"Unbelievable, the Council has actually compromised with a bunch of Magical Creatures."

"They are selling out the interests of the Merchant Alliance, selling out the interests of all of us!"

The surging crowd choked the central Gold Rush Street of Misty Bay Harbor, angry merchants and nobles waved their hats or canes in their hands, shouting loudly, their faces flushed with excitement, their voices merging into a cacophonous wave of sound, as if trying to tear apart the prosperous facade of this city.

In the trade capital of Misty Bay Harbor, protest gatherings like this were not uncommon. Merchants arguing over tolls, navigation rights, and even taking to the streets in demonstrations was part of the daily scenery of this city.

But this time, the scale and intensity of the protest far exceeded the norm. The fall of the Gold Lionheart Fortress, the payment of huge reparations to the Slime Kingdom, even allowing their Adventurers to enter the Merchant Alliance... this series of news instantly ignited the accumulated dissatisfaction and fear of the people.

And not far from Gold Rush Avenue, in a dark, narrow alleyway, a figure completely hidden under a wide, pitch-black mage's robe was leaning against a damp, mottled brick wall.

He silently watched the noisy, angry scene on the main street, like a calm spectator enjoying a play that had nothing to do with him.

It was unknown how long passed, until figures of guards and warriors began to appear from the direction of the main street, trying to disperse the crowd and restore order, that this black-robed figure finally stirred slightly.

He slowly took a few steps back, his figure seeming to merge into the shadow of the wall, quietly disappearing into the darkness of the alley, leaving the spot without leaving the slightest trace.

.....

Coral Lane, on the dilapidated street, the man's figure quietly appeared.

This narrow alley, located at the junction between the dock district and the old city district of Misty Bay Harbor, had once also experienced brief prosperity and was not as dilapidated as it was now.

During the early expansion of Misty Bay Harbor, this had been a gathering place for many small and medium-sized boat owners, fish merchants, and repairmen, the air perpetually filled with the smell of fish and cheap rum.

However, as the port area shifted to the more open southern shore, and the docks and warehouses of the large merchant guilds moved away, Coral Lane rapidly declined.

Now, many of the houses here were either vacant or half-collapsed, windows boarded up with planks, walls crawling with slippery moss and unknown vines.

Only the poorest dockworkers and homeless vagrants still frequented this place.

The man slowly made his way through the ruined street, ignoring the occasional glances directed his way.

Finally, he stopped in front of a three-story building that looked no different from the other abandoned houses, its porch completely sealed off with thick planks.

He took a few steps forward, his figure rippling like a reflection in water, and directly "passed through" the doorway nailed shut with planks, entering the interior of the building.

As that "barrier" between shadow and reality disappeared, the view of the dilapidated street outside was completely cut off.

The interior was not the imagined ruin, but a strange space shrouded in hazy darkness.

The air was dry, carrying a faint scent of incense and old parchment. The walls were inlaid with crystals emitting a cold, faint blue light, barely illuminating the rough stone floor beneath their feet.

Several figures, also draped in pitch-black mage robes and holding illuminating staves, walked past him in silence. Their faces under their hoods were indistinct in the light and shadow, their low murmurs to each other as vague as dreams, the scene like walking through a dream.

Most conspicuous was the identical holy emblem they wore on their chests—a "jawless Skull." This seemed to be their common identifier, a token used to recognize fellow believers in the darkness.

The black-robed man was accustomed to all this. He proceeded along the passage and soon arrived at an open campsite.

A bonfire burned, illuminating dozens of similarly white-robed figures standing or sitting around it. Most of them had their hands crossed over their chests, their postures reverent and solemn.

The man walked to the front of the bonfire, stopping a few steps away from the flames. Like the others, he crossed his hands over his chest, respectfully bowed his head, and faced the sole seated figure beside the bonfire.

"Praise Xirik, Envoy Liam. Our guidance failed to achieve the intended effect. The Merchant Alliance Council's response was faster than anticipated. They have already decided to deploy the guard to suppress the protests."

The figure seated by the bonfire, addressed as Envoy Liam, remained silent for a moment before emitting a hoarse voice.

"Praise Xirik."

"The fall of the Blackwater Guild, the obvious signs of silencing Bartley, have already made the perceptive nobles and merchants within the Merchant Alliance sense something amiss. Their countermeasure... is clever. They actually want to use the hands of an enemy nation to investigate us."

"The Slime Kingdom... is an unexpected variable. Old Bartley violated the doctrine, provoked an enemy he shouldn't have due to personal desire. He has already become kindling for the new sun to burn."

"Have them all withdraw. Remind all followers to pay attention to hiding their identities, maintain silence. After all... the world is not yet fully prepared to welcome the new sun."

The Shadow Walker respectfully nodded, then inquired, "I seek the Envoy's guidance. Should we transport those recently captured Sun Church followers, and... that Great Slime Religion Vampire, back to the northern stronghold in the White Horse Kingdom?"

Liam fell into silence, speaking only after a long while, "No need."

"The collapse of the Wesman Dynasty has already drawn too much attention. Our actions and arrangements in the Forge Region may have already been noticed as unusual by certain existences."

"The lunar eclipse is approaching, the very time to offer celebration for the birth of the new sun. There needs to be old believers of the sun to make a contribution for this. Their faith and lives will become the kindling to illuminate the new path."

"New Xirik will guide these lost children, allowing them to ultimately walk the correct path."

"Only by believing in New Xirik can one obtain true salvation and rebirth."

Upon hearing this, the followers all slightly raised their hands crossed over their chests, making the jawless Skull holy emblem on their robes more clearly visible.

"Praise New Xirik. May the light of the new white protect the world, dispel all the ignorance of the old days."

...

In the nameless prison built of rough black stone, deeper within the sanctuary.

The faint sounds of praise and prayer coming from outside, though blurred by the stone walls, still wormed their way into the cell like icy venomous snakes.

The several Sun Church followers imprisoned in the cell couldn't help but grab the cold, damp iron bars, angrily roaring towards the direction of the dark corridor outside:

"Heretics! You blasphemers! You will eventually be burned to ashes by the holy fire of Ignis, your souls eternally scorched!"

"Those who blaspheme the sun faith are unforgivable and will surely suffer divine punishment!"

Their curses seemed to resonate with other Sun Church followers imprisoned in other cells.

Some followers began kneeling on the cold, filthy stone brick floor, clasping their hands together, praying softly, reciting scriptures from the Sun Canon for exorcism and seeking protection, as if this could purify the unclean words entering their ears and grant them divine shelter.

In the prison corridor, several New Sun followers standing like silent statues, holding staves, stood guard nearby. They showed no reaction to these Sun followers' curses and prayers, not even shifting their gaze.

However, from the cell opposite across the prison corridor, a lazy voice spoke up at this moment.

"Hmm... presumptuous neighbors, shouting yourselves hoarse with curses here won't kill these believers."

This sudden voice immediately silenced the cursing and praying Sun followers. They were startled to realize that there seemed to be others imprisoned in this dark prison.

"Who is it?" The Sun followers warily turned towards the direction of the voice, squinting their eyes, trying to pierce the darkness deep within the opposite cell.

They stared intently at the similarly rusted iron bars of the opposite cell. A pair of eyes, shimmering with a deep, ruby-like luster, gradually became clearly visible in the darkness.

And the owner of these eyes was a Vampire imprisoned here—Casimir.

Casimir yawned and stretched.

To be honest, as a devout follower of the Great Slime Religion, he had not the slightest interest in engaging in conversation or debate with these heretics.

In his view, the sun and slimes were two completely different topics.

One was just a sphere that emitted annoying light, the other was a great and sublime existence.

But these newcomers were simply too noisy. Their curses and prayers disturbed his attempt at meditation during this boring confinement—reminiscing about the delicious gel.

Facing the wary or puzzled gazes of these Sun followers, Casimir straightened his collar, slightly bowed, gently placed his right hand over his left chest, elegantly performing a noble salute.

"Casimir, Bishop of the Great Slime Religion, and also the Kingdom's most devout missionary. Here, I extend my greetings to you, followers of the sun."

"Great... Slime Religion?" Several Sun followers looked at each other in confusion. This was the first time they had heard that a lowly Magical Creature like a slime also had believers.

Could it have emerged from some kind of primitive swamp worship?

Casimir looked completely unfazed, as if he was long accustomed to this kind of reaction, but this disdain did not make him feel ashamed.

On the contrary, he even felt these believers were too ignorant and pitiful, not knowing the greatness and sublimity of slimes.

This was also why he disliked dealing with heretics. After all, the wise never engage in meaningless arguments with fools.

However, his self-introduction unexpectedly elicited a different reaction among the Sun followers.

If what stood before them was just an ordinary Vampire—that kind of evil creature rumored to drink blood, fear sunlight, and associate with darkness and death—they naturally wouldn't pay attention, and might even curse them doubly. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

But if the other party claimed to be a believer... this subtly stirred a certain desire to speak within them.

Heretics twisted orthodox doctrine, were tumors of faith, and must be purified and eliminated.

Heretics, however, were those who had strayed onto the wrong path and needed guidance.

Enlightening the ignorant, making the faithless convert to the sun—this, in their view, was the basic duty of a missionary. Though glorious, it was relatively easy.

But subduing heretics, making them change their original beliefs and convert to the sun... this was difficult.

It required a missionary to possess profound theological knowledge, eloquence, and unwavering confidence in their own faith to subdue heretics in debate.

And precisely because of this, every devout follower and missionary of the Sun Church had, deep in their hearts, fantasized about being able to subdue heretics with pure faith and truth, even if facing just a Vampire.

In their view, this was practically the highest honor a missionary could achieve, the most powerful proof of their own faith.

Thus, after a brief silence and exchange of glances, a Sun follower who looked relatively young spoke up first.

"Unfamiliar heretic, do you know that we all bathe in the light of the sun?"

"Slimes are also creatures that rely on sunlight and warmth to grow. They, like us, are children of the sun, blessed and sheltered by Ignis."

"Since slimes also receive the sun's grace, why do you not choose to believe in the radiant sun, Ignis, who bestows vitality upon all things, and instead worship... these slimy creations?"

Casimir tilted his head slightly, as if listening seriously, but his ruby-like eyes sparkled with a sly light.

He did not directly refute the other's logic, but leisurely said:

"Interesting viewpoint, young missionary. However... this Bishop seems to have heard a certain New Sun follower mention that the sun has long since fallen. It does not and cannot respond to the prayers of its followers anymore. This is the reason the new sun is about to rise."

His words were like a poisoned dagger, piercing the most sensitive pain point in the hearts of the Sun followers.

As soon as these words were spoken, the expressions of all the Sun followers changed immediately.

One follower argued, "That is the blasphemous talk of heretics, purely slandering the great sun faith."

"Ignis does not need to respond to followers, nor does It respond to followers. Its very existence is grace and shelter. Its light shines upon all things, and this is the eternal response!"

His argument was forceful and resolute, making the other Sun followers chime in agreement.

Casimir took all this in, saying mockingly, "Devout followers of the sun, how about... we make a bet?"

"Bet on what?" Several Sun followers looked at him warily, their eyes filled with distrust.

Casimir spread his hands, "Relax, everyone. It's not some dangerous covenant."

"What I want to say is—" He paused slightly, his gaze sweeping over each face, then slowly said in a tone brimming with confidence:

"Among those present here, the degree of your piety towards the sun you believe in... I'm afraid not a single one can compare to this Bishop's faith in the great Slime."

He spread his arms wide, as if to embrace some intangible existence, his voice filled with a kind of fanaticism and absolute certainty:

"Praise the great Slime. I firmly believe that the Slime will surely guide me on the path to escape this place! I firmly believe that the will and protection of the Slime are omnipresent!"

After saying this, he turned to the Sun followers, his tone shifting to questioning:

"Then, what about all of you?"

"Do you also firmly believe that the sun you believe in will, in such a time of peril, save Its followers from destruction?"

"Do you firmly believe that your prayers and faith can bring you tangible salvation and hope?"

This series of questions struck the hearts of the Sun followers like heavy hammers.

They stood there dumbfounded, unable to utter half a word.

Yes... did they firmly believe?

If they firmly believed, why were they so enraged by the blasphemous words of heretics? Those who truly believe should feel pity for errors, not anger.

If they firmly believed, why, in this dark prison, could they not feel the warmth and guidance of the sun, only fear and despair remaining?

The sun not responding to followers, the increasingly frequent anomalies in the Forge Region in recent years, the sudden appearance of New Sun followers... various memories and rumors had actually long ago silently planted a seed named doubt in their hearts.

It was just that before, they used fanatical faith, elaborate rituals, and the power of the collective to suppress and ignore this seed.

But in this desperate situation, facing the core-piercing questions of a heretic... this seed began to sprout and grow uncontrollably.

Once doubt takes root, then faith is no longer pure.

This debate hadn't even truly begun, and they had already lost.

Not lost in eloquence or theology, but lost in the deepest recesses of their hearts, in the wavering they themselves hadn't fully realized.

"I... I... The sun doesn't need to do this. Martyrdom for faith is what we should do."

The young missionary was still arguing, but this time with even less conviction.

The other Sun followers also fell into a deathly silence. No one spoke up to argue anymore, no one prayed loudly anymore.

They silently turned around, walking with heavy steps back into the darkness deep within their cell, either leaning against the wall or slumping down to sit on the cold, filthy stone brick floor, burying their faces in their hands or knees.

They seemed to have fallen into prolonged contemplation, or perhaps were just escaping the suffocating reality and self-doubt.

Casimir across from them also hadn't expected these Sun followers to be so fragile.

His gaze flickered slightly.

But this also showed him a possibility. Perhaps he could swap roles with these Sun followers.

Try preaching to these lost lambs.