Is My Main God Miyazaki Hidetaka?
Early the next morning, Lynn took the "Corrupted Great Rune Shard" wrapped in thick cloth and, accompanied by Eina, went to the appraisal department of the Adventurers' Guild.
They were received by an old dwarf with a monocle and a meticulously groomed beard. He took the bundle and opened it cautiously. When he saw the pitch-black, blood-veined Magic Stone, he adjusted his glasses, his brows knitting tightly together.
"Strange..." The old dwarf placed it on a specialized appraisal table, tapping it with various tools and carefully probing it with a mana sensor.
However, no matter what method he used, the stone remained utterly unresponsive. It didn't conduct mana, it didn't glow, and it was unimaginably hard. It was as if it were a piece of pure rock, thoroughly saturated by some form of evil.
"I can't identify it."
Half an hour later, the old dwarf wiped the sweat from his brow, removed his glasses, and spread his hands helplessly. "I swear by my grandfather's beard, this thing did not come from the Dungeon."
This result wasn't unexpected for Lynn.
Walking out of the appraisal room, Eina's face was even paler than the day before. She led Lynn to her empty office, closed the door, and took on an unprecedentedly serious expression.
"Lynn, the situation might be even more serious than we thought."
She pulled a document from a stack and handed it to him. "These are the reports of adventurer disappearances and anomalies received by the Guild over the past month."
Lynn took the document and scanned it quickly.
"Seventeen missing... All victims were Level 2 or above. Commonality... almost all were soloists or small two-person teams."
Eina's voice carried a slight tremor. "Do you understand what this means? Someone is specifically targeting adventurers who have a certain level of strength but lack the protection of a large team. The person you encountered last night was likely one of the perpetrators."
She looked up, her blue eyes fixed on Lynn, her hands involuntarily clenched.
"You fit their target profile perfectly! Promise me, Lynn—absolutely, under no circumstances, go out alone lately! Especially at night! There's definitely more than one of them." Her tone was almost pleading.
Seeing the concern in her eyes, a wave of warmth passed through Lynn. He closed the file, his face wearing its usual relaxed smile. "Relax, Eina. I'm not that easy to take down. I promise, I'll be careful."
"I am not joking!" Eina raised her voice, a rare occurrence.
"Neither am I." Lynn's smile faded, his gaze turning serious. "I promise you."
Only after seeing his sincere expression did Eina relax slightly, though she remained deeply worried.
Emerging from the Guild, Lynn appeared calm on the surface, but a storm was brewing within. He knew perfectly well that he was the target. Or rather, he had likely been watched since the moment he stepped into this world. It wasn't a matter of avoiding trouble; trouble was coming for him regardless. Furthermore, it was highly likely those victims had been caught in the crossfire because of him.
Therefore, he had to resolve this.
He rubbed his fingers together; the sensation from the shard last night seemed to linger on his skin. It was a familiar feeling—a chaotic, searing madness that wanted to burn everything to ash.
"The Frenzied Flame..." he whispered to himself.
Though not identical, the core of that aura was from the same source as the power of the Lord of Frenzied Flame. Someone was using a power similar to the Frenzied Flame to create chaos in this world, and they were searching for... Great Runes.
"Interesting. You rats in the dark... it's time to drag you out."
He had made up his mind. The best defense was a proactive offense.
That evening, Lynn told Eina he wouldn't be home for dinner, using the excuse of checking for new goods at the shopping street. He left the house alone. He didn't head toward the bustling area where Patches set up his stall, but instead specifically chose secluded, dim alleys.
As night deepened, the glow of the Magic Stone lamps was stretched and fractured by the narrow lanes, casting vast shadows. The night breeze blew, swirling a few fallen leaves on the ground with a rustling sound that added to the desolation of the silent streets.
Lynn walked at a steady pace, his footsteps echoing in the empty alley. His senses, however, were pushed to their limit; every movement of the wind or grass around him was clearly mapped in his mind.
They're here.
A second before he turned into a dead-end alley, six distinct killing intents, mixed with violence and madness, locked onto him simultaneously from all directions!
Lynn didn't stop, entering the depths of the alley as if he hadn't noticed a thing. The next second, six dark shadows lunged from the rooftops and the shadowy corners ahead, their weapons glinting with a bloodthirsty chill in the dim light.
Two greataxes, three longswords, and a flail. Six frenzied attackers, each radiating energy no weaker than the bruiser from the previous night. They didn't roar; they simply stared at Lynn with muddy, bright yellow eyes. Their movements were coordinated, sealing off all his exits.
It was a meticulously designed ambush.
"The Frenzied Flame... you must be the Great Rune Predators," Lynn chuckled. Instead of retreating, he lunged forward, meeting the two axemen head-on.
Their attributes felt higher than Lynn's, but they acted purely on instinct. Seeing Lynn approach, they mechanically swung their massive axes. Just as the blades were about to descend, Lynn's figure turned into a blur.
Bloodhound's Step!
He instantly appeared outside the encirclement, his left hand already gripping the seemingly ordinary Glintstone Staff.
"Glintstone Pebble!"
A pale blue light condensed at the tip of the staff, and a jagged pebble whistled through the air, accurately striking one of the swordsmen in the knee.
Bang!
The attacker stumbled, his charge interrupted. Lynn's wrist didn't stop; Glintstone Pebbles shot out like a barrage of bullets, each one accurately hitting the joints or weapons of the different enemies, effectively stalling their assault.
The predators clearly lacked experience dealing with sorcerers, thrown into confusion by this sudden ranged attack. One of the axemen roared, charging Lynn recklessly with his massive axe raised high, tearing through the air with a piercing gale.
"Perfect timing!"
Lynn didn't dodge. He stowed the staff and replaced it with the Carian Knight's Shield, its elegant patterns gleaming. With a deafening boom, the greataxe slammed into the shield face, erupting in a shower of sparks.
Lynn's body sank slightly, and the stone slabs beneath his feet cracked, but he stood his ground against the thunderous blow, not backing down an inch! The axeman seemed unable to comprehend it; the massive recoil numbed his arm, leaving him in a momentary state of shock.
Now!
The Bloodhound's Fang in Lynn's right hand, already poised to strike, became a crimson flash. It swept upward in a tricky, lethal arc.
Sshhh!
The sharp blade easily sliced through leather armor and throat. The first man was dead.
Simultaneously, the other five attackers closed in from different directions. Without looking at the falling corpse, Lynn shoved his shield forward, knocking back another axeman, while chanting rapidly.
"Carian Phalanx!"
Four crystalline magic blades formed above his head. Following his intent, they shot out like swift falcons toward the two swordsmen at his flank.
Thud! Thud!
The powerful impact of the magic blades stalled the two men. Seizing the opening, Lynn activated Bloodhound's Step again, his body leaving a trail of afterimages in the narrow alley as he easily evaded the swing of the flail.
He was like a ghost dancing on the edge of a blade—every dodge and every strike was as precise as a textbook entry. The ranged harassment of the Glintstone Pebbles, the solid block of the Carian Knight's Shield, the phantom movements of Bloodhound's Step, and the lethal strikes of the Bloodhound's Fang...
Magic and melee merged perfectly in his hands into a highly efficient and beautiful art of slaughter.
In less than thirty seconds, the battle neared its end. Five headless corpses turned to ash, leaving only the last swordsman. Lynn didn't deliver the killing blow immediately. He noticed that this man's state of frenzy seemed slightly lighter than the others. He approached step by step, the tip of the Bloodhound's Fang scraping lightly against the ground.
The attacker looked at Lynn. Within those blood-red eyes, a flicker of struggle and pain actually passed. The violent aura on his body was receding at a visible rate. Unintelligible syllables emerged from his throat, and the hand holding his sword trembled violently.
"Who sent you?" Lynn asked coldly.
A sliver of clarity returned to the man's eyes. He looked at Lynn, then at his own blood-stained hands, his face contorting with extreme terror and regret.
"The... they... are looking... for..." He used the last of his strength, his voice raspy and broken. "The Great Rune..."
"Dungeon... Floor Two... North District..."
As the words left him, the light in his eyes vanished completely. His body could no longer support itself; it collapsed and rapidly turned into a pile of ash. Another pitch-black Magic Stone fell to the ground.
Lynn stood where he was, surrounded by six shards radiating an ominous aura. He leaned down and picked them up one by one, wrapping them in cloth.
"Floor Two, North District, huh..."
Lynn looked up toward Babel, his gaze cold.
The night breeze blew, swirling the last bit of ash from the battle into Orario's boundless night sky. Lynn weighed the heavy bundle in his hand—seven corrupted shards, each representing a fallen adventurer. He didn't go home immediately; instead, he took a circuitous route to ensure he wasn't followed before returning to Eina's residence.
"You're back! How was the shopping?"
Eina, wearing her apron, was bringing out a plate of steaming roasted fish. Seeing him enter, the worry on her face finally ebbed a little.
"It was fine. Nothing I particularly wanted to buy." Lynn responded casually, hiding the bundle in his room before sitting at the dining table as if nothing had happened. "Smells great. What's the occasion?"
"Just a normal dinner." Eina removed her apron and sat opposite him, her blue eyes still scanning him uneasily. "Really... no danger?"
"None at all. I'm a very good listener," Lynn smiled as he picked up his cutlery.
The night passed without further incident. Early the next morning, Lynn woke up at dawn. He didn't wake Eina, instead leaving a note saying "Going to the Dungeon to earn some pocket change" before departing alone.
To the current Orario, the second floor of the Dungeon was practically a back garden for beginners. Low-level adventurers were hunting goblins and killer ants in small groups, and the atmosphere was almost lighthearted. Lynn avoided the crowds, heading straight for the North District.
The terrain in the North District was more complex than other areas, consisting mostly of jagged rocks and narrow passages. He began a grid search based on the information provided by the dying man. His movements were light, his senses spread out like radar, not missing a single suspicious corner.
"Artificial excavation marks... this part is too new." "There's unnatural wear on this corner; people pass through here often."
Half an hour later, he stopped before a ruin that appeared to be a natural collapse. A pile of massive fallen rocks blocked half a cave entrance, leaving only small gaps. It looked unremarkable; some adventurers might even use it as a temporary resting spot.
But Lynn's eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. The way these rocks were piled was too deliberate. They appeared messy but cleverly formed a stable structure that could camouflage the entrance while keeping the inner passage clear. More importantly, from the gaps in the rocks, he caught a faint scent that he knew all too well.
It was the unique, searing smell of char and madness associated with the Frenzied Flame.
Found it.
He didn't act rashly. Instead, he circled to a high vantage point like a patient leopard, observing silently.
Sure enough, it wasn't long before two men in adventurer leather armor, their eyes vacant, crawled out from a hidden gap in the ruins. They stiffly patrolled the area, and once they confirmed no one was around, they retreated inside.
Lynn memorized the terrain and withdrew silently. Now wasn't the time to alert them; he needed more intel and a better opportunity.
However, just as he prepared to leave the North District, a powerful sense of crisis surged from behind! Lynn instinctively performed a forward roll, evading three poisoned short bolts shot from the shadows. As soon as he stood up, eight figures surrounded him. The same muddy yellow eyes, the same fearless aura of madness.
But this time, it was different.
Outside the circle, a person wearing a black robe and a pale, bone-white mask stood quietly. He radiated no violent aura; he was as cold as ice.
"Tarnished, we have been waiting for you for a long time."
A raspy, clear voice came from beneath the mask. Lynn's pupils shrank. This person could speak normally; he wasn't frenzied! He was a commander!
"Encircle him," the Bone-Masked Man commanded simply.
The eight infected moved instantly. They didn't lunge all at once like the group last night. Instead, they moved in pairs, covering each other as they advanced, their weapons sealing off any space Lynn might use to maneuver with Bloodhound's Step.
This is a problem.
Lynn cursed inwardly. Dealing with a pack of rabid dogs was one thing, but dealing with a pack of rabid dogs led by a hunter was an entirely different level of difficulty.
"Since when did the Frenzied Flame lunatics get a Commander class?" Lynn teased.
Clang!
He used the Carian Knight's Shield to parry a descending longsword, but his wrist hummed from the vibration. The strength of these infected seemed even greater than those from the previous night.
"Left flank, suppress," the Commander ordered.
The two infected on the left immediately abandoned direct attacks, instead using a suicidal style, madly battering Lynn's shield with total disregard for their own defenses. Their goal was clear: pin Lynn down to create an opening for their companions on the right!
Lynn understood their intent instantly. He shoved forward with his shield, using the momentum to retreat half a step. The Glintstone Staff instantly appeared in his right hand as he chanted rapidly.
"Carian Phalanx!"
Four magic blades hovered above his head, but he didn't fire them immediately.
"Thrust," the Bone-Masked Man commanded coldly.
A swordsman on the right seized the opening of Lynn's retreat, his sword striking out like a viper in a straight line toward Lynn's heart!
Now!
Lynn didn't dodge. The Phalanx triggered, but not toward the lunging swordsman—instead, they shot toward the two infected preparing to flank him from behind!
Thud! Thud!
The blades struck true, causing the two men to stagger. Simultaneously, Lynn twisted his body to the limit, narrowly avoiding a lethal blow to the heart and allowing the longsword to slice across his armguards, leaving a bloody trail.
Pain flared, but he didn't even flinch. He had traded an injury for a fleeting opportunity!
Bloodhound's Step!
His figure vanished and reappeared behind the lunging swordsman. The Bloodhound's Fang swept upward in a beautiful, crimson arc.
Sshhh!
A head flew into the air.
The Bone-Masked Man seemed utterly indifferent to the death of his subordinate, commenting coldly, "Contract, crush him."
The remaining seven infected acted like machines following a script, instantly changing formation to charge from all directions simultaneously. In the narrow space, the flash of blades became a dense, impenetrable net.
Lynn took a deep breath, his focus absolute. No way to dodge! Then... fight!
He stopped trying to create distance, immersing himself entirely in the rhythm of combat. He swayed to let an axe edge pass. He ducked to avoid a sword tip. He bashed with his shield to deflect a flail. Every movement was minimized to the extreme, every dodge timed perfectly. He was like a leaf drifting through a storm—seemingly in grave peril, yet always finding a sliver of life at the critical moment.
The Bloodhound's Fang became a lethal fang in his hands. Every strike took the life of an infected.
The battle reached a fever pitch in an incredibly short time. By the time the fifth infected fell, Lynn had several wounds, and his breathing was heavy.
The Bone-Masked Man finally moved. He didn't charge; instead, he pulled a fist-sized black crystal from his robe and held it high.
"Burn it all!"
A heart-stopping burst of violent energy erupted from the crystal. The remaining three infected shuddered; their yellow eyes turned a piercing scarlet, and their muscles swelled visibly. Red light, like flowing lava, shimmered beneath their skin.
"Roar!"
They let out inhuman bellows, their speed and strength multiplying as they lunged at Lynn once more!
"Damn it!" Lynn cursed and activated the Bloodhound's Fang's weapon skill without hesitation.
A crimson flash of light passed as he became a phantom, crossing paths with the foremost infected. The man's charge stopped instantly; the next second, his body split neatly down the middle and turned to ash.
But the other two were already upon him. Lynn forced his body to twist, taking a heavy blow from one of them on his shield. The massive force sent him flying, slamming him into the rock wall.
Puff!
He spat a mouthful of blood, his internal organs feeling as though they had shifted.
"It is over," the Commander said, looking at the fallen Lynn with an emotionless tone. The last two attackers raised their weapons, aiming for Lynn's head.
However, at that moment, three lithe gray shadows suddenly lunged from the darkness behind Lynn, striking the two attackers with lightning speed!
Three Wolf Ashes!
"Awooo!"
The howling echoed through the Dungeon. The two attackers were caught off guard, their arms and necks bitten by the fierce wolves, throwing their rhythm into chaos.
"This is..." The Bone-Masked Man showed surprise for the first time.
Propped up by the Bloodhound's Fang, Lynn stood up unsteadily, wiped the blood from his mouth, and grinned. "Sorry, but... I'm really good at calling for backup."
He took a sharp step forward, his figure vanishing again.
Bloodhound's Step!
This time, the target was the Bone-Masked Man standing at the back! The Commander reacted quickly, retreating while commanding, "Stop him!"
But it was too late. Lynn's speed was absolute, closing the distance in an instant.
Clang!
The Bloodhound's Fang collided with the short blade the Commander had drawn in a rush, sending out sparks.
"You talk too much."
Lynn's gaze was cold. He flicked his wrist, the Fang tracing a bizarre curve to bypass the block.
Squelch!
The tip of the blade pierced accurately into the Commander's heart. The man froze, looking down at the hilt in his chest with disbelief.
"The God... will... avenge..."
He couldn't finish his sentence. With his last bit of strength, he raised his left hand and crushed a small black crystal hanging from his neck.
BOOM!
A localized explosion of Frenzied Flame energy erupted. Lynn's pupils shrank, and he pulled his blade back to retreat, but the aftershock still sent him flying.
When he scrambled up again, the Bone-Masked Man's body had turned to scorched ash; nothing remained. The two attackers pinned by the wolves lost their strength with the Commander's death and crumbled to ash as well.
Silence returned to the alley.
Lynn, gasping for air, walked to the spot where the Commander had self-destructed and inspected it carefully. No clues remained.
No, wait. His gaze froze on an inconspicuous mark in the ash. It was a handprint left by the Commander's left hand as he pressed against the ground while crushing the crystal.
On that handprint, at the tips of the index, middle, and ring fingers, there were three clear, scorched black marks.
Lynn stared at the three marks, a name emerging from the depths of his memory.
"The Three Fingers..."
Lynn's breathing hitched for a moment. Those three scorched marks, branded deep into the rock dust like three candles of unholy fire, drew all his thoughts in.
There was no mistake. He knew this mark better than anyone. After he chose to become the Lord of Frenzied Flame, behind that heavy door, the source of the power he had seen and felt... was this.
"The Three Fingers..." he whispered the word, a chill racing from his spine to his skull.
You have to be kidding me.
How could that thing be in Orario? Could it be that the avatar of the Will of Chaos had extended its tentacles to this world? An absurd yet lethal thought exploded in his mind. He ripped open his leather armor, looking down at his body.
His skin was clear—no scorched marks, no familiar burning pain of a soul being incinerated.
Thank god... I didn't bring that with me when I crossed over.
Even so, a powerful sense of unease coiled around his heart like vines. He had once accepted the brand of the Frenzied Flame; his soul had once been one with that chaos. If the Three Fingers were truly here, would they... be able to sense him?
He quite liked the current Orario; he didn't want to see it burned.
"Tsk, what a mess."
Lynn scratched his hair in frustration. If it really was the Three Fingers, he likely couldn't solve it with his current strength. He needed more clues.
He didn't hesitate, walking over to the cave entrance camouflaged by fallen rocks. Since the enemy's nest was right here, it would be a waste not to scavenge. Besides, if he didn't go in now, who knew if they would return to move their base?
He gripped the edge of a massive rock, his muscles bulging as he wrenched it from the pile and tossed it aside. Soon, a pitch-black entrance wide enough for one person was exposed. A stench of char and madness, several times stronger than before, hit him.
Lynn frowned. He didn't light a lamp, relying instead on his Tarnished vision—already accustomed to the dark—to slip inside. The passage was short and winding, eventually opening into a hollowed-out cavern about the size of half a basketball court.
Rather than a base, it looked like a crude sacrificial site. In the center of the cave stood a statue roughly carved from Dungeon stone.
It was a mangled hand, consisting only of a thumb, a ring finger, and a pinky finger.
Beneath the statue was a bizarre array drawn in blood and ash. At the center of the array lay pieces of dried organs, radiating a sickening stench.
"A group with terrible taste," Lynn curled his lip, his gaze sweeping the cave. It was empty, save for scattered bedding and food scraps, proving people had lived here recently. His eyes finally landed at the foot of the statue.
There, something seemed to have been hurriedly stuffed into a crack in the rock, revealing only a scorched corner of hard leather. Lynn stepped forward and pulled it out.
It was a diary. The cover had been carbonized and crumbled at a touch. Most of the pages inside were incomplete, the handwriting frantic and mad, as if the writer had been in a state of mental instability while recording.
Lynn carefully opened it.
[Page 1] "...Praise the Great Three Fingers! Praise the Flame of Chaos! It shall burn away all distinctions, returning life to One!"
[Page 5] "The Apostle says this world is a lie, a cage distorted by the dregs of the Greater Will. Only by embracing the Frenzied Flame can one obtain true liberation. We are the 'Remnants of the Three Fingers,' the kindling of truth."
[Page 12] "Failed again... these adventurers are too weak. Their souls cannot bear the blessing of the Flame; they only become mindless dogs. The Apostle needs a stronger vessel... a purer soul..."
Lynn's brow furrowed deeper. "Remnants of the Three Fingers"? "Apostle of Frenzied Flame"? These people had already developed into an organized cult with a manifesto. He continued flipping.
[Page 23] "The collection plan is proceeding smoothly. Those so-called 'Great Rune Shards,' though merely degraded imitations of this world's rules, contain energy from the same source as our goal. The Apostle says that once enough shards are collected, they can be used as a beacon to build an altar and awaken the 'True Three Fingers' slumbering in the gaps of this world!"
Lynn's heart sank. As expected, their goal was the Great Runes. And from the sounds of it, the Three Fingers' true body wasn't in this world, but needed to be "summoned" through a ritual? At least the body wasn't here yet; that was good news.
He turned to the last few pages. The handwriting grew even more chaotic, the ink nearly bleeding through the paper.
[Page 35] "The Apostle has commanded us to accelerate, because... because a perfect 'vessel' has appeared! A perfect prey!"
Lynn held his breath. He had a premonition that the next part would be directly related to him. He turned to the final page, which held only a single line of text, written with enough force to pierce the paper, full of fanaticism and greed.
"The Apostle says the prey carrying multiple Great Rune shards, and who can perfectly master their power, has appeared..."
Snap.
Lynn closed the diary. The cave was silent, save for his own clear heartbeat.
"I see. From the beginning, I was the target." He whispered to himself, yet no panic appeared on his face. Instead, a cold smile emerged.
Prey? In the Lands Between, whether it was Morgott, Radahn, or Malenia, they had all seen him as prey. Ultimately, their Runes became the experience points on his path to leveling up.
"Apostle of Frenzied Flame... Three Fingers... Good. Saves me the trouble of looking for you one by one." He tucked the tattered diary into his coat, gave the ugly statue one last look, and left the cave without looking back.
When he emerged from the rocks back into the familiar, mana-scented passages of the Dungeon, his tense nerves finally relaxed a little. Two consecutive high-intensity battles, combined with the mental shock, had left him feeling fatigued. His wounds weren't lethal, but the stinging pain was clear. This area was too shallow for a Site of Grace to restore his status. The nearest one was on the tenth floor; he'd have to go all the way back just to warp.
I'll head back to the surface to treat these wounds and... think about how to wipe these rats out in one go.
He oriented himself and headed toward the surface exit. Just as he turned a corner to leave the North District area, a slender figure appeared before him without warning.
It was a girl with dazzling blonde hair and golden eyes, wearing silver-white light armor with a beautifully shaped rapier at her waist. Her expression was as calm and indifferent as ever, like an exquisite doll that wouldn't be moved by anything.
Ais.
Lynn's footsteps stopped instinctively. Ais clearly hadn't expected to see him here either; her golden eyes widened for a fraction of a second before returning to their calm state. She stood there silently, her gaze moving from Lynn's face slowly downward to his damaged armguards and the fresh blood on them.
The atmosphere in the passage grew still.
"You are injured," Ais spoke, her voice cold and devoid of emotion, as if stating a simple fact.
"Oh, this?" Lynn raised his arm, his usual relaxed smile on his face. "Just a small nibble from an enthusiastic goblin earlier. No big deal."
Ais didn't speak, simply staring at him. Those golden eyes clearly reflected the slightly stiff corner of his mouth as he lied. She took a step forward. Lynn could even catch the faint, pleasant scent coming from her, mixed with the typical dust of the Dungeon.
"No," Ais spoke again, her tone certain. "The scent on you... is not goblin. There is blood, and... the scent of something burnt."
The smile on Lynn's face faded. He had forgotten—this girl was one of Orario's top adventurers. Her senses were far more acute than an average person's. The trace of Frenzied Flame on him, no matter how faint, couldn't hide from her nose.
"Alright, you caught me," Lynn spread his hands helplessly. "I ran into a group of unfriendly guys and had to move my muscles a bit."
"Were they strong?" Ais pressed, a flicker of curiosity passing through her golden eyes. Based on her knowledge of Lynn, this man didn't care who his opponent was, only if the fight was interesting. If he was injured, it meant the opponent was anything but simple.
"Whether they were strong is one thing, but they were definitely crazy," Lynn shrugged, not wanting to dwell on the topic. "And you? Is the Sword Princess taking a stroll in the rookie zone?"
Ais shook her head, her expression seeming... lost? "I just... wanted to find a feeling," she said softly. "Lately, I feel as if my sword has grown dull."
I guess that's a problem for top-tier elites—a plateau phase, Lynn thought.
"Did you find it?" he asked.
Ais shook her head again, but her gaze fell on the Bloodhound's Fang at Lynn's waist, a hint of expectation in her eyes. "Perhaps... if I fought you, I could find it."
"Give me a break. I'm an injured man right now," Lynn waved his hands. "Besides, if we fight, I can't guarantee your priceless sword won't turn into a repair bill again."
At the mention of "repair bill," Ais's expression stiffened visibly, as if remembering some unpleasant memories. Seeing her rare moment of embarrassment, Lynn couldn't help but laugh.
"Alright, I'm heading back to the surface. You?"
"...Together," Ais said after a short silence.
Emerging from Babel, the noon sun was a bit blinding. Ais didn't ask further about his injuries, and Lynn stopped joking. Yet a strange unspoken understanding flowed between them. Lynn instinctively squinted, while Ais silently pulled a small green bottle from her pouch and handed it to him.
"Healing potion," she said succinctly.
Lynn was stunned for a moment, then took it. The bottle was cold, and the emerald liquid inside shimmered in the sunlight—clearly a high-grade item.
"Thanks. The Sword Princess really is as kind as she is beautiful." He uncorked it and downed the liquid. A cool warmth flooded his body, and a tingly itch came from his wounds as they healed at a visible rate.
Ais watched his bold movements and gave a soft "Mm," her eyes turning to the distance as if lost in thought.
"I'm heading back now; I have things to handle," Lynn shook the empty bottle and tossed it back to her. "See you in the Dungeon. Hopefully your sword is sharp enough by then."
Ais caught the bottle steadily and nodded without further words.
They parted ways in front of Babel's plaza—one toward the prosperous West District, the other toward the street leading to the Northeast. Lynn guessed Eina was still busy at the Guild, which saved him the trouble of inventing an excuse. He threw himself onto his soft bed and let out a long breath.
Eina's house was empty. Physical fatigue vanished under the potion's effect, but the mental tension didn't decrease. He pulled the charred diary from his coat and opened it once more.
Remnants of the Three Fingers, Apostle of Frenzied Flame, vessel, awaken the True Three Fingers...
The mad words circled in his brain. He was now 100% certain these lunatics were after him. Waiting passively would only lead to them wearing him down with endless schemes until they found a weakness. The alley fight was a probe; the ambush in the Dungeon was the real deal. Who knew what the next one would be?
"I can't wait."
Lynn sat up, his gaze sharp. The best defense was offense—a lesson he had learned in the Lands Between. He carefully recalled the chaotic phrases in the diary, trying to piece together useful clues. Besides the temporary base on the second floor, the author mentioned a place several times—the "Sanctuary of Flame's Baptism." Combining Orario's map with the mad descriptions of a "ruined spire" and "whispers of the dead," he locked onto a single target.
The East District—an ancient church that had been abandoned for decades for unknown reasons. It was said to be haunted, was later occupied by a minor cult, and after being wiped out by adventurers, it became a forgotten ruin. Such a place was a perfect natural nest for cultists.
Since he had decided, he would act. However, before departing, he had one more thing to do. He needed more precise intel. Regarding the Frenzied Flame and the Three Fingers, these were too far removed for the residents of Orario, but for him, there was one supreme "expert" he could consult.
Night fell silently, the crescent moon plating Orario's roofs in a cool silver glow. Lynn silently went to the small attic of Eina's house, pushed open the window, and nimbly climbed onto the roof. The night breeze brushed his hair, bringing the city's unique mix of clamor and tranquility. He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and sank his mind into the depths of his soul. There lay a connection to another being that no power could erase.
"Ranni."
He whispered the name.
The air before him began to ripple like a stone thrown into a calm lake. Pale blue light dots emerged, converging and weaving into a petite, elegant figure. Four arms, pale skin, a mysterious mark beneath a closed right eye, and that magnificent, elegant witch's robe. Her bright eyes blinked, scanning the alien city beneath her before resting on Lynn.
"My King, it has been some time. It seems you have run into no small amount of trouble." Her voice was ethereal and pleasant, carrying a hint of... teasing?
"It hasn't been that long, Ranni," Lynn opened his eyes and grinned, greeting her with familiarity. "I can't help it; trouble loves to find me. This time it's an old acquaintance, so I wanted to ask you."
"Oh?" Ranni tilted her head slightly, her four arms elegantly folded. "Do tell."
"The Frenzied Flame and the Three Fingers," Lynn stopped smiling, recounting the day's events succinctly. "Their power seems to have seeped into this world."
At those words, the light around Ranni seemed to dim for a moment. She was silent, her exquisite face showing a solemn expression for the first time.
"The power of the Frenzied Flame originates from a primal chaos," she spoke slowly, her voice dropping. "What it seeks is to burn away all distinctions, to melt all life, and return all things to a chaotic One. It is the exact opposite of my Dark Moon."
Ranni raised a hand, a small, cold, glowing Dark Moon appearing in her palm. "My law is to guide the stars, to grant the world cold wisdom and the freedom of solitude. The Frenzied Flame seeks to strip all that away. It is the end of all order, an absolute void."
Lynn nodded; he understood this. His final choice in the Lands Between had been to become the Lord of Frenzied Flame to end that era of suffering. But he hadn't expected this power to haunt him all the way to this world.
"These guys calling themselves 'Remnants of the Three Fingers' want to hold a ritual here to awaken the 'True Three Fingers,'" Lynn added. "Sounds like some kind of summoning ritual."
"Then it makes sense," Ranni said thoughtfully. "The will of the Three Fingers is everywhere, but its body is imprisoned within the gaps of the laws. To descend, it needs a beacon and a sufficiently powerful vessel. The 'Great Rune shards' they speak of are likely materials for the beacon, and you..." She looked at Lynn with a complex gaze. "...having once carried the brand of the Frenzied Flame, you are the perfect vessel in their eyes."
"I knew it," Lynn scratched his hair in frustration. "So, is there a way to solve this once and for all?"
Ranni shook her head. "I cannot directly interfere in this world. Furthermore, the Frenzied Flame is a manifestation of a concept; it cannot be truly killed. All you can do is destroy its followers, raze its altars, and thoroughly uproot its foundation in this world."
"Fine, got it. It boils down to me doing it myself." Lynn stood up and brushed off the dust, his face returning to its relaxed state. "Thanks, you've been a big help."
He prepared to head to the East District church.
"Wait," Ranni called out.
Lynn turned back to see the blue spirit floating half an inch closer to him. "Take care, my King."
The Snow Witch gazed at him, her eyes—usually distant and wise—showing a rare flicker of genuine concern. "The madness of the Frenzied Flame is something even gods refuse to look upon. Do not let it erode your soul again."
With that, her figure turned into countless light dots, slowly dissolving into the night breeze, leaving only a soft whisper.
"...I will wait for you to return."
Lynn stood on the roof, stunned for a moment, then laughed out loud.
"I know, I know."
He turned and, without further hesitation, vanished across the staggered rooftops like a lithe cat, racing toward the East District.
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