Tiny droplets of white fire rained down from the sky. Each droplet contained a glimpse of possible futures and reflected the viewer's deepest desires.

The stars in the sky could not compare to the spectacle, and neither could the sun and moon. And where the droplets fell and answered these silent prayers, they reflected, the accumulated fear and worry and dread that had built up during the demon tide evaporated. It was catharsis on the deepest level.

"What did you wish for, Sorin?" asked Lawrence, clutching a folded piece of wish paper. "Something good, I'm sure."

"What Sorin wished for is none of your business," scolded Stephan. "Everyone's wish is private, though feel free to share yours. Rumor has it that the odds of a wish being granted after someone shares it are significantly lower.

"Wait, really?" said Lawrence, pulling his wish close to his chest. "Then I'll keep this one to myself. It's very important."

Sorin rolled his eyes at the exchange and focused on his own wish. It was a toned-down version of his original request for the truth. This time, he only asked for a fragment of what had transpired. A vision. He currently had nothing to go off of, and even his suspicions that foul play was involved were unfounded.

The wish fire rain was a blessing for the entire outpost. While the blessing was commensurate with one's contributions, every single soul in the outpost, excluding potential traitors, had contributed in some fashion.

The strongest blessings could manifest as items, skills, cultivation techniques—virtually anything imaginable. As for the weakest blessings, they would consolidate a cultivator's foundation and fix a few minor flaws. Mortals that had contributed enough might get an ailment cured or find their chronic injuries alleviated.

Sorin and his group had no need for weaker blessings. Instead, they needed something concrete to quickly increase their strength so they could continue to do battle.

Generally, only one wish was granted per person, but heroes and bone-forging cultivators, who had contributed the most, were the exception. Several orbs of white fire grew steadily before each member of Sorin's party as the rain continued to descend. Each orb represented a single wish, and unlike normal wishes, they were guaranteed to be something the blessed required.

Just a fragment, thought Sorin as he watched the center-most orb. Just a smidgeon. Just a small piece of what transpired will do. He stared at the orb until his eyes burned and his vision grew blurry, until finally, he saw something within its depths. An image of white fire that recreated a scene in vivid detail.

Five people were shown. One with a bow, two with staves, and two with swords and shields. They were somewhere deep underground, where a thick evil aura hid them away from prying eyes and divination spells.

Sorin immediately recognized the man with the staff as his father and the woman with the staff as his mother. They were both casting spells to melt down their enemies, though occasionally, his father turned to one of their combatants and cast a potent healing spell that regrew arms and legs and kept them fighting against all odds.

Then… treachery. The archer suddenly fired off a shot at his mother's head. His father tried to heal her but was stabbed in the back by one of the swordsmen. The second swordsman came to his aid and cut down the archer, buying his father precious time to finish healing his mother's wound.

He managed it in the end, but his companion paid for it with his life. In a fit of rage, his father unleashed great power through his staff, reducing the swordsman into a puddle of melted flesh.

Though his father and mother survived, they were still surrounded by demons. They fought bravely, but without the support of their companions, their injuries began to stack up. Their equipment started to fail.

His father was the first to fall, and his mother, in her grief, cast a spell that used her life as fuel and destroyed their remaining enemies.

Their corpses lay there for many days before a group finally found them. A man whose face Sorin couldn't see picked through their belongings as though searching for something. He didn't find what he was looking for, but he took their belongings regardless.

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The last thing Sorin saw was the man cremating their corpses with white fire.

I grant thee… a fragment of what came to pass, Sorin Abberjay Kepler, spoke the voice of Hope as the wish fire orb fainted. The demise of your parents was a result of betrayal. As for whom or what was responsible for it, and what their motives were… that's for you to discover.

Sorin had many questions, but he was glad for even this tiny piece. Were his parents betrayed for money? Because of a grudge? Or was everything instigated by a skill or spell? It was difficult to tell from what little he'd seen, and the man that had come after was difficult to identify.

But now Sorin knew that his parents hadn't died in a freak accident. There was some sort of foul play involved. Moreover, someone had gone to the scene to recover their belongings and had tried to recover what Sorin highly suspected were the research notes that had been sealed in his bones.

"Did you get anything good?" asked Lawrence, who'd just opened a wish fire orb. "Look at this! Shadow Stalking Boots! Two-star grade!"

"Yeah," answered Sorin. "I got an answer to a question."

"An answer?" said Lawrence. "That sounds boring."

"Your boots sound boring," said Sorin. His eyes wandered over to his companions. Stephan and Gareth had each obtained a skill book, while Daphne had gotten a spell book that had her pretty excited.

Satisfied with his gains so far, Sorin turned his attention to the two remaining wish fire orbs that were just starting to materialize as a physical object. It was a small object, barely bigger than a head, and it was made of a golden metal etched with thousands of tiny runes. "Nice," said Sorin, inspecting the item. "A cauldron."

Information poured into his mind, informing him that the cauldron was called a Purelight Cauldron. It didn't provide any assistance in the nurturing or fusion parts of the crafting process, but it did allow the user to filter their mana and remove unwanted contaminants.

The metal was extremely resistant to poisons, corruption, and alchemical contamination. It also had a self-repair function that could be activated by feeding the cauldron mana crystals and demon cores. Overall, Sorin was very pleased with the item he'd been awarded and was excited to see what came next.

His companions obtained interesting rewards as well. Gareth obtained a strange-looking bow that could take on many different shapes, while Stephan gained a hammer. Daphne obtained what appeared to be a calligraphy brush with crimson hairs and a white and gold handle.

As for Lawrence, he gained the most questionable item – some kind of black orb that could disrupt wards and shields without outright destroying them. Great, thought Sorin. Hope is enabling the troublemaker, just like we'd feared. He shuddered to think of the damage control that would be required now that Lawrence was a bone-forging cultivator.

The third reward has to be the best one, thought Sorin as he looked at the final orb expectantly. It was the orb that had absorbed the most wish fire, so its contents would naturally exceed the precious cauldron he'd obtained in value.

I already have a dagger and a cauldron, and my armor underwent some sort of evolution when it drank in my two-star blood, thought Sorin. Our hero medallion provides a small storage space, so I don't need a storage item. Do I need boots? A cloak? A ring?

Finally, it was time for the third item. Sorin's wish fire orb flattened out, then started to solidify. A book! The best kind of reward! Thought Sorin. Most books were skill books, but there was a chance that they could be valuable spell books.

Unfortunately, Sorin's joy was short-lived. "You've got to be kidding me," he said, taking in the title and author of the book.

"What's this?" said Lawrence, eyeing the book. "Oh, is that a cultivation manual? Those are rare. Thought's pretty strange that I can't read the title. Also, don't you already have a pretty good cultivation technique?"

"What did you guys get?" asked Sorin, trying his best to ignore his own reward.

"I got a crossbow with replenishing bolts," said Lawrence happily. "There's even an insert for a vial that will automatically apply poisons! I'm going to need some of your blood, by the way. On a daily basis."

"Me too," said Gareth. "Apparently, this quiver does variable elemental arrows, but it has the option of applying poison from a vial. Actually, I think that if I feed it enough blood, it can make arrows composed entirely of poison."

"What a coincidence," said Stephan, taking out a pair of gauntlets. "I can't usually use gauntlets in my shifted form. And they even have this insert for poison vials that I can apply to my attacks! Ingenious."

"Um…" said Daphne, looking awkwardly at Sorin.

"Let me guess," said Sorin with a sigh. "That stuff has a receptacle that can somehow apply poison through your spells?"

"As weird as that sounds, yes, it does!" said Daphne. "So, make sure to bleed yourself adequately every day. I have lots of experiments to perform, and I think the Mages Guild might be willing to purchase a research paper exploring the poison delivery enchantments on these items. For science, of course."

Sorin sighed as he finally set his sights book before him. He should have known that with the fox being nice to him on the first two wishes, there would be a twist with the third.

The book was nice. It looked very expensive. It was bound with rare magical leather and wrapped in many layers of golden chains, each one containing thousands of tiny runes painted with white ink.

It looked impressive, making it a shame that his companions couldn't see its true appearance. The only downsides to the item were the title and the author:

Embracing and Cultivating Evil—a Practical Guide to Unleashing the Ultimate You by Your Friendly Neighborhood Fox Deity—Life Coach, Cataclysmic Entity, and Corruption Enthusiast.