Temple of the Demon Lord of Wishes-Chapter 59: Premium Mead

Ivaim glanced at the glowing notification in front of him, reading it carefully as he wiped his flour-dusted hands on his apron.

[You have gained a Believer +1]

[A Believer that is not a Walker has been gained]

[You have unlocked : Blessing]

[Blessing]

Using your given Authority, you can influence traits in your believers accordingly.

He frowned slightly, his excitement dampened.

’So it’s not really a skill—more like a perk of being a Reality Master,’ he thought, his disappointment evident.

Another notification popped up, breaking his train of thought:

[Check list of believers?]

’Yes,’ he answered silently. Immediately, a single name appeared before him:

[1. Jerrick Lounter (Shallow)]

’Shallow, huh?’ Ivaim mused, rubbing his chin.

’That must mean his belief in me is at the bare minimum—a low form of reverence, if you could even call it that.’

As he mulled over the new information, another idea surfaced.

’So that’s why Orthodox Reality Masters often set up temples. It’s not just about appearances—it’s a way to deepen their believers’ faith and keep them loyal.’ He frowned at the realization.

Then a more personal thought struck him, and his grin widened.

’This has Williams written all over it.’

Typically, when Ivaim activated [Coin of Fortune], a coin imbued with a decent amount of luck would manifest directly in his hand, ready for use.

However, when granting the skill to Williams, he’d made some adjustments.

He had modified the ability so that Williams could only summon a coin by actively and religiously spreading Ivaim’s Reality Master title—"The Spirit with Good Luck"—to others.

The coin would appear immediately after Williams fulfilled that condition, but the luck it contained would accumulate gradually, growing stronger over time.

’More efficient this way,’ Ivaim thought with satisfaction.

’Every coin becomes an anchor for faith, every word he spreads draws in more believers. A two-for-one deal.’

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He shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping him.

"That kid’s a natural at this. If only he knew I tweaked his little scheme to work in my favor."

Returning to his work, Ivaim kneaded the dough with a steady rhythm, his thoughts still lingering on the possibilities.

’One shallow believer now. But give it time. With Williams out there spinning tales, this network of faith might grow faster than I expected.’

Just as Ivaim finished his thought, he heard the familiar voice of Grandma Neli calling out from the front of the bakery.

"Ivaim, dear, could you watch the bakery for a while?" she asked, her tone as warm as freshly baked bread. "I need to go pick up more flour and sugar. We’re running low again."

Ivaim wiped his hands on his apron and stepped into the storefront, frowning slightly.

"Hm? Grandma, why don’t you let me handle it instead? You shouldn’t be running around at your age, especially lugging around heavy sacks of flour and sugar. It’s not good for your back."

Grandma Neli waved him off with a chuckle, her wrinkled face lighting up with amusement.

"Oh, don’t you start fussing over me now, boy. I’ve been doing this for years, and I’m not about to stop just because these old bones creak a little."

"That’s exactly why you should stop," Ivaim replied, crossing his arms and giving her a pointed look. "I don’t mind handling it. Besides, I need to stretch my legs a bit anyway."

She raised an eyebrow, her hands settling on her hips.

"And who’s going to keep the bakery running while you’re out gallivanting, hmm? The bread won’t knead itself, you know."

Ivaim smiled playfully. "Come on, I can handle both. I’ll knead the dough first, get it proofing, and then head out. It’s a short trip to the supplier, right? I’ll be back before anything burns."

Grandma Neli looked at him thoughtfully, then sighed. "You really don’t take no for an answer, do you?"

"Nope," he said, grinning. "And if you try sneaking out while I’m busy, I’ll lock the door behind you. Alright?"

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Fine, fine. But don’t take too long. We’ve got orders to fill."

Ivaim gave her a reassuring nod, already untying his apron.

"You’ve got it. Just keep an eye on the ovens until I get back."

As he grabbed a small pouch of coins and prepared to leave, he glanced back at Grandma Neli, her frame still sturdy but undeniably frail under the weight of years.

...

After gathering the necessities for the bakery—sacks of flour, bags of sugar, and a small jar of vanilla extract—Ivaim headed toward the shop counter, his arms laden with goods.

The aroma of freshly cut wood from the shelves mixed with the faint scent of spices wafting from nearby displays.

However, as he approached the counter, his expression darkened.

A broad-shouldered man stood there, his fur-lined cloak draped haphazardly over his bulky frame. The edges of the cloak were frayed, as if from countless battles with the wilderness, and a massive, gleaming axe hung across his back, its polished blade catching the dim light. Continue your adventure with novelbuddy

His presence was as imposing as the weapon he carried, and his voice boomed across the shop.

"What do you mean you don’t have the premium mead? You call this a store?!" the man bellowed, slamming his large, calloused hand on the counter.

The shopkeeper, a wiry man with thinning hair and nervous eyes, flinched at the sound but managed a shaky smile.

"S-sir, we’re a general goods store," the shopkeeper stammered. "We don’t carry specialty items like mead. Perhaps the tavern might—"

"I don’t want the tavern’s swill!" the man roared, cutting him off. "I came here because I heard this place had everything!"

Ivaim sighed quietly, setting his items down on a nearby shelf.

’Great. Just what I needed—a walking temper tantrum with an axe.’

The man’s fur cloak shifted as he leaned over the counter, his hulking figure casting a shadow over the trembling shopkeeper.

"You’ve got one last chance," he growled, his voice dropping into a dangerous tone. "Find me that mead, or I’ll find a way to ’rearrange’ your inventory myself."

"Excuse me," Ivaim interjected, his voice calm but firm as he stepped closer. "Some of us are waiting to pay. If you’re done yelling at the poor man, maybe you could move aside?"

The muscular man turned slowly, his sharp green eyes narrowing as they settled on Ivaim.

"And who do you think you are?" he sneered, his hand twitching toward the hilt of his axe.

Ivaim raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Just someone trying to buy flour and sugar. But if you’re looking for a fight instead of mead, I’m sure the tavern has plenty of people who’d be happy to oblige."

A tense silence hung in the air as the two locked eyes, the shopkeeper glancing nervously between them. Ivaim’s expression remained steady, unflinching despite the man’s intimidating frame.

Finally, the man let out a derisive snort, pulling back from the counter.

"Hmph. Lucky I’m in a good mood," he muttered, turning toward the door. "This place isn’t worth my time anyway."

’I know I’m lucky, I activated my [Coin of Fortune] after all,’ Ivaim thought in amusement.

As the door slammed shut behind him, Ivaim let out a quiet breath and turned back to the shopkeeper.

"Sorry about that. Some people don’t know how to behave."

The shopkeeper nodded quickly, his face still pale.

"Thank you for stepping in. I—uh—hope he doesn’t come back."

Ivaim smiled faintly, placing his items on the counter.

"If he does, just make sure you’re stocked with mead next time."

The shopkeeper blinked, then let out a nervous laugh as he began ringing up the items.