"This… this is insane…"
Lance's scalp tingled as he watched the Deep Sea Church fanatics mutilate themselves, slicing off chunks of their own flesh and tossing them onto the floor.
"Knew it. A damn cult ritual."
Even the usually unflappable Mahayu couldn't hold back a complaint. Meanwhile, Yui and Susie shrank behind Felix, covering their eyes and refusing to watch.
In the midst of this grotesque spectacle, Felix calmly stepped forward. He ignored the self-harming cultists and walked up to the confused Seaborn. From his pack, he pulled out an energy bar.
"terran flesh doesn't taste good. Eat this instead—it's healthier."
The wrapper crinkled as he tore it open and tossed it forward. Immediately, a dog-shaped horror snapped its jaws wide, a flower-shaped one unfurled its petals as though reaching out to embrace it, and a coral-like one scuttled over, its underbelly maw gnashing eagerly at the prize.
Soon, the chamber filled only with the crunching sounds of their strange feast.
"What… what is this?!"
The masked man in dark green robes atop the dais clutched his head in disbelief. His voice cracked with confusion and hysteria, chest heaving violently.
"The ones we revere, the ones we worship—how could they behave like this?!"
"No… I won't allow it! I refuse to accept this!"
Kneeling, he drew a dagger from his robes. Mahayu instinctively stepped in front of Felix, only to freeze as the cultist began slicing into his own flesh. Blood ran down his hand as he trembled, holding the chunk of meat out toward the dog-like spawn.
The creature sniffed once, snorted disdainfully, and bared its teeth in rejection.
"Aah—! Aahhh!"
The man collapsed to the floor, staring in horror at the Seaborn—their gods—that scorned the offerings of blood and flesh so devoutly prepared for them.
"…Maybe it's just that living terran meat… doesn't taste very good," Yui whispered meekly.
Both Felix and Lance shot her a strange look. Flustered, she waved her hands.
"I-I didn't mean it! Forget I said anything."
"…No," Felix said in a low voice. "That may actually be the case. These creatures are bizarre, yes, enemies of the Iberian Inquisition. But in some respects… as long as you feed them, they won't attack."
"Blasphemy! How dare you speak of our faith as if it were some common pet!"
The masked man staggered to his feet, clutching his bloody arm. His voice wavered, then broke into manic laughter.
"This news… yes, I must bring this news back with me. They have to know."
From his robes, he hurled a device resembling a grenade at the ground. Felix's pupils shrank. Almost instantly, a drone that had been hovering quietly at the edge darted forward, projecting twin barriers before the party.
Pffft—
Thick smoke hissed out, filling the chamber. Felix grimaced—he recognized it too late. Among the lost shipments, it wasn't only explosives that had gone missing; there had also been Art smoke bombs.
One miscalculation was all it took. By the time the haze thinned, the man's figure had vanished.
"Behind the altar—there's a passage. Likely leads to the surface. We pursue."
"What about these ones?" Lance interjected, nodding at the incapacitated cultists.
Felix glanced at Mahayu.
"Knock them all out and secure them. We'll hand them over to the Inquisition later."
"Understood."
And so began a chase whose outcome was never in doubt—one that ended as quickly as it started. After all, a man only had two legs. How far could he really run?
More importantly, Felix didn't need to take this one alive. Even if captured, the cultist would spill everything under questioning. Once the Inquisition learned that Seaborn could be tamed, would they ever stop? Of course not.
Seaborn were still the invaders of Iberia. For years, they had destroyed too much, left scars too deep. To ask the Inquisition to lay down that hatred… would be nothing short of a fantasy.
At the same time, Felix had no intention of letting the Inquisition know he had once fed a Seaborn. For the sake of appearances, his relationship with them needed to stay intact. And honestly? If given the choice, he'd rather raise those soft, harmless Originium slugs and make Originium slugs farm than deal with such grotesque, unpredictable creatures.
High above, his drone tracked the fleeing cultist, relaying every movement with precision.
"Target is on the run. Commencing pursuit."
Felix glanced at the live feed, then at Lance. The latter gave a firm nod.
"Though we're arbiters, not Inquisition officers, Laterano grants us authority to act independently in emergencies. If it comes to that… I'll do it."
"Even if we catch him, he won't live long," Lemuen said evenly. "He's lost too much blood. At this pace, he won't last."
"You have a point…"
Lance exhaled heavily, shaking his head. Too much had happened in a single day. His thoughts were muddled, and the unease lingering on his team's faces told him all he needed to know—the Church's madness had left a mark, tainting their once-pristine Laterano hearts.
Beside Felix, Mostima's gaze flicked to Susie, who was still clinging tightly to his hand. She lowered her voice.
"And the Inquisition? What's our stance?"
"We have their adventurers as witnesses. As far as anyone's concerned, we were pursuing criminals who stole Laterano's goods. That's all."
Flawless reasoning.
They pushed through the reeds, where the Deep Sea Church's high priest had finally collapsed, barely clinging to life. His skin was pallid, his body twitching like a specter dragged from hell. His eyes—chaotic, unfocused—fixed on Felix with venom and hatred, but his lips could no longer form words.
Felix treated him no differently than a stray dog by the roadside. Except this was no common cur, maybe he used to be a resident here, but now he's just an evil resident. Slowly, he drew his handgun.
"Let me handle this, Felix."
Lance laid a hand on his shoulder. Felix said nothing. This was Lance's mission, his responsibility. The evidence and witnesses were clear, but the culprit likely wouldn't live to stand trial at the Notarial Hall. As captain, it was Lance's duty to render judgment here and now.
Schwing!
A flash of steel split the air. Blood arced skyward as the tall reeds were sheared cleanly in two. One half drifted down like scattered feathers… along with the cultist's severed head.
Lance froze, hand still on his gun. So did Felix, Mahayu, and the rest.
Not far from them stood a woman, calmly resheathing her blade. Her sword was keen, her gaze keener. Red eyes glimmered as they flicked toward them—sharp as a naked edge, merciless enough to wound both flesh and spirit.
Silver hair. Crimson eyes. She was the very image of every player's dream archetype, Felix's included.
Her uniform shimmered with a curious texture, clearly woven from some extraordinary material. Yet what seized Felix's attention most was the sword itself.
This was no common weapon. With his artisan's eye, Felix could appraise gear just as Agil once did in Sword Art Online. Even at a glance, he knew: the craftsmanship was leagues beyond anything for sale on the market, beyond the relics pulled from ancient ruins. Whoever had forged this blade—or whichever power stood behind it—possessed terrifying skill. A sword like this could cut through iron as though it were silk.
"…"
For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, sharp and strange, as if the very world held its breath.
Felix narrowed his eyes. Only after appraising her weapon did he finally have the chance to study the girl herself. When he saw her face, his heart skipped a beat—he knew her.
As a player, and one with a very particular fondness for silver hair and red eyes, Felix had always held a natural affection for this type of NPC. In his previous life, after joining Rhodes Island, he had seen this girl many times during missions.
My wife—Skadi!
Yet, Rhodes Island didn't even exist in this era. Which raised the question: why was Skadi here, in this place, at this time?
Compared to Felix's quiet recognition, Mahayu's reaction could only be described as unhinged. Anyone who looked at her would think: "Bro, what a creep!"
The girl's beauty shook her to her core. Her vision blurred, her heartbeat thundered so violently that her body went numb—just like a newbie's first fight, when nerves made it impossible to control one's movements.
Who is she…? A girl this stunning… who could she be?
Just a single glance from her, and Mahayu had already become her most devoted fangirl.
"...Who are you?"
Felix stepped forward, signaling Lance with a look. Lance holstered his gun for the moment, though his stance remained guarded. The sharp aura radiating from this girl made it impossible not to be on edge.
"Do you have a grudge against him?"
Felix gestured to the headless corpse on the ground, its skull scattered somewhere by the earlier burst of sword wind.
"The Deep Sea Church is my enemy."
The girl's voice was calm, almost gentle. Despite her intimidating presence, her tone was soft, like the quiet depths of the ocean at night. Yet in this world, the sea was anything but gentle.
"You cornered him, drove him to his end. For that, I owe you thanks. We share a common enemy."
Her words came slowly, deliberate, revealing she wasn't nearly as cold as her appearance suggested.
"My name… is Skadi."
Felix noted her pale complexion, the faint trail of blood staining the ground where she had stood. Not just red blood, but streaks of blue as well—the kind that only one type of creature bled.
Had she been fighting Seaborns? Or… something else?
After a moment's thought, Felix spoke again.
"We are not your foes, Miss Skadi. You need rest, and we need to set up camp. If you don't mind… we could share a fire and talk."
Skadi hesitated briefly, then gave a single, measured nod.
"I have no objections."
Lance and his squad returned to the Church ruins to secure weapons and explosives—the true prizes of this mission. The food was gone, but no one cared. What mattered was keeping the armaments out of bounty hunters' hands.
Meanwhile, Mahayu stood frozen in a daze, while her fellow players busied themselves with pitching tents and setting up a fire.
Skadi sat alone, silent as a lone wolf, carefully bandaging her wounds.
Watching her, Felix felt an uncanny sense of déjà vu. This image of Skadi reminded him of his former self—once a lone wolf player, always forced to supply his own gear, his own rations, even tending to wounds alone. With no healer in the party, he had relied on cheap black-market trauma meds, patching himself up however he could.
And now, here she was, mirroring that same solitude.
Other than her name, Felix knew nothing about Skadi—her race, her past, or where she had come from.
In his previous life, he had browsed through Rhodes Island's internal personnel files more times than he could count. Every operator had a profile, and those records were completely open to all members. It was a gesture of trust, and also a challenge—an encouragement for newer operators to work hard, grow stronger, and someday surpass their predecessors. These files included both the living and the fallen. Felix still remembered that when he first joined Rhodes Island, ACE's name was already preserved in the archives, a reminder of sacrifice.
Skadi's file was there as well. Yet unlike others, her information was frustratingly sparse—as if deliberately censored. Clearly, something about her past, or what she had gone through, was being hidden. Rhodes Island had chosen to keep her origins locked away.
But standing idle wasn't going to reveal any answers. With a sigh, Felix took over the work from Mostima, hammering and tying ropes to help set up camp.
As the group busied themselves with tents and supplies, Susie approached Skadi, clutching a small package in her hands.
"Um… Miss Skadi, this is for you."
Her soft voice carried a polite warmth. Inside the package was a medical kit—the same kind Felix always carried on expeditions. Even though he now had a drone capable of treatment, he never left without a kit. Machines could fail; preparation could not.
Skadi blinked at the offered bundle, stunned for a brief moment. Then, slowly, she smiled.
"Thank you…"
"Just call me Susie," the girl replied with a cheerful grin.
"Thank you, Susie."
Skadi began tending to her wounds anew. After so much bloodshed and hardship to make it onto land, exhaustion finally pressed down on her shoulders. Yet as she sat there, with these people close at hand, she felt something she hadn't allowed herself in a long time—relief.
It was as if, with them nearby, she could finally let go… and trust someone else to guard her back.