Whitebird City, on the ground floor of the inn's resting area.
"As of the year 737, Tahe has a total of six gods…"
A young man dressed as a monk muttered, leaving lines of text with a feather quill on his notebook, which featured delicate illustrations. A large book titled "The Divine History of Tahe" lay open diagonally above his notebook.
The theology written exam was coming up—it was part of the comprehensive test for monks. The exam would determine whether he could advance to Grape Collar's Temple of Life. Murdoc Farrell had been preparing for this exam for two full years.
"The existing six gods are divided into two major pantheons—the Creation Pantheon and the Destruction Pantheon. Among them, the God of Creation and the God of Destruction are recognized as the highest gods, with the rest being their subordinates… Hmm…"
"Brother, you're memorizing those troublesome things again."
A girl dressed as a merchant pulled out a chair and sat opposite the young man. "Just listening to it makes my head spin."
"Coralina." Murdoc nodded.
"When are you finally coming back to Grape Collar? Mom misses you." Coralina complained with a smile, "This place is terribly remote. I wouldn't come here if it weren't for work."
Murdoc smiled. "I've already accumulated enough merits. As long as I pass the test, I can apply for a transfer to Grape Collar."
"If you don't pass, I'm cutting your allowance."
Coralina clicked her tongue. "Really, why did you have to choose the Temple of Life?"
"Fate's Poet Society has absorbed the Eternal cult. If you can't accept it, forget it. The emerging Church of Strife and the Guardians Assembly are both good. There's much less competition there."
"This isn't about choosing a job, Coralina."
Murdoc clasped his hands together, making the prayer gesture of the Temple of Life. "Both you and I have been blessed by the descent of the God of Life. I still hold gratitude for That One."
"But mom doesn't believe in the Temple of Life."
Coralina grabbed a piece of bread from the table. "Mom believes in the Cat Tail Spirits. She insists that the Cat Tail Spirits saved us, and it seems like the God of Life doesn't mind."
"Coralina!"
"Forget it. As long as you're happy." Coralina stuck out her tongue and picked up the "Divine History of Tahe".
"Subordinates of the God of Creation, the God of Life Tilia, and the God of Guardianship Drake; subordinates of the God of Destruction, the God of Fate Perradat, and the God of Strife Eugene."
Reading this, she frowned.
"I remember Drake was one of the heroes of the divine war, a dragon hybrid who slept for over two hundred years. He's always been very strong, so it makes sense that he became the 'God of Guardianship' after the divine war."
"I've been wanting to ask, what's the deal with Eugene? Wasn't he the Pope of the Temple of Life? …Even if he didn't become the 'God of Peace', he's not even in the same pantheon as the God of Life…"
"The awakening of divine powers and the inherent traits of the gods themselves are linked. One cannot simply choose them." Murdoc explained, "Lord Eugene, during his tenure, was notoriously uncompromising. Although he caused conflicts both large and small, in the end, he reformed countless longstanding malpractices within the Temple."
"As for the relatively negative power of 'Strife', many scholars have researched this. The prevailing view—let me think—Lord Eugene is fundamentally fanatic; his reforms of the church weren't out of goodwill but were meant to please the God of Life…"
"Cough! Cough!"
Suddenly, a coughing sound came from the next table, where Murdoc saw two young men in traveler's cloaks—the one with black hair choked on his tea, and the silver-haired one was patting his back.
"He was once the former Pope of the Temple of Life. Is it okay to speak so frankly?" Coralina gasped through her teeth.
"Lord Eugene never hid his true nature." Murdoc sighed. "Actually, I admire Lord Drake more, who endured hardships without changing his original intentions and eventually acquired the power of 'Guardianship'—his friendship with the God of Fate Perradat is still praised by people."
"Wait, wait, I'm dizzy." Coralina rubbed her temples. "So you're saying, Lord Eugene of the Destruction Pantheon follows the God of Life from the Creation Pantheon, and Lord Drake from the Creation Pantheon, has good relations with the God of Fate from the Destruction Pantheon…?"
"Yes, it's a balance."
"It seems even gods avoid forming cliques." Coralina remarked, "So the God of Creation and the God of Destruction are completely opposed to each other?"
"Regarding this matter, there are currently two prevailing opinions… those two do not have their own religions, nor are their names widely known. Many believe they are merely conceptual gods."
Murdoc rustled through his notebook. "But there is also a peculiar theory circulating that they are a pair of sweet lovers."
"I prefer that latter theory," the silver-haired young man at the next table laughed.
Murdoc glanced over at the next table again—the silver-haired young man had just finished speaking when he was fed a large spoonful of sugared peach water by his companion.
"It seems you've reviewed well."
Coralina didn't pay attention to the next table. She snapped the "Divine History of Tahe" shut. "Good luck, big brother. They surely won't actually test you on the love story of the highest gods."
"…Coralina…" Murdoc weakly covered his face.
"By the way, there have been disappearances nearby lately." Coralina lowered her voice. "You're living here alone. Be very careful, and don't interact with any suspicious characters."
"I'll remember that. Send my regards to mom."
...
Murdoc smelled a strong odor of blood. The next second, a horrific pain struck him. It felt as if a spike had been driven into his head, causing it to split with pain.
He blinked laboriously, his eyelids sticky with semi-dried blood, much heavier than usual. Undoubtedly, his head had been struck, and the blood that had flowed out was drying in his hair, becoming stiff and hard.
Only a thick darkness surrounded him.
What happened?
Murdoc remembered saying goodbye to his sister, remembered leaving the inn. He had planned to buy some parchment and paint before heading home, and then… and then…
"Ugh…"
Murdoc groaned, struggling to prop himself up. His eyes gradually adapted to the dark surroundings, and he could faintly make out the outlines of objects.
Rusty iron bars, moldy straw, damp stone bricks. A faint stench of decay lingered, accompanied by the barely audible sound of water from the neighboring cell. If his guess was correct, this was a repurposed dungeon located beneath Whitebird City in the sewers.
Why would anyone want to kidnap him?
Murdoc was only nineteen years old, a naive cleric with nothing of value on him.
He was good-looking, but at nineteen, he was too old to be trafficked… Moreover, criminals typically wouldn't target clergy, preferring vagrant children who "nobody would miss if they disappeared".
Was this a kidnapping for ransom?
Setting aside the fact that his mother was in Grape Collar, a place far too distant, his family had changed their names and moved, making it impossible for ordinary people to know their financial situation.
"Is anyone there?" Murdoc called out hoarsely. "Hello?"
Apart from the sound of water, he received no response.
Murdoc felt along the iron bars, searching for any gap that might offer escape, but instead, his hands found the thick iron chains that entwined the cell door. These chains had been treated to resist magic, feeling exceptionally cold to the touch. The Temple often used them to bind escapees. Ordinary magic couldn't open them.
…Better to conserve energy for now.
Breathing heavily, Murdoc sat back down on the straw, trying to tend to the wound on his head.
Right, Coralina had mentioned disappearances… If only he had asked her more about it…
Coralina was traveling with a merchant caravan. She should be safe… May the God of Life protect her…
The dizziness from blood loss persisted, and Murdoc's limbs grew cold. He curled up, his eyes half-closed. Suddenly, something furry and warm appeared next to his hand.
A rat?!
Murdoc stiffened and turned to his right hand—next to his palm, unbeknownst to him, two small furry balls had appeared.
One black and one white, they were the size of the tip of a cat's tail. They clung together tightly, blinking their small, bean-sized eyes.
"Moore, don't be afraid," the black furball chirped lightly. "You'll be alright."
Murdoc was stunned. That was his long-discarded name. These two little creatures really resembled the Cat Tail Spirits from his mother's stories.
"You need to endure a little longer." The white furball leisurely nibbled on the black one's fur. "I'm very curious about what's going to happen next."
"We need a witness. Believe me, we have a history with your mother. She must have mentioned us," the black furball squeezed the white one and continued to explain in a soft voice.
"You're Cat Tail Spirits," Murdoc nodded.
The two furballs: "..."
"Close enough," the black furball said. "Anyway, we'll stay with you."
Murdoc breathed a sigh of relief. The kidnappers had left his clothes. Murdoc opened the inner pocket of his monk's robe, allowing the two little furballs to hide inside. They were warm and comforting, and he unconsciously felt reassured.
For the next two days, Murdoc was left alone. No one came to check on him, let alone bring food or water. The kidnappers were very cautious, probably planning to act once he weakened.
But this plan was thwarted by the two furballs.
The white furball conjured a large amount of food out of thin air, including but not limited to vegetable salad, bagels with nuts, cold cuts, boiled eggs, and sparkling grape juice. They all shared common traits—they were odorless, didn't need heating, and were delicious.
Thus, Murdoc was well-fed and lay in the dungeon for two days. He had wanted to talk more with the furballs, but aside from mealtimes, they would squeeze into his pocket and fall into a deep sleep.
On the third day, things finally changed.
A man carrying a lantern and dressed in a dark red robe opened the cell door, picking up Murdoc, who feigned exhaustion. Murdoc struggled feebly as the man dragged him deeper into the sewers.
By the dim light of the lantern, Murdoc discreetly observed the man beside him.
The man's face was covered with a red cloth, cut out only for the eyes and nose. His eyes, hidden in shadow, looked like two black holes.
Murdoc's gaze moved to the man's chest. In the center of his chest was an odd emblem he had never seen before. His garment's hem was somewhat darkened, emitting an unpleasant odor of decay.
A cultist… His attire didn't match that of a stubborn member of the Eternal Church. It was probably some emerging cult.
Whitebird City, located remotely, only had a chapel of the Temple of Life. But the City Lord was adept, making it difficult for messy religions to take root. In other words, anyone who could operate here was no ordinary character.
Murdoc continued to feign weakness, his heart racing. If not for the two furballs continuously warming his chest, he would have been genuinely terrified.
May the God of Life bless him, may the Cat Tail Spirits protect him. In silent prayer, Murdoc was led into a spacious underground area.
This place didn't seem to be part of the sewers, but rather someone had used magic to repurpose the ventilation system of the sewers.
The walls of this "room" were mere rubble and clods of earth. Both sides of the room were filled with red-robed individuals holding lanterns, illuminating the vast space like daylight—
In the center of the room was a large magical circle drawn with blood, mixed with bits of flesh, emitting a foul smell. In the center of the circle, a rotting arm protruded from the loose soil, with an unknown number of bodies buried underneath.
Murdoc was roughly thrown at the edge of the circle, his face pale.
"What do you want to do?" His question was absolutely sincere.
The two rows of red-robed individuals remained silent, not moving an inch. If not for the breathing visible at their chests, Murdoc might have mistaken them for corpses.
Something was off… The rows were asymmetric. There were two extra individuals on his right side, who were fully cloaked in red robes without holding lanterns.
Their height and physique stood out from the other followers. Murdoc noticed a glimpse of their hair—black and silver, a frighteningly familiar combination.
Were they the two people he had encountered at the inn, having followed him since then?
Murdoc stared at them, his mind in turmoil.
This wasn't the time to assign blame. He needed to find a chance to escape…
"Murdoc Farrell."
A solemn voice echoed from the shadows. An elderly man, around sixty, stepped out from the darkness. He was dressed in a fiery red robe. His hair and beard were white, yet his body showed no signs of the frailty typical of old age, appearing quite robust.
"Or should I call you Moore Alva, the miraculous son of Avra Alva."
Murdoc involuntarily clenched his fists.
During the divine war, his family was taken to a safe hideout by a Temple knight. After the war, the high officials of the Temple of Life had specially met with his family.
At that time, Murdoc was only seven years old, unable to remember much. He only recalled that those dignitaries had said his father was controlled by a malevolent god, and his mother had slain him on the spot.
The malevolent god was defeated, and his father died in the divine war. Concerning the reputation of the Alva Merchant Group and the lack of evidence, "Enbillick Alva being controlled by a malevolent god" wasn't widely known. In the end, his mother was still seen as a madwoman who had killed her husband.
To honor Avra's bravery, the Temple of Life was willing to provide protection—
They helped Avra and her two children create new identities. The Alva family thus became the Farrell family. They also secretly transferred Enbillick Alva's fortune, a substantial amount that ensured that Avra's family lived comfortably.
On the eve of the family's departure from Bissus, in front of the Temple knights, the figure of the Goddess of Life Tilia appeared in their room.
The Goddess's face was identical to the statues in the church.
With a gentle smile, she touched the children's foreheads. The robust life force flowed into their bodies, and Murdoc still remembered that feeling—the stiffness and coldness inside him disappeared. His body became agile and strong, and his mind became much clearer.
Before the apparition vanished, the Goddess specifically turned to the Temple knight, smiled, and made a "shh" gesture with her finger.
That was undoubtedly a divine blessing.
Considering the Goddess's will, whether it was their past identities or that miraculous night, only the high echelons of the Temple of Life had the right to know.
Which meant…
"You are from the Temple of Life."
Murdoc stared at the old man, gritting his teeth.
The author has something to say:
People of Tahe: The God of Creation and the God of Destruction have no names, no churches. They must be conceptual gods…
In reality: The two just want to use their real names to sweetly travel √
The real Tahe production team has expanded! Nol is super happy.
The current work projects of the people are as follows:
Farmers, breeders, healers, etc., believe in the God of Life.
Adventurers, knights, travelers, etc., believe in the God of Guardianship.
Magicians, scholars, merchants, etc., believe in the God of Fate.
Blacksmiths, arms dealers, mercenaries, etc., believe in the God of Strife.
————————————
Fischer was thrown to the side of the God of Fate by Teest. He should now be the Pope of the God of Fate, but he still believes in Teest. (A kind of triple-named Pope)
Old Painter quietly changed the "Goddess of Life" to "God of Life". It's not a typo… Unfortunately, the name can't be changed, so accept your fate, Painter.