"Have we all finished our books?"
Madame Jermaine spoke up as she placed a solid red book onto the table, the black ink scrawled across the cover in large print.
"The Romancer."
Having read the book while stabilizing her rampaging emotions, Eleanor had finished it nearly twice over, the plot eerily familiar to her.
The main heroine was a young girl taken from her farm up in the northern continent of the magic world of Ironion, her kidnappers attempting to sell her for profit.
Eventually, following the classic trope, she was saved by the male lead, whose swordsmanship, though unmatched, had yet to be tested.
Without much interaction between the two main characters, the heroine fell for the male lead at first sight, disregarding the backstory that the reader would later learn made her despise men.
Later on, they would fight against the demon king and bring peace to the world, with the book's ending focusing on their marriage and the eventual domestic life of the heroine.
The author is rather…
Eleanor felt a strong urge to express her thoughts aloud; however, with her oldest friend, Olivia, sitting beside her in a rather 'jumpy' mood, she decided against it.
After the first incident in which the two older women had been corrupted, Eleanor employed the aid of Lady Strixen to prevent any further issues, yet she still wondered why the girl beside her had never shown any symptoms.
Could it be because she wasn't around me longer than one book club session?
With the club only meeting once per month, it was hard to claim that one could be seriously infected in such a short period, though it was not impossible.
Keeping a close eye on her former best friend, she listened in on the conversation peacefully, putting in only the minimal effort needed for a sufficiently convincing expression of enthusiasm.
After an hour of discussion and countless rants about how classy the male lead was, Madame Hick and Madame Jermaine reluctantly declared the meeting's end, their group gradually dispersing.
Eleanor didn't move, remaining firmly seated as she stared silently at the new book in front of her, unsure if she would ever finish it.
As it was nearing the end of the year, the deadline for her return was fast approaching, if she wanted to even stand a chance at saving the boy known as Aaron Grimstall.
It won't be long now if he is to succeed…
Exhaling lightly, she pushed her chair away from the table, preparing to stand.
"Excuse me."
A familiar voice called out to her, causing her head to turn to the side.
The blonde-haired girl's brow instantly contorted at the sight of Olivia's red hair and burning eyes.
Eleanor didn't say anything at first, allowing her old friend to get to her point first.
"I-I know this is going to sound crazy, but…"
There was a short pause as she fumbled over her words.
"...do I know you?"
The hairs on the back of the intern-Angel's neck stood up, a chill going down her spine.
She remained frozen for a brief moment before eventually responding in her best casual tone.
"Of course… We've been in a book club for—"
The gray-eyed girl was cut off.
"No. I mean… From before this place… From before death."
Behind her gaze was a hint of recognition, one that was extremely faint, almost undetectable, yet ever present.
Eleanor straightened her posture, trying to avoid direct eye contact as she thought of an answer quickly.
Though as she did so, she began to realize something fundamentally wrong about her thinking—the choice she could make was far greater than she immediately realized.
With a sad smile, the priestess addressed her old friend once more.
"You must have the wrong person. We've never met before this realm."
Not daring to attempt using mana to erase any hiccups or obvious indicators of lies from her speech, she walked past the girl.
This time, she would be the one to leave her friend behind, all in hopes that the girl could spend the rest of her time unmarred by the disaster that had haunted her for years.
To prevent the memories of her brother from returning, to prevent her final moments from resurfacing.
In the end, it was a decision that she did not make lightly, but made nevertheless, considering the principles of Neutrality itself.
What one does not know cannot hurt them, but the truth—the truth can always find its mark and wedge its way deep enough to scar.
…
November 5th, 3125, one week passed within the time-altered Great Beyond, while two passed in the Dimension of Waves.
Eleanor once more sat at her desk; this time, however, fiddling with her quill and staring outside the window with a contorted expression.
Earlier that same morning, she was stirred awake by harsh pain that circulated her entire body, one that nearly drove her into a state of emotional collapse.
Due to the Emblem of Circe's extreme backlash that still ate away at her sanity, she was forced to reallocate her expanded emotions, choosing one specific target: the God Slayer.
However, for some odd reason, that hatred had been seemingly vanquished, as if the one it was meant for had disappeared.
Never had she felt the same way as in that moment, yet as she stared out the window and listened to her own thoughts, she could put together some theories.
Throughout the day, she had noticed two True Angels ascend into the castle, an abnormality for a place that rarely gets any visitors.
Next, Lady Strixen sat in her shadow, watching and waiting as if worried that something disastrous might occur.
Finally, the corruption in her chest had faded significantly, as if part of it had simply been erased.
Such developments could mean multiple things; however, she could narrow it down to a single possibility.
Something changed about the state of that Old Man…
Unbeknownst to her, far above in her homeland, Aaron Grimstall had recently won his first match against Raphael von Steinfeste, advancing to the final battle that would take place later that same week.
But the most substantial development at this time was unrelated to his exploits, rather, taking place at the deepest part of the sea in a prison constructed to hold deities.
The God Slayer, the patron of Grimstall and the one who had an unusual relationship with Eleanor Lynn, had been lulled into total isolation.
With Abyssal Convergence looming on the horizon and the arrival of a demigod soon coming to pass, his steward decided that it was fitting to force him into an absolute slumber that would keep him restrained until the disasters were dealt with.
Of course, the priestess would never come to know of the exact timeline of events that had befallen her deepest enemy in her homeland; however, she, in that moment, pieced together far more than even the man's direct disciple could.
And as she did so, she continued staring out into the gloomy street below, the regular runners and vendors on Droskyn St. still selling even well into the afternoon when a majority of consumers were at work.
This is getting quite boring… Miracle training can only take me so far without any faith, and until I return, the only faith I can muster is what Aaron and the Old Man have in me…
Shuddering at what that so-called faith they both might have in her could entail, she noticed a strange movement out of the corner of her eye.
There, cloaked behind a hood and rushing through the street, a familiar figure emerged holding a long black staff resembling a similar one that she had once seen in the hands of the Angelic Order's gatekeeper.
Is he also a gatekeeper?
The thought crossed her mind briefly before it occurred to her that there was no reason for a public worker to hide themselves so vigorously, and that whatever he was doing was most certainly not suited for the public eye.
Sighing and shaking her head, she decided that tomorrow, her next free day away from work, she would investigate the situation further.
She was not particularly rushed as the man didn't exude any obvious traits of a lunatic, nor did he seem to be dangerous in any way.
Well… Now there's only one thing left to do today.
She stood up from her chair, yawning as she did so.
I'll need to continue my research into Esmerelda and her connection to Strava.
…
Within the great walls of the castle in the realm of Infinium, Marcus Twynam sat at a table across from Norman Reed.
"Have you uncovered anything about what Ms. Lynn has asked?"
The brown-haired former chairman asked the recently deceased Sea King, who merely scoffed.
"What do you want me to say? Strava is a backwater fishing village that survives on exports. Without the fish market on Sea Fallen and Corvassa, they'd have long since been wiped out by the harsh coastal tri-riptide currents of the three seas' collisions. Not only are they poor overall, but there are even subclasses of slums that devolve all the way down to mound-dwellers who live in caves of dirt."
The man known simply as The Hunter sighed before continuing.
"Even in my reign, with all the aid I provided, they were only able to create a school and a small clinic. I heard rumors that the current King of Curses goes there for drinks, and even his weighty tips can only boost the alcohol production. Eleanor was already sparse enough with the details of what we were looking for, but on this island specifically, I would doubt it would be possible to even find anything interesting."
Twynam's own research also aligned with Norman's harsh review of Strava; however, after he finished his rant, Marcus began speaking without a second of pause.
"Yet you missed one of the most pivotal facts. The vast Holy Magic covering the island from above the cloud layer can interfere with descenders. There is something I learned from two deceased priests who were once on the island, and it helped clarify Ms. Lynn's goal to me. She wishes to uncover something related to the Angel Esmerelda, who disappeared earlier this year."
A look of shock crossed the former King's face as he processed the deductive capabilities of the man before him.
"No wonder Cauron took such a liking to you…"
Groaning inwardly, the purple-haired man added to the theory.
"If she is really looking for Esmerelda and that Angel was sent to Strava, then what we need to investigate are the death records of the islanders and the identity of the overridden victim whose body she took over. If we manage ot find them, then that will be by far the easiest…"
He faded off, noticing a grin tugging at the corners of the Association founder's lips.
"What is it?"
Not even allowing himself to continue his one-sided banter while the brown-haired man smiled at him, the King of Dreams asked him with narrowed eyes.
"Well, I was just going to say that there might be someone who knows every new arrival into the city with pinpoint accuracy, especially those blessed with extraordinary Holy Magic."
Norman's brow furrowed downward at Marcus's words.
"Such a person exists? Are they an Angel? Or do you mean Lord Death himself?"
Silently shaking his head, the commonly drunk man reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin that he proceeded to flip in the air.
"He goes by a simple name that both of us are quite familiar with."
Twynam paused, making direct eye contact with the man across from him.
"Nautilus."