When Caster opened his eyes, he realized two things. That he was probably still alive, and that Elenore was nowhere to be seen. He slowly sat up from the bed he was lying in.

He was inside a dark building, scarcely lit by torchlight that came from outside his small room.

I don’t remember this place. Did I get teleported or something?

“Your Holiness!”

Caster flinched as a voice shouted at him from the other side of the bed. Grabbing his heart, he snapped his head toward the person who scared him.

“Phoebe!” He loudly acknowledged her, but she didn’t seem to understand his frustration.

“I moved you here after you decided to meditate while that harlot attempted to seduce you with her bosom.”

“You… she… what?”

Oh, she means they put me here when I passed out. But… Caster looked at his stats. Nope, I didn’t take any damage. Could it be that was the result of a spell effect? Maybe I just passed out from the shock of touching a woman for the first time in… my entire life.

“This is the Temple of Caster. It’s but a crude, fool’s imitation of the glorious Temple I will create for you one day, but for now, please forgive. We do not have supplies for grand marble palaces that reach as high as the mountains, as you deserve.”

Every time I forget she’s way too into the whole ‘me being a God,’ she has something even crazier than the last to say. Oh well, back to pretending like I’m what they say I am.

Caster sighed, slowly moving out of the bed. He stood firm, his legs stable. It felt like he hadn’t been sleeping at all. He strode forward, leaving the small room and bed behind. The next area was a circular one, with a round table and a dozen chairs taking up the vast majority of the space. On the other side of the room was the door, leading to the outside world.

“You guys built the temple already? How long was I out… meditating for?”

“Only a few hours my Lord.”

A few hours?! And they build this thing that quickly? It’s insane how good Woody is at building things! I bet the villagers seeing me again helped them work faster too. Man, Casterville’s gonna be bustling in a few weeks at most!

“I expect nothing less from the master of all crafts,” Caster nodded making his way around the huge table toward the other side of the room. Phoebe stuck closely at his side.

“What’s all this for?” Caster asked, waving leisurely to the empty chairs.

“It is your Temple, sir. Ah, you wish to hear it in my lowly human words! Thank you for the consideration.”

This looks like a backwoods brand-name conference center, not a temple. But yeah sure, I totally know what’s going on Phoebe.

“When we, your Inner Circle decide to hold a meeting and decide on important matters on behalf of Casterville, we can use this Temple and roundtable in order to link our thoughts to yours. That way, you will no longer be bordered by holding our feeble hands and will have much more time to carry on with your righteous destiny of conquering this wicked world.”

“The whole of the Inner Circle, you say?”

Who the hell is my Inner Circle?

“All members that hold titles of great responsibility in Casterville, my Lord. Master Craftsman Andre, Grand General Amberkirke, Mayor Sherman. All of us can meet here and speak with you, should you answer our call. The Inquisitors will technically be members of the Inner Circle as well, as their missions will be of grave importance for us in the future.”

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Clever – Knowledge is Power, Activated! +1 Arcane!

“Inquisitors?”

“They will be taken from the most dedicated villagers of Casterville’s flock. Each one will have to survive methods of training only a true adherent of Caster could attain. They will be our spies in the shadows and our most elite Challengers.”

Oh, cult spies, I should have known. Then again, the first Elenore mentioned some kind of Inquisitor way back then. I guess all Gods have factions like that.

“I see. If any single one of the members of Inner Circle needs to contact me, let them know they can do so with the roundtable at any time.”

They see me as a God, so I don’t want to discourage them from contacting me if something goes wrong. It’s not too nice or friendly, it’s just responsible!

“So… how does a cleric such as yourself manage to allow the Inner Circle to link thoughts with me?”

I hope it isn’t with mind-boxes or some other weirld format like the way I contact Yohg. That would get very annoying very quickly.

> Phoebe: Like this, my Lord.

Oh goddamn it.

“Well done. I see you’ve already mastered the box-speaking art. I knew you were the right choice as Pontiff of the Temple of Caster!” Caster cheered.

Phoebe stood totally still for a moment, then her entire body began to shake ever so slightly.

What? What did I do now?!

A few tears fell from her eyes, streaking down her cheeks and onto the stone floor.

“My Lord, I’m nothing more than a wretch from the Badlands. There are so many others that are far more deserving of that title.”

“Not to me, you aren’t. You will be the greatest cleric Perdita has ever seen, I know it!”

"T-thank you,” Phoebe murmured.

She seems exhausted. Hasn’t she been up for days now?!

“Where are Woody and Sherman now? I can speak to them about Casterville’s next projects, but you need to rest. Your devotion is inspiring, but you can't help us save the world if you kill yourself in exhaustion. Now go eat and sleep, that’s an order!”

“I… of course. Both of your chosen are underground, working on the catacombs. I’ll take my leave, my Lord.” Phoebe explained.

Her voice got softer and softer by each fraction of a second she shuffled toward the nearest chair at the roundtable. She barely had the energy to nudge it to the side, then sat. Passing out instantly.

She’s kinda cute when her eyes are closed, and she’s unconscious, and she’s not saying anything ominous in a spine-chilling way.

Caster turned and headed out the door, letting the outside sunshine on his face once more.

Now, where’s that underground…

Caster stopped in his tracks. Even if he hadn’t asked Phoebe where Woody and Sherman were, it was obvious that both men were underground. Caster could tell, because out of the hundreds of wooden logs that the lumberjack villagers had felled, dozens were floating on their own, each one going down deeper inside the earth, in a single file line.

Caster made his way to where the small shack hiding the well once stood. It was gone now – along with the well itself. Instead, there was a hole in the ground. It was a neatly dug hole. It had been drilled down in a clean circle formation, either by a man with a shovel and crippling OCD, or someone with full mastery of all things crafting.

Caster stepped down the hole, making his way into the belly of Casterville. He’d expected the tunnel to get dark, but the sun’s light reached far down the hole. Even when it began to dim, the sun’s light was replaced by torches that sparkly lit the area. Reaching the last major step, Caster hit the bottom of the hole. Looking around, he realized just how massive these catacombs were.

Everything was stone, which he expected. What he wasn’t expecting was the already built lanes of flowing, clean water. Woody sat at the center of it all, one hand on his chin, the other on his knee. He would occasionally raise his knee-hand and point. When he did, the entire area shifted to his ever so slight command.

With the latest finger flick, one of the lines of smooth stone redirected itself, carrying the stream of water inside its ‘v-shaped center along a new path. There were at least a dozen similar structures crowding the underground masterpiece, each one heading off in different directions. Yet with a patient painter’s wrist, Woody seemed more than confident as to where each one went, and where the next had to go.

There was another section of the underground catacombs that Woody was facing away from. Only a single torch lit the area, and it barely illuminated the odd pieces of metal covering every inch of the circular alcove. Caster moved closer to see what it was.

Thousands of knife-sized shards of black crystals covered the area. The largest ones seemed to grow on the outside edges of the obsidian ring. At the center, there was nothing but a small crater.

“Onyx Selinian Crystals,” Woody spoke.

Caster turned, but the craftsman hadn’t budged. He was still focused on his work.

“There’s only one kind of creature that can make such a thing.”