Standing at the bookshelf that dealt with the legal system of the Helioric Kingdom, Cassius felt no interest in such things, even as a law student. It was a theocracy in which the Helioric royal blood, descended from the Son of the Sun, authorized secular power.

He glanced at the beginner’s book that outlined theocratic principles and legal myths. What intrigued him on this shelf was the rule of two churches in the same kingdom, a rare case of multi-religiosity on the northern continent. They had not been allied before. The Sun God had appeared very early - the earliest of the gods, according to the records he had read. The Harvest Goddess had not appeared until the light had long bathed the earth.

And it seems that the royal family is closer to the Church of Haya than to the Temple. He was well aware of this, after all, he was also a noble. Although the title of the king's heir is always Son of the Sun, and the temple leader is the one who gives the orb and sceptre to the king at his coronation. It seemed that they had broken down for a century.

He had no interest in anything, so he could think of anything. He moved to the second bookshelf, the one he needed most for his practice. The legal regulations were hotly interpreted and debated by scholars, based on the modern Twenty-Two Table Rule, together with the customary law and canon law of the Ceto Kingdom across the sea.

Like an oasis in the desert, this land was free from theocratic influence. The power center revolved around the Isandros Academy, which stood on the land called Frithestan, the land of freedom. It was also a port city where ships from far and wide brought in goods and treasures. It was like a crossroads of trade and culture, where products from the land of Anatole and the southern continent were traded by ships the Cetites called the East Leviathans.

When he headed to the academy, noticing that people cared more about their own plight than the news from the capital. They were hungrier for their daily meals than for the weird epidemic. It was just a dinner chat or a business bargain, Cassius concluded. He was the same, he admitted.

He flashed back to the heated debates that had erupted among the academics and scholars, the collision of thoughts and views over the strange plague that had struck the capital square. This event sparked a conflict over the responsibility of the royal family and the sanctums. As the death toll subsided and order returned, dark forces continued to manipulate from the shadows. In a kingdom of plural faiths, souls had multiple choices, but they wished to seek more, and that led to trouble. In this city, sects from enemy nations, rebels, and heretics blended, creating a tempestuous atmosphere where religion held little sway and people valued freedom over divine scripture.

But what all this had to do with him, Cassius was perplexed. He didn't care too much about anything, so he can pay attention to a lot of things. But in the end, it just stopped there, as superficial as the way he looked at himself.

As he wandered, he noticed that he was standing in front of a strange bookshelf, he didn't seem to remember this thing in his foggy mind. "Praise the book." He mumbled what the librarian said, using his own nonchalant tone. He hoped to find something relevant today.

...

Upon receiving another force acting on his simulation form, Althur quickly managed to escape the World of Details, but the storm around him made navigation difficult. Althur experienced a situational effect from a faint force interacting with the information surrounding the corpse, causing him to become aware of fluctuations in the real world. He quickly regained consciousness and emerged from the storm. Stabilize his mind for a moment. He immediately asked the person next to him a question.

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He paused at the young gentleman's question, his mind torn between resolve and doubt. But then, that familiar and feeble feeling stirred his thoughts. As a walking dead, but still feeling warmth and blood pulsating beneath his skin. He sought a clue to his wicked life,

"Two years ago." Peter said curtly.

"Two years." The man pressed on.

"You didn't answer my earlier questions." His voice was flat and cold.

"What's the point. I don't know who you are, sir."

"I don't like to bother people, normally. That's not how I operate." Althur said

"It's not my job to bring in the abnormal."

"Abnormal." Peter felt a jolt in his mind as he caught the word. He knew he was far from normal. No one felt comforted or close to dead bodies. He didn't mind the heat and the stench of death in the basement, but he hated the aura that the Haya priests carried, he sensed the silent rejection when he entered the Haya church, and the invisible reverence from the altar at the end of the cellar.

"Why are you answering now?" Peter sensed sarcastic voice in the man's voice.

"Then why are you asking me again? "

"I'm asked another question." The young man's voice sounded irritated.

Peter sighed, "So what anomaly you're talking about, I doubt it." He said in a respectful tone, "Please!"

Peter lingered for the man's answer. But nothing came, even after a long time.

Althur's mind raced. James had died from another force, "Death," a rare and ancient power like Frial's that clashed with the Haya Church. James' corpse revealed that the anomaly of his death was tied to that force. Althur knew enough to deduce that Death's authority of silence and cessation had caused the supernatural power and soul to vanish.

He groaned inwardly, which also meant that this was different from the disappearance of his mentor Liam's soul. The emergence of a force beyond demonic or evil signs was another danger. Althur was not facing a dead end, but a maze of twists and turns shrouded in darkness. He was not dreading to tread upon it, but he had no choice. But as a mysterious traveler, he hated to miss his destination.

He faced challenges from map makers and a woman. Considering Winston's story, Althur had to ask the woman for clues. He could not rule out that she was the cause of this man's death. He glanced over at a pale, sickly teenager who stood in stark contrast to Althur's current guise. He was silent and cold, as lifeless as a corpse. From the moment he met him, he doubted that this man was suffering from the Force or the Mystic Syndrome, as his previous questions implied. Since the youth was secretive, he did not pry further, but he hoped to uncover more connections between Death and this man. After calming himself, he offered another question.

When the man confessed that he had seen ghosts two years ago, Althur weighed the possibilities. Most likely, some sacred items or spaces related to Death had emerged at least two years ago. He wondered if he should investigate other mysterious deaths, which would require Winston's records, church information, and police files to confirm his hunch. The power of the Force was something he couldn't easily wield. Others might call it a gift, but it's true nature was not. It was a trade-off. He was a traveler, but he lacked the ability to tear through space to travel, at least not in a comfortable way.

"It's a cheap bargain. I have some ideas. Meet me at the Black Diamond Inn on Dormer Road if you want to talk more. I can't promise I'll stay there always." The gentleman's reply oozed with smugness. Peter answered calmly.

"Fine."

"Let's leave now and snuff out that candle. It's not good for you to hold it long."

Peter hurried to comply, eager to learn about his anomaly. He silently put out each candle. When he came back, the man had vanished from the cellar.