require faith; obtaining a holy memory of a fallen god is all that is needed.”
“A holy memory?”
“It is an echo left by a deity within the Dreamlands. This memory could be a voice, an object, a scene, a passage of text...”
Doesn't that description just fit mystery? It's probably the holy mystery Mr. V talked about.
Lynch kept the thought to himself. He instinctively sensed that this was likely a taboo subject touching upon fundamental truths, so it was best to keep his mouth shut.
“The various churches possess some of these holy memories, and a small amount has found its way into private collections, but most are held by secret societies. However, one cannot simply use any fallen god's holy memory at will—you must also determine which deity aligns best with you.”
“Do you know how to determine that?” Lynch grew tense again, wary of running into another issue like the faith requirement earlier and getting his hopes up for nothing.
“I happen to know this. It is a very simple testing method, though it is usually only effective on the first attempt; subsequent tries become inaccurate.”
The old man leaned forward and fixed his gaze on Lynch.
“Pay attention. I am going to ask a question. Do not think, do not hesitate. I want you to answer with your intuition within three seconds—the more unhesitating, the better.”
Lynch blinked, then nodded.
“Very good. Then I shall begin.” The old man's cadence abruptly quickened. “Name the symbol of a deity. Quick, right now. Three, two, one.”
Second one: Lynch was thinking, how am I supposed to know what deities exist?
Second two: Lynch was thinking, how am I supposed to know what counts as a deity's symbol?
Second three: Lynch had no time to think and blurted out:
“The moon. The red moon.”
“Hm? The red moon?” The old man frowned. “Why?”
Yeah, why? Because it had kept him company for who knows how many years before he transmigrated? Because he couldn't fall asleep without its light shining on him every night? Because the presence-less Travel Companion in his head felt strikingly similar to it?
None of those could serve as real reasons, and he hadn't even thought that deeply about it.
Lynch scratched his head, replying in distress, “Honestly, I don't know why either. Three seconds wasn't enough time to think of a reason, so it just slipped out. Even if you ask me now, I couldn't tell you why.”
“Then that is right. It proves the result is accurate; if you had analyzed a bunch of reasons, it would have been inaccurate instead.” The old man nodded. “In the world of mystery, logic is often distorted, and reasons do not matter. The soul's instinctive reaction is frequently the most precise outcome. It appears the Red Moon is the deity most aligned with you.”
“Does such a fallen god truly exist?”
“There truly is. The Crimson Lady, Luna, and the Silver Maiden, Artemis—they are the deities of the two moons, though the Crimson Lady is largely unknown.” Looking preoccupied, the old man pondered before saying, “However, if the one aligning with you is truly Lady Red Moon, that presents a massive problem. Perhaps you could try switching to a secondary alignment, though it might be considerably more dangerous.”
“Hm? Where's the problem?”
“For reasons unknown, the holy memories left by the Crimson Lady are exceptionally scarce. Typically, such a situation indicates that this deity was not very active during the First Age. But while most deities only lack holy memories from specific time periods, the Crimson Lady's holy memories are scarce across the board. Because of this, not only will it be difficult for you to find an initial holy memory within a month, but every subsequent alienation will also be an immense hassle. The silver lining is that no one will ever compete with you for them, as you likely won't find a second Soul Severer in the entire world who shares your origin.”
Truly lacking any presence whatsoever. As if the red moonlight of tens of millions of years reappeared before his eyes, Lynch asked, “Where might I find a holy memory of this Crimson Lady? Among those secret societies?”
The old man remained deep in thought, appearing slightly distracted. Only after a moment did he reply, “Truthfully, you won't find one anywhere. You could try secret societies, or shops that covertly sell relics, but the probability of finding one is virtually zero.”
“I understand.”
The corners of Lynch's mouth twitched. He didn't doubt the old man's words; for something that could be verified so quickly, there was no need for the old man to deceive him. Suppressing his inner disappointment, Lynch stood up and said:
“I should still go take a look. I have to at least try searching; who knows, maybe a miracle will happen. Thank you so much for today, sir.”
With that, Lynch took off his hat, bowed, and turned to walk toward the reception room door. The moment his back was turned, his expression darkened.
Would a miracle truly happen? Lynch didn't even believe in his own hopes. Yet he gritted his teeth and strived to maintain his composure. His hand had already touched the doorknob when the old man's call suddenly came from behind.
“Wait a moment.” Lynch turned around to see the old man still looking preoccupied, gesturing to him. “There is something I need to discuss with you.”
Lynch's heart stirred. He realized that the old man's preoccupation ever since learning he would take Lady Red Moon's fallen god path was very likely connected to his alienation. Perhaps this was the turning point.
He immediately returned to the sofa and sat down, not pressing him, merely gazing at the old man in silence.
“A holy memory of the Red Moon is indeed exceedingly difficult to find. If you have doubts, you may verify it yourself afterward. The possibility of finding one within a month cannot be said to be nonexistent, but it is practically negligible.”
Lynch pressed his lips together and strove to remain silent. Even though it directly pertained to his life, he was unwilling to lose his composure in front of others.
Moreover, the old man did not seem like someone who enjoyed teasing people. Since he had called him back, there was bound to be a reason. Therefore, Lynch merely lowered his gaze, waiting with an uneasy heart for what the old man would say next.
“I will not hide it from you: the sanctuary at the Church of the Black Night's headquarters preserves a holy memory of Lady Red Moon. Only a single one.”
“Hm?” Lynch's breath hitched, and he snapped his head up to stare into the old man's eyes.
“Do not be surprised. The moon appears in the night—could anything be more natural? Even if memories of the Crimson Lady are nowhere to be found, it is impossible for the Black Night Sanctuary to lack one. I am actually a bit surprised that you did not know.”
Lynch was completely unable to refute that.
“However, I cannot simply give it to you. That is property of headquarters, which exceeds the scope of your letter of introduction. Why should I hand it over to you?”
“Because you told me all this,” Lynch said thoughtfully, leaning back on the sofa. “Which means you have a way for me to obtain it. Only... go ahead and tell me: what task do you need me to do? For you to hesitate so much, make up your mind only at the last moment, and be willing to pay such a high price, it certainly isn't a trivial matter.”
“Do you not plan on trying to search for it first?”
“With your status, since you dared to say it, you couldn't possibly fear me verifying it. I believe the chances of finding Lady Red Moon's memory elsewhere are slim, so I might as well hear your conditions first.”
“You truly are a clever child. I hear you are a private detective?” The old man looked Lynch up and down. “Investigate a case for me, and I guarantee Lady Red Moon's memory will be delivered to your hands.”
“What case?”
“The incident at Bester Tunnel, including what happened today.” The old man said gravely, “I must make this clear first: this case is very troublesome and extremely dangerous. I can guarantee you will face mortal peril. I rather admire you, so I wasn't keen on dragging you into this earlier, but your situation isn't looking good either. Since you'll be dead in a month anyway, you might as well put life and death aside and give it a shot. As long as you can solve the case and make a major contribution, I will have a valid reason to give you the moon goddess's memory. What do you think?”
Rate on N.U.
