The villagers formed a large circle around the fire, and two of them stepped forwards until they were perilously close to the fire. As the ring of villages circled and danced around the fire, the two inside it danced wildly, thrashing their arms in the air and flinging their upper bodies dramatically up and down as if to dislocate their body.

"Quite a dance, eh," Danemy said. "Is that safe?"

"Ah, we would never come up with something like this," the guard said, smiling. "It is the dance of the Emati people, because we are sending a prayer to their gods. In the earlier times, many of them had died in this way, to the fire. But they have pared back the dance slightly since then, and now we can follow it easily. It only looks dangerous, but we don't find it difficult."

Soon, the loud chanting and dancing stopped, and the villagers stood in place, shuffling around disappointedly.

"This prayer didn't work," the guard sighed. "Well, this happens sometimes. It was a prayer to the Emati god of fortune, now we shall try a prayer to Aluriel, what is called in your language books their 'God of Witnessing Transcendence.' But that is not exact, maybe better is 'God at the doorway to transcendence.' The Emati say he stands at the gateway to heaven from earth, and shows the glory of heaven like a firefly in a dark night. The Emati say that moments of great beauty in nature, like pure waterfalls and mountains, are a display of heaven. That is why they are so frantic in their dance, they think that the fire is a gateway to heaven, and they hence act wild as a fire in order to try and commune with the gods."

"'Doorway to transcendence'? That's quite a complex image," Crucis said. "What kind of prayer will you offer?"

"He is also their god of ceremony and ritual, so if we can send a prayer to him, then maybe we will succeed at contacting more of the Emati gods. Listen, I will tell you our prayer."

The villagers began to dance again, similarly to the last time, but this time their shrieks were louder and almost sounded aggressive. As Crucis listened closely, he could make out that the beginning of the chant sounded like, 'chii ai sal aichii.'

"Here is what they are singing, in a way you could understand:

"Over the charred earth

the wave of firelight flies,

and beneath it our world

is twice benighted

by the fire's scars and by its shadows.

"O, star over the earth

spreading your wings,

you cast two shadows.

"No beauty resists your touch,

no hope does not wither,

and every king shall turn

to find you staring there.

"Alas, he who mounts a throne,

shall someday see your fiery eyes

waiting behind it,

or he who vaunts upon the world,

shall someday see the earth pale

when a golden seed of your primrose is planted."

"'Over the charred earth' was the part which sounded like 'chii ai sal aichii'?" Crucis did, doing his best to sportingly imitate the strange, bat-like language of the villagers.

The guard chuckled and patted him on the back, taking this attempt at the language in good faith, but responded seriously.

"Yes. 'Sal' means 'debris left below by something above,' it is typically used for hurricane or storm. But here, since the fire is above the earth, I say 'charred.' The word for 'benighted' here is also like that, it is similar to 'shadowed' in your language, but for us it is more strong, like eclipse by shadow. 'Firelight' is maybe a strange word, but it is close to what we said."

"I see. Well, that's a good translation, then, well done."

"Thank you. This prayer was a success, and we are rewarded with increased damage when we use magic, and better luck when forging weapons. Also, the 'success rate' of our prayers has increased for the next four attempts, especially for prayers to the Emati gods and those of their sister people, the Arkeet. Now we are debating which gods to try next."

As the villagers huddled around the fire and talked quietly, Crucis noticed a loud, bell-like noise from the side, as Grisier's [Sacred Coal] erupted into a heatless, magical white flame. Soon, it had transformed into a [Black Powder Spell Scroll], a spell which allowed Cryomancers to summon and cast a black powder that would cause intense cold if it touched the opponent. It was especially effective in a cold area, or if used in conjunction with ice.

Crucis guessed that the 'black powder' might be the colder equivalent to the white powder which the villagers had used to heat the iron mask before placing it onto the witch.

Now, the villagers began to form two large rings around the fire, each rotating in opposite directions as they danced. The outer ring moved in a ceremonial, slow counter-clockwise direction, while the inner ring was even more slow and only made small, fragile movements and steps.

"They have decided to give a prayer to a god of the Arkeet, name is Dorotea, she is known as the 'goddess of wretchedness.' She inhabits all wretchedness and frailty, they say, and gives comfort to the damned. The Arkeet are mostly extinct due to constant plague and disease, but we found a small outpost and killed them. They are a strange people, but also more powerful than the Emati, and that is why we send prayer to Dorotea."

This time, the chant was more high-pitched and stately, and at times almost sounded like a slow, elegant rendition of 'O Fortuna.'

The guard explained the chant.

"Misery loves company.

"My sole bride is the flowers upon my grave,

"Dorotea, sweet bride of pain,

"you are the lithe shadow that follows

the leper, in time with his step,

and mirrors his suffering

and never flees his side,

"your pulse withers away each winter,

like the song of a frail lyre,

within the hearts

of those who wander lost,

"you are death to the dying

and wail, by all suffering scarred.

"You are the angel that follows us

to the place of execution,

and the noose is your lips,

"eternal bride of the damned.

"You are the tear in the sapphire."

After the chant was done, the flames leapt notably into the air, but from the ashes a still, silent voice called out in an unfamiliar language. The villagers talked among themselves quickly, then prepared to chant again.

"The prayer was valid, but now she will 'interrogate' us," the guard said. "Sometimes, even if the prayer describes their domain, they will ask further, more specific questions to make sure. It is a tricky matter."

Crucis felt the sacred ash in his hands beginning to stir slightly, as if a fire occasionally flared up within it.

"What's their first question?" Danemy asked.

"A voice whispered it from the ashes," the guard answered. "It is, 'How am I an angel in the place of execution?'"

"She's fishing for compliments, is she?" Crucis laughed. "Well, hopefully you pull this off."

"Yes, yes. If she accepts our answer, I think she will have another question."

Q. How am I an angel in the place of execution?

You are the shadows that haunt the gallows,

the hanged man's choked cry is an echo of yours,

your voice is his last thought.

Your lips purse in silken penitence,

as you turn pale in his suffocation,

and your body wilts

beneath a lifeless stare.

Q. If this man wanted to see me, where could he find me?

You are around him

in the withered shadows of his eyes,

inside his heart,

and his pale corpse is the white of your wedding dress.

Q. And how would he see me?

You dwell in the darkness

evoked

when suffering obscures the vision,

and your world is a den of shadows,

and your husband is a corpse,

embraced in your white light,

making communion in death,

you have become one flesh.

"The last one was a 'trick question,'" the guard commented. "But it has been accepted! Excellent. That is rare luck, perhaps because of the blessing of Aluriel."

As this chant continued, Crucis' [Sacred Ash] had increasingly dissolved into a white flame. Now, this evaporated to reveal a small, elegant black sculpture of a stallion wth a headless rider. The mighty black stallion had a white, star-like mark on its head.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The item was marked as [The Headless Horseman], and its effect was described as follows:

[Confers the status effect 'Parasite' to the user while activated. The user's skin will rot, due to the effect of a parasite within the skin, but the parasite will carry out physical skills and plant itself upon the opponent with each successful hit, allowing it to direct its attacks more accurately. The user will be free to use miscellaneous or movement skills while the parasite is attacking. The attacks will grow stronger longer that the 'Parasite' effect lasts, but the effect will also start to drain the user's HP, and it is dangerous to use it for a minute or above. CD: 30 minutes.]

"I recognize this," the guard told him. "It is replica of a big ancient statue West of Kaxil, many different people worship there and say that it is one of their gods, but say the head fell off before. But Dravaistaya has told us that it was always headless. Some people have performed rituals in front of statue, and it allows them to even mutate their bodies, some grow extra limbs and climb trees like spiders... but it is overwhelming, it becomes addictive and they turn to shells for the parasite."

"I see. So is it safe to use?" Crucis said.

"All that comes from the sacred ash is powerful, so use it. The parasite's effect will heal after you are done. But not for too long, and not too often."

Crucis drew his sword, and activated [The Headless Horseman] in order to test it out.

He felt patches of his arms deaden as if anaesthetised, and soon this sensation began to spread across his legs and even face. Looking down, he immediately saw that parts of his right arm had begun to rot to a sickly, grey-green shade, with some skin beginning to peel.

As he scanned the rest of his body, there were many signs of this rot, which was spreading with each second. He even glimpsed, through the corner of his eye, a small, scar-like line of rot across the right side of his face.

Putting his unease aside, he tried a basic [Slash] with his sword. He saw his arm fly numbly from right to left, carrying his sword in an elegant, fast arc in front of him. He could barely feel the motion, but it looked forceful. The sword had glided with a strange combination of grace and rugged brute force, like a hunting osprey as its swoop submerges in water.

Remembering the item's description, he tried an [Overhead Strike]. As he noticed his arm begin to move, he used [Drift] to step to the side. The parasite effortlessly adapted to this, continuing the strike from its new position and following through with discipline.

The parasitic infestation was growing deeper, and Crucis noticed that his arms were by now mostly grey-green, with a few hints of red and black. As the rot set deeper, the parasite found fewer obstacles to its motion, and he could swing his sword at devastating speed. However, his HP was beginning to deplete, and while it was still just above 80% he wouldn't have much time left to try this item.

Trying a [Lunge], he felt his body sweep forwards nimbly under the effect of the parasite, and he decided to try a [Dodge Step] backwards to test the parasite further. As he stepped back, he saw that his arm had extended to twice its length, and continued to push forwards where he had originally lunged. The greening arm almost seemed to have a mucous life of its own, and retracted back into place once it had finished the strike.

Seemingly, as the parasite grew more powerful, it could pull off strange, alien-like feats that Crucis' original body was incapable of.

However, seeing his HP lower to 50%, Crucis immediately deactivated [The Headless Horseman], and his skin quickly returned to normal. He exhaled, as he settled calmly into his normal movements.

The parasite was seemingly very powerful, but using it for long periods of time would be hazardous. It would be best saved for moments where he needed it.

Looking around, he saw that DicingDevil and a few more players had also gained items from the sacred ash. DicingDevil was sliding on a pair of versatile grey-blue gloves, while Konstantin was playing around curiously with a glowing, white stone.

"What happened to your arm?" Vladimir asked light-heartedly. "You are Martian now?"

"I got turned into some kind of zombie," Crucis replied bemusedly. "What did Konstantin get? It looks valuable."

"He says it is [Light Stone], it increases speed of weapon a lot. Now he is bugging me, says he will become big Arch-Knight. Ambition is a danger!"

Although Vladimir poked fun at Konstantin, it was clear that Vladimir was also enthusiastic about the idea of his friend becoming an Arch-Knight, a sub-class which was well-known for its power in combat.

"That's a good choice," DicingDevil said. "Have you got your reward yet?"

"No, not yet..." Vladimir said. "Hopefully it is good."

"Sure, good luck."

Looking towards the fire, Crucis noticed that the villagers were in another loud chant, dancing around the fire in a similar, slow way to last time, though with slightly more stiffness and aggression to their movements. However, the chant seemingly fizzled out without a response.

After a few sentences, they began the chant again.

"We are trying now the Arkeet god named Demtzel, the god of 'longsuffering.' Our first prayer failed, but we try it again, because it has worked before. They worship him as mighty god who saved them from ancient persecution and led them here, using his silver bow and arrows to fend off rival people, when he incarnated as man. It is unlikely legend, but they believe it. Their myth also has many stories of him having 'flings' with their goddesses, including Dorotea and her sister Enia, goddess of the underworld. The stories are important to their religion, but we call it 'gossip-chant.'"

He looked at the chant. "This is interesting gossip-chant, though. Here is what they say."

The silver arrow does not sway in wind,

it follows the call of destiny

through lashing gales,

and has no ambition or remorse.

Though the heat tears you,

and the cold drains your vigour,

Dorotea walks with you always

and you find comfort in her eyes.

Knight, cursed to wander aimless,

like an albatross, the world,

cursed with disease and ailment,

and irresistably with death,

Enia shall meet you in her underworld,

and drench your wounds in tears,

tears which she has saved forever

in these years where she does not cry

and the grave's stare is grave and barren.

As she embraces you, now-unwatered flowers shall flourish

across the underworld for the first time.

Q. Why am I seen in Enia's Mirror?

Enia's diamond-like lake-mirror stretches

across the great valley around her throne

and she looks in it to see her beauty,

reflected in its lively waters, that drop

from earth's purest geysers untainted.

She sees there the beauty of death in life,

the beauty of your wounded, accursed body,

a mirror to death from the world of life.

And you shall one day see yourself in her eyes,

and fall into her hands like a sigh into silence.

That is why you are seen in her mirror.

Q. What is love?

It is a conjured pain

when the soul is born in strife,

and needs this hurt to feel

like itself.

It is the song of the emotions,

which bleed life's vividness away

until they can repose

in their home, the grave.

It is the marriage of your suffering

with death, where it belongs,

and it is the vigour of wretchedness

as it haunts the diseased sufferer,

envious that death shall take him

and end their lovely grotesque.

It is the hope of hearts long-dead,

and the answer that exults in ringing hollow.

Q. I sang to Dorotea once, and won her over, birthing my son Hysteria. How did I sing, according to the legends?

'The world has turned cold.

You will not know your hopes,

you will not dream;

just lie here with me,

and we will dream in death.

There forms nothing new here

to unparch us with new sensations

and even the sun is a fearsome lance

that hisses its flames at us,

so talk about nothing.

Let us go. We shall find what dreams,

what beautiful pallid dreams, you weave

when the night has enveloped

so deep that we cannot dream.

You'll find a home from home,

furnished with the hearth of my desire.

I know your heart will never stop,

it is the leaping light that guides us

like a star.'

The fire flared up, and the prayer was successful.

"Excellent, but all of these interrogations make me nervous," the guard said. "It is often better to try and find a god who can be reached in one prayer, because the longer an interrogation, the more time for it to be discounted pettily. But the Emati and Arkeet gods are like this, and it was worth trying. Now our 'Constitution' will be higher, and we will get stronger the more that we are attacked. But we can move on to other gods now."

In the meantime, Crucis noticed that Danemy had a new, triangular black dagger which had emerged from the sacred ash. As Danemy tested it out, it was clear that this blade was incredibly sharp, despite its simple, short, blocky appearance.

The villagers had already begun a new dance, now all in one, disorganised ring around the fire. They began to shriek loudly, but in an almost colloquial, understated rhythm.

"What's this new chant?" DicingDevil asked the guard casually. "By the way, this ritual is impressive. I think we have some idea of how it works, is there any way that we could help out?"

"Hm. You could, in fact, and you may also get some rewards. But it is unsafe for you to come near the fire. There is something else. We mostly live in this area, but some gods are based on things you might know more. We would like to try challenging these gods. You could etch a chant on a stone like this, to guide us."

He picked up a red, cuboid stone, that looked like a less decorated version of the ones which Crucis had taken for lag purposes.

Holding out the stone, the guard said, "You may all write one or two lines on paper, if you have it, and I will try to translate them onto this stone. If you do well, then it will help us, by showing the way, also kindling the fire further. And you will also get some benefits if the prayer succeeds."

"Alright," DicingDevil said. "We can start with the next god. But which god is the current chant for? It's very calm."

"It is for a goddess of the Mikan people, they are a strange people. Both lewd and prosaic, always excited but also in drudgery. This is to Ilmajes, their goddess of 'hope in despair.'"

I saw you in the storm,

we were walking in the smog that grows beneath heavy rain,

black air that pools like black blood

as if earth failed to breathe in smothering rain's fabric,

I saw an angel,

and your light bleached the clouds white,

until the rain seemed snowflakes cut from crystal;

your small hand was a bursting sun

on the earth.

There is no solace for the damned

except to dissolve

in your fingers' touch.

Ilmajes, our morning star!

Your grace is all that's left of us!

As the prayer was accepted, a faint drizzle began to pour from the clouds.

A few of the villagers climbed up a hut and precautiously grabbed hold of a large, wooden platform leaning against it, preparing to build a temporary shelter from rain to protect the fire if necessary. But in seconds the drizzle had abated.

Starfighter's sacred ash had flared up, leaving behind what looked like a sword with multiple long, silver blades. However, as he lifted it, it became clear that what had appeared to be the blades of a sword were actually long, bladed whips, and he whirled them lightly in the air to make sure. The silver whips spread fluidly through the air like waves of rain.

Crucis saw that the weapon was named [Urumi].

"That is a special weapon," the guard told Starfighter. "You must know at least basic whip skill to use it. But it is a weapon that is in constant motion, a very dangerous one for both the user and enemy. So you must become skilled to use it well. It leaves deep wounds and bleeding, flesh torn apart, and if against many opponents they will have many wounds even from one Urumi user. But not as lethal as dagger or sword, so we switch to those at the end of fight."

Starfighter tried to whirl the Urumi around and slash it forwards, as a test, but soon stopped after he accidentally cut a small wound on his arm with the whirring blades.

"I have some experience with whips, since I helped some Eastern villagers with quests involving herding animals," Starfighter mentioned. "But this thing is crazy. Its movement speed is way higher than anything else, it's going to hurt if it hits me by accident."

Although he spoke in a resigned tone, he began covertly increasing the level of his [Whip Handling] skill, not one to turn down a challenge like this. Further, the attacks of these long whips were almost akin to AoE, and would be very effective at grinding in the wild if he could figure them out.

"Let us show you," the guard said, smiling. He held out his hand, and Starfighter handed him the Urumi.

Another village guard picked up a grey Urumi of his own, which looked quite battered from years of use, and walked over for a makeshift duel.