Glenn frowned, before rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"The Mother? Whose mother?"

Josh turned his palms to the sky helplessly, looking as confused as his interlocutor.

"I don't know, I just know they called her the Mother. When I tried to get clarification, they told me she was the Mother of All. After that, they became wary of me and stopped talking," The pale man explained, sighing loudly to end his sentence. Glenn looked at Javier sleeping on the ground silently.

"What about the others? Sahro, Tarana, and your team?" He asked while carefully untying his tie. Josh stared at the ground with a dark expression, and his fists tightened, turning his knuckles white.

"That's...That's the weirdest of all..." Josh took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly.

"It was your teammate Tarana that showed signs of it first...Then Valer, our mage..." He hid his face in both his hands, before continuing, "...Finally, both Gentle Knight and the Black Heir turned too..."

Glenn's face paled when he heard the term Josh used. Turned. His blood ran cold as he stared at the trembling man.

"Strangely, only Mr. Maron was spared, but all the others...They all began to preach Her," Josh suddenly punched his knee, tears apparent in his eyes, "...If only...If only I had realized sooner...!"

Glenn shook his head and gave Josh the space he needed to piece his thoughts back together. After calming down, Josh kept a straight face as he finished his explanations.

"They all became fanatics. True fanatics, led by that cursed girl as their leader, Tarana..." Glenn's eyebrows rose, and he gestured at the pale man to continue.

"She began calling herself the Chosen Daughter, and her powers grew immensely. She..." Josh's eyes widened as he recalled what he witnessed, "...She was able to make entire fields grow in a matter of seconds with a bountiful harvest, trees surging up from the ground instantly, while vines moved to help the workers build their houses. I was impressed and grateful at this surprising show of power, but that sentiment soon grew into one of worry, when she began..." Josh swallowed his saliva loudly, struggling to say what he wanted.

"...The sacrifices," He finally spat, startling Glenn who was listening until now silently while taking off his upper clothes to treat his wounds. He ignored the pain in his ribs as he jumped to his feet and grabbed Josh's collar.

"Sacrifices? What do you mean, sacrifices?!?"

Josh looked to the side with a guilty expression, and Glenn let go of him while taking a step back, slowly sitting back down.

"At first it was only the beasts we hunted, the corpses would simply...vanish, without any traces of anything happening. Then, we would find the prey we previously hunted running like nothing happened in the forest," Josh rubbed his forehead, scowling, "...It was truly disturbing. I felt like I was going mad, even more since I was the only one to notice," He sighed, before staring at Javier angrily.

"Of course, this silent bastard didn't bother telling me he had noticed the same things. He didn't even bother telling me anything at all!" The anger in his eyes quickly disappeared, and he wrang his hands while breathing deeply. Glenn suddenly realized someone was missing in the equation, the foreigner from the Southern Continent, Toumu Toula.

"What about that weird guy who did a staring contest with me, Toumu Toula?" Glenn mused, instantly regretting when he saw Josh's expression turn sour. The man stood up, turning his back at Glenn while rubbing the back of his neck.

"...He died, sacrificed to that damned stone, his limps cut off like a slaughtered animal..." Josh whispered, the wind failing to drown his words. Glenn lowered his head silently and didn't say another word for a long minute.

"...My deepest apologies," He finally muttered, making the pale man turn back toward him. Josh chuckled with a sad smile, a dejected expression on his face.

"We knew what we were signing for when becoming Fixers, so no need for that. It's only our fault for being too...weak," He trailed off, kicking a rock in his way. Glenn shook his head and leaned back carefully as he pressed his left hand on his ribs, a wisp of icy wind escaping it. The cold was calming the pain, but it was only a temporary solution. The young man scowled as he increased the intensity of the cold, creating a thin layer of blue ice over his ribs. He gave up putting on his clothes normally after a slight movement of his arms made him feel like regretting the fact of living. He unsummoned and summoned the clothes back, abusing the Soulbound enchantment as much as he could.

"Anyway," Josh wiped a tear away, "...We fled when they changed their targets to us. For some reason, Toumu Toula, Javier, and I aren't affected by whatever mindfuckery is going on over there," Josh finished, dusting his pants off from the dirt on it. Glenn played with the handle of his axe, lost in thoughts.

'Why would they be unaffected? Why would I be? What's different from us and the others who...who "turned"?' The young man wondered, his fingers passing over the engraving in the handle of the axe.

'I think I have an idea of what's going on,' Diamanes suddenly blurted out, startling his host. The entity had remained silent during the whole conversation, making Glenn completely forget his existence.

'Brain-washing, time manipulation, corruption, an old nameless heathen god...Shit, what kind of name is "The Mother"?' Glenn silently agreed with the last statement, letting the entity continue.

'I think whatever first destroyed the village is still here, in the shape of that giant red jewel, and it's slowly building its strengths back up,' Glenn gulped, before crossing his fingers together.

'A Fallen Piece can be as much of a blessing as a deadly curse. I think that shit is part of the latter category. And the only reason those pale bastards and you resisted the thing's influence is that something is intervening to curb the Mother's efforts. Why? I have no idea, but often, only a stronger Curse can push off a weaker one, even if it's quite hard imagining something stronger than something that can manipulate time.' Diamanes let out a tensed chuckle, smacking his lips loudly in Glenn's mind.

'I guess there's only the usual solution to this problem?'

'Yep, smash the jewel. And the host if there's one,' The entity quickly added, making Glenn's eyebrows rise.

'A host?'

Diamanes hummed in his mind.

'Of course. Evil entities always manifest themselves through a carnal incarnation, you can call them avatars, hosts, whatever,' Glenn looked at his hand wordlessly, thinking that whatever Diamanes was describing was eerily similar to the situation they were in. The mouth appeared in his palm, smiling widely before passing his tongue over his teeth.

'Am I controlling you somehow, or maybe brainwashing you? Did I commit some manner of mischief through your body?' The young man closed his hand, ignoring the entity's mocking laughter. 'That's what I thought, yeah.'

"So, what do we do now?" Josh looked at Glenn with his arms crossed, a distressed expression on his face.

"We ran away, but we can't leave that place like this!" He exclaimed. The young man listened intently, rubbing his chin slowly, before tilting his head.

"I mean...Why not?" Josh's face froze, and his eyes widened as he stared at Glenn.

"This is clearly above our paygrade, nothing stops us from going back to King's Rise and getting some help from the Higher Circles, or maybe from Onnea's Church and the Gold Church." The young man simply stated, leaning back slightly. Josh's fist tightened, and he bit down on his lips, before relieving the pressure in his hand.

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"...We already tried, and we ended up here, finding you to fight whatever that creature was," The pale man blurted out, his cheeks tinted with a rare red of embarrassment. Glenn mentally crossed that option away and pushed himself up from the ground, holding his waist with a pained expression.

"Then we have no other choice but to somehow fight whatever is going on, old heathen god or not," Glenn stretched, feeling his ribs crackle slightly as the pain rang in his body. There was no joy in inflicting himself with such pain, but he had to get used to it, because he didn't have a magic way to heal that, and he didn't have months of rest to fix it. Too bad there were no priests of Onnea in the expedition, or he could have kidnapped one and forced them through brainwashing to heal him.

'I'm starting to enjoy the way you're thinking now,' Diamanes happily commented, making Glenn wince in displeasure.

'Shut up,'

The young man walked up Javier, and with a twirl of his right hand, summoned a transparent barrier under the sleeping man, lifting him in a magic stretcher. He made the improvised carrier rise to the level of his waist and began walking toward the forest, in the direction of the Still Peak. Josh ran up to him, opening his arms in confusion.

"What...What do you mean? There's a whole village there, and there's no way I'm killing any of them," The man said with a decided expression. Glenn stopped and looked back inquisitively.

"...Even the guys from the Thorn's Church?"

Josh thought for a second, before shrugging.

"No, fuck those sickos,"

Glenn nodded and turned back, continuing to walk with Javier floating beside him. They were going to need a plan, and right now, he had none. But the first part of whatever was going to happen needed Javier to be there, so the current priority was to find shelter.

And what is better than an underground temple hidden from all eyes?

----------------------------------------

Sahro straightened his clothes, a new outfit quite different he was used to wearing, composed of white, creamy pants and an equally pristine white shirt. His tanned skin made a stark contrast with them, giving him an even more charming look. He looked at himself in the mirror with a satisfied expression, rubbing the white mark on his forehead slightly. He turned around and lifted the flap of his tent, letting the warm light of the sun land on his face. He squinted his eyes, before getting out.

Palancar revealed itself to him in all its splendor, rows of well-built wooden houses creating neat, clean dirt streets. There was still ash everywhere, but it was what brought the charm to this cozy little village, like a grey snow blanket protecting the ground. The Black Heir looked back in his tent at the curved sword lying on the ground, before shrugging.

"Why would I need it, anyway...?" He muttered, before smiling widely at one of the villagers passing by. It was Trenton, one of the natives' lumberjacks, moving around with an iron axe on his shoulder. The man nodded back at Sahro with an equally large smile.

"Hey, Sahro, how is it going?" He exclaimed with friendliness, approaching the young man for a handshake. Sahro didn't hesitate as he grabbed the hand.

"Same old, same old. It's been a while since we've seen any troublemakers, and we couldn't find anything creeping around either," He answered with a laid-back tone, the lumberjack chuckling lightly.

"Haha, I'm so glad you guys arrived. Ever since you were there, life got much, much easier. At least, when a beast roams around, we don't need to flee like we used to!"

Sahro curtsied slightly, his right hand on his chest and his left on his back.

"Oh but please, that's only my job!" Trenton burst out laughing, before patting the Black Heir's shoulder, pulling him up.

"Come on, we're going to be late to the wedding!" He exclaimed, excitation visible on his face. Sahro's eyes lit up, and he slapped his forehead.

"Curses, I forgot about that! I thought it was just a simple preaching day! Wait, I'm going to change—"

The young man couldn't help his sentence as he was pulled away by the strong grip of the lumberjack. Sahro could have easily resisted, but he didn't, sighing instead dejectedly.

"Who cares about that, you're already the best looking in the village anyway! Even the groom would be jealous of you!" Trenton chuckled, walking toward the center of the village. There, where a brewery was supposed to stand, was instead a round wooden building with green, lively vines wrapped around it. The sculpture of a woman opening her arms warmly was mounted over the roof, casting a shadow over the entry of the building.

They met dozens and dozens of villagers, workers, or even mercenaries walking toward the same place as them. All of them, without exception, were wearing lively and happy expressions, and most were discussing excitedly about the ceremony. They were all dressed in similar white clothes to Sahro's, making for quite a harmonious sight.

"I still can't believe how fast they built that church," Sahro whispered to Trenton, who shrugged in response.

"It's all the Mother's will," He simply stated. Sahro agreed with a nod and posted himself right beside the door of the church. As one of the main pillars of the village, it was his duty to open the doors to the church for when the wedding would start. The villagers lined up one after the other, forming a long procession of honor. The youngest were armed with baskets of flowers and ash and were waiting for the groom to arrive. The lady was already waiting inside the church, with the Daughter officing over the ceremony.

Finally, the awaited man arrived. Gentle Knight arrived with a wide smile, before letting the groom pass, closing the walk behind him. Valer, rid of his cliche mage robe and hat, was now wearing a white suit of pristine elegance, and flowers were adorning his clothes in every part the villagers had seen fit to place them. The mage was red with shyness, but he wore a brave smile as he began walking toward the entry of the church.

The whole crowd suddenly became silent, and simply stared at the groom with wide smiles. The forest itself had shut itself, and only Valer and Gentle Knight's steps in the ashy ground were making sounds.

'Ahh, I'm so excited, but I need to shut up. Too bad Glenn isn't there...' Sahro thought while watching the groom traverse the procession, before frowning slightly.

'Who the hell is Glenn? What am I even thinking about?' He shrugged it off, and when the groom arrived in front of the door, he reached for the handle of the door and opened the church. A vibrant scent of burnt wood mixed with aromatic plants came out of the building and washed over the crowd. The Black Heir drew a deep breath, filling his lungs with the pleasant smell, while gesturing for Valer to enter.

Following him, the villagers waiting at the end of the line entered the church, one after the other, Sahro being the last to enter the building. He closed the door behind him and turned around, enjoying the sight of the beautiful church. The walls were covered in engravings describing the story of how Palancar started, with the exodus to the Still Peak, the arrival of the helpers from the Thorn's Church, then Mr. Maron's procession as well as Gentle Knight's team. It glossed over the sad events that went on with the fleeting fiend and his underlings, but that was no glorious story. There was no need to tell it to anyone.

Sahro moved his gaze to the center of the church, where a statue similar to the one on the top of the building was standing. But instead of opening its arms warmly, the woman of the statue was hugging kindly a giant, red jewel, that pulsed with livingness. Ash swirled over the stone, falling on the ground under it or flying randomly in the church. At the base of the statue was a stand where the Daughter was waiting. Tarana had her arms locked behind her back, and a warm smile decorated her pretty face. Ceremonial clothes adorned her small body, making her look more like a priest and less like a mercenary.

She glanced at Valer arriving and opened her arms while the corner of her lips rose even higher.

"Welcome, Chosen One. Please, don't be shy, come over," She held her hand out, and Valer shyly grabbed it. She pulled him gently before the stand and placed herself behind it. She clapped her hands, and the atmosphere of the church changed imperceptibly. Sahro's breath accelerated, while his thoughts raced over.

'It's starting.'

"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, we gather here today in the holy sanctity of our dear Mother, in joy and happiness, to witness a marvelous moment," Tarana began, before raising her hand toward Valer, who bowed respectfully.

"Here is Valer, son of Zolan of Blackrock. Sadly, the father of the groom couldn't make it to the wedding, but his spirit is with us," She nodded, before turning toward the statue. Its hands suddenly moved, lowering the red jewel to the ground, and gently placing it beside the Chosen Daughter. Ash flew into the room, covering the clean and white clothes of the crowd, but no one made any movements to dust it away. They all just watched in happiness and adoration. Sahro was no exception, his hands shaking with excitement.

"...Today, Valer, Chosen One, shall become Her son, marrying Her blood and becoming, therefore, part of Her," She waved at the stone, where a slit suddenly appeared, breathing in and out air, a raspy sound echoing in the church. Valer approached with trembling steps, kneeling in front of the stone in respect and adoration.

Tarana warmly grabbed the mage's face and approached her own from his. She bent down, and passionately kissed the man for a long minute, leaving him breathless and red with love. She then looked back at the crowd and opened her arms widely.

"Let the bride and groom kiss!" She shouted, and the crowd burst out in excited yells, throwing flowers, ash, or their hats in the air. Valer lifted his head and looked at the red jewel with tears of happiness in his eyes.

"...I love y—!"

The stone suddenly warped, opening in half, the two sides of the slit catching Valer and crushing him down, swallowing his body slowly. Blood flew in the air, controlled by macabre sorcery, and ran down on the happy believers, who opened their mouths and drank the blood of their friend, neighbor, protector, and teammate. Sahro raised his head to the sky, about to open his mouth and drink his fill, but the white mark on his forehead suddenly glowed with intense light, crippling him with pain.

He knelt, trying to rip it off with his nails, but the pain was only getting stronger. Suddenly, it died down, and the Black Heir raised his head, his ears ringing and his thoughts a mess. He looked around, his mind struggling to process the horror surrounding him.

The yells had died down, the happy laughs too, and the church had become entirely silent.

And the entire crowd was staring at him with a blank expression. The Black Heir's face paled, and he felt his heart racing with fear and panic.

"Holy shit."