The fires were nearly out. From Lemuen and Patia's hands, Felix finally collected the gel-like materials he'd been longing for. Turning them into something like a slime-combat suit would be tricky—after all, he didn't have tailoring as a secondary profession. Still, that could be solved later. Surely a few craftsmen in Lungmen would be up for the task.
The blaze had raged through the night, but with Muelsyse's aid and the villagers' help, it was finally brought under control. The grotesque Seaborn, whose very presence made one's skin crawl, were eventually cut down by the belatedly-arriving Inquisition. When they caught sight of Felix, Lance, and the other special ops teams, they feigned indifference—pretending not to notice, acting with the same deliberate coldness as always: you walk your road, I'll cross my bridge.
That suited Felix just fine. After all, neither side had the authority to make independent decisions. Both were simply cogs within larger factions. In this delicate balance, where Laterano and Iberia maintained a fragile peace, any provocation risked being magnified beyond measure. And when such ripples turned into waves, it was never the factions themselves that paid the price—it was the unlucky individual who lit the spark.
Felix's gaze fell briefly on Saint Carmen. He was resting a hand on young Irene's shoulder, his expression a mix of regret and muted consolation. Felix looked away, instead joining Lance, who stood lost in thought.
"Any leads?"
Lance exhaled heavily.
"There's a strong chance the cargo was taken by the Church—or someone tied to them. I don't get it. Iberia's Church split from Laterano's long ago, but why would they need weapons like these? Who exactly are they preparing to fight?"
Felix narrowed his eyes. A possibility surfaced in his mind.
Players all knew: Iberia had two churches.
The first was the visible, orthodox Iberian Church—complete with its faith, its congregations, its respectable image. Though split from Laterano, it still played the part of piety in the public eye, modeling righteousness and devotion.
And then there was the other one.
The church uncovered during 2.0 quests—an organization as foul to players as it was to NPCs.
The Deepsea Church. Their "god" was none other than the Seaborne, those twisted abominations. In secret, they gathered strength, praying not for salvation but for the sea itself to swallow them—and Iberia along with it.
In every sense, a cult.
Felix flicked a glance at Lance. How much did he know? And if Felix spoke of this, would it put Lance's team in unnecessary danger? Their combat ability was impressive, yes—but against an enemy like this, they'd be leagues out of their depth.
No. Better to stay silent.
Setting aside Lance's squad, Felix regrouped with his own. To his amusement, he found several players already showering his teammates with gifts. He couldn't help but laugh. Some things never changed: wherever players went, if they spotted a good-looking NPC, they couldn't resist grinding favorability.
Well… he'd been no different in his past life.
"Pioneer, truly, you've worked hard."
The voice came from Mahayu, an Inquisitor Felix recognized. She spoke with earnest gratitude. As members of the Inquisition, they had arrived late—too late to do more than mop up. Yet their drive to protect these NPC villagers was real. Once they learned the details, their first act had been to thank Felix and his squad, offering genuine respect.
"Have you been in Iberia long? How much do you know about this place?"
Felix accepted their gifts with an easy smile, raising their favorability before steering the conversation. Mahayu had been here since 1.0—she would know things that later arrivals did not. She might never share such details with other players, but with the Pioneer? That was different.
"Mahayu, we're going to see where else we can help," one of her comrades called.
Catching the intent, the two Inquisition members with her politely excused themselves, leaving Mahayu alone with Felix.
Mahayu gave a sheepish smile.
"Ah… Pioneer, those are my teammates. As you know, even within the Inquisition, we're divided into smaller squads for assignments."
Felix's eyes flicked to their IDs. One read Yui—a simple, common name for a female avatar, but with millions of players worldwide, whoever had snagged it must have been lightning-fast at registration. The other was Itō Ritsu, taller in build, a massive sword strapped across his back. He looked less like an Inquisitor and more like a Rōnin, he just needs a straw hat to fit in.
What Mahayu wanted to discuss wasn't trivial. Perhaps she'd noticed Felix's earlier silence in the church and guessed what was on his mind. Once Felix shared the current situation, Mahayu, unsurprisingly, brought up a subject familiar to every Inquisition player in Iberia—the Deepsea Church.
The Inquisition, naturally, had long pursued them. For a faction like the Inquisition, the Deepsea Church was the embodiment of heresy, and must be purged.
"Pioneer," Mahayu said earnestly, "I know of an abandoned Deepsea Church stronghold. If you'll allow it, I can guide you and your squad there."
Like many players hoping to trigger quests with Felix, Mahayu chose to strike first. Life as an Inquisitor wasn't bad, but compared to Tomorrow's Development it lacked shine. Their gear lagged behind, and the designs didn't exactly appeal to her tastes.
After all, Tomorrow's Development uniforms were like a mix of sleek, stylish military attire—men looked dashing in them, and some of the women's versions struck just the right balance of fashion and flair. For instance, the Series-II female set had short, black athletic-style shorts that left pale thighs bare—something the male players adored, while female players didn't mind either, since it gave them a fashionable, modern look. And for those who didn't like that style, there were always other options.
Felix understood her intentions well enough. Mahayu was one of Iberia's better-known players, much like "Mr. Han" far off in Ursus' frozen Tundra. After a moment's thought, Felix nodded.
"You're right—we do need your help. If you don't mind, travel with us from here."
"Thank you for your trust."
Mahayu bowed low, then—under Felix's exasperated gaze—bounded away like an excited rabbit. Around the corner, her gleeful laughter echoed loud and clear.
"Offer your heart to the Pioneer!"
The shout was so loud it drew stares from fellow Inquisitors. Mahayu, however, couldn't care less. She'd already rallied her squad and a few members of a strategy guild. Together, they were ready to sandwich the Deepsea Church like two slices of bread crushing cheese—an all-out assault.
Lance, having heard from Felix about the volunteer adventurers, let out a breath of relief. Then, with a sly glance, he teased:
"You do realize you've become a bit of a celebrity in Laterano, don't you?"
"Huh?"
"These Undying… ah, pardon me, the Holy Father insists they be called 'Adventurers' now—whenever they arrive in Laterano, they go straight to snooping around for your whereabouts. They visit your old lodgings, even the restaurants you used to eat at. The frenzy has baffled even the Curia's cardinals. By their words, it's no different from Columbian movie-star fanatics."
Felix scratched his head helplessly. He'd already heard a similar account from Fiammetta, and now Lance was confirming it word for word.
After about thirty minutes of rest, Mahayu returned with her squad: seven in total—three hardcore strategists, three casual players, and one content creator, Mahayu herself.
Truthfully, Felix had half-expected to run into pro teams here. In his past life, Iberia and Sargon had been the strongholds of South American and Southeast Asian esports groups. But then it struck him—those same teams had all joined Tomorrow's Development. That explained it. The top-tier pros had already flocked to his banner. His strategy was working better than he'd hoped.
"Pioneer, we're ready. Transport has already been cleared with our leader. Shall we depart now?"
It was late, but time was money. If the Deepsea cultists were still on the move, delaying meant losing them.
"Let's go."
As the other players passed by, Felix was once again showered with gifts. If they gave him much more, his battered truck wouldn't be able to carry it all.
Mahayu walked at the head of the group, humming a cheerful little tune. With a sigh, she muttered,
"So this finally counts as triggering a hidden quest?"
"Captain, how'd you pull it off?"
Yui, clutching an old staff, followed close behind.
"The number of players trying to trigger a personal quest with Pioneer must be in the millions by now, right? But as far as I know, fewer than ten have succeeded."
Mahayu laughed, waving off the question.
"Ah, well, you've just got to know how to appeal to his tastes."
She climbed into the truck. In the passenger seat, Itō Ritsu glanced sidelong at her, thoughtful.
"Captain, did you bring up the Deepsea Church?"
"More or less." Mahayu smirked as she turned the ignition, headlights flaring against the dark road.
"Pioneer didn't so much as flinch—he clearly already knew. What he needs right now is intelligence on the Deepsea Church, and a guide who knows the terrain. I put myself forward, and now I'm on his radar. Triggering a personal quest was the natural next step."
Itō Ritsu raised a thumb in approval.
"So then, Captain," he asked, "are you planning to leave the Inquisition and join Tomorrow's Development?"
"That's the idea." Mahayu stretched lazily in her seat.
"They has more players, more quests, more opportunities. For us, it's the best place to be. Iberia's Inquisition… it's too suffocating. Everything here feels gray and lifeless. Not my style."
She glanced back at the others.
"What about you? Will you come with me?"
The hardcore strategists of the raiding guild fell silent, weighing their options. On one hand, the Inquisition gave them steady ground in Iberia. On the other, abandoning it meant their guild would lose a source of inside information.
Because make no mistake: raiding guilds had eyes everywhere—top players planted in every faction and nation. They shared intelligence with the wider player base… but they also kept some things to themselves. Just like in SAO's beta days, guilds knew the value of secrets. Unlike the beta-test elitists, though, they rarely went too far; professional guilds and esports teams still overshadowed them. In fact, those bigger organizations sometimes bought info from the raiding guilds, so the latter had to tread carefully. Hoarding too much power invited backlash, and none of them wanted to become the target of mass player outrage.
"I'm fine with it."
Itō Ritsu crossed his arms with a grin.
"The Inquisition's gear feels underpowered. I've got a friend in Tomorrow's Development who's been sending me equipment stats, and it makes me jealous. Honestly—who doesn't want to follow Pioneer?"
"I want to join too," Yui admitted softly.
"Mostly because… the Inquisition only gave me one uniform."
As mentioned before, female players weren't immune to their own fashion cravings. Mahayu and Yui was no different. The Inquisition's dull black-and-pink uniforms were serviceable at best, but wear them long enough and the monotony set in. There was no spark, no style—nothing fashionable at all.
"Then it's settled." Mahayu smiled.
"We'll take this mission as our entry exam before joining Tomorrow's Development."
Of course, she had her own motives.
The number of content creators under TD wasn't huge, but not small either—about a dozen in total. Among them, Magic ZX was by far the most popular. He'd been with Pioneer since the beginning, producing a steady stream of content that fans devoured. Mahayu's decision to join was as much about survival as ambition: if she wanted a share of that audience, she needed to stand out.
The challenge was real—how could she avoid making content that overlapped with what others already produced?
Within Iberia, his material was unique. But viewership was limited. Players flocked to flashy settings like Tomorrow's Development in big city. Faced with the choice between a gray, dreary Iberia or those more exciting locales, most players didn't even hesitate.
As these thoughts swirled in her mind, Mahayu kept the truck moving steadily down the road. Nearly two hours later, she finally pulled into familiar territory—a location from two previous missions.
An abandoned village. Compared to the coastal hamlets they'd visited before, this place felt even bleaker, its air heavy with desolation.
The reason was clear: the Inquisition had uncovered this church's ties to the Deepsea sect. A month and a half ago, they'd purged it—every cultist slaughtered, the villagers who had been brainwashed rounded up for "righteous re-education."
"…So, was this our luck," Mahayu muttered, narrowing her eyes, "or…"
She'd spotted it: a van, half-hidden among the reeds.
Slowing the truck to a stop, she gestured sharply to the two vehicles following behind.
"If I'm not mistaken… the Deepsea Church is here."