Over the next few days, Moga didn’t return to the Ultra-Ancient Ruins. Instead she stayed in Adelock, trading with various traveling merchants and hunting for the best prices to sell those ancient coins and antiques.

During that time, Moga discovered to her surprise that she’d already gained a fair bit of notoriety in Adelock. She could guess without thinking that it was because of the Steelblade Adventuring Party.

After all, the power the Eldritch God displayed that day was truly astounding. Even top-tier Golden-rank adventurers wouldn’t necessarily be able to drop so many people with a single move, but she had — the ensuing stir was inevitable. Now, not only did people stare when she passed, even the usually stone-faced landlady of the Old Oak Inn forced a rare smile when Moga renewed her room.

But that brought a new problem: Moga herself didn’t actually have that kind of strength.

Unless the Eldritch God kept backing her with power that hadn’t fully returned, sooner or later the town’s adventurers would find out that the mysterious, supposedly powerful half-elf lady was actually all show — a paper tiger.

Just thinking about that was enough to make her anxious.

So, reluctantly, Moga decided to lie low for a while and wait for the rumor to die down before going back out.

With some savings accumulated and the inn a crowded, nosy place with poor living conditions, after much hesitation and at Yvette’s suggestion, Moga decided to buy a property of her own.

That had been a near-impossible luxury during her years of wandering, but thanks to the Eldritch God’s favor, she finally had the means.

The purchase went fairly smoothly. With so many adventurers flooding in, several sturdy wooden houses had been built on the edge of Adelock, most coming with their own washrooms — ideal for a lone girl like her.

After some picking, she chose a detached cottage on the town’s edge, close to the woods but not too remote. It only had one bedroom, a sitting room, a bath, and a small storage room, but there was a fenced yard outside, offering decent privacy — and, most importantly, it was within her budget.

After signing the contract, sealing it with her handprint, and taking the brass key, Moga officially had a place to call her own.

Next came buying simple furniture, cleaning, and unpacking.

That night, after lighting the rune lamp in the room, Moga — worn out from a day of work — settled down. She sat in the newly bought chair, poured herself a cup of water, took a sip, and looked around at the sparse interior, feeling stirred.

The house was quiet; the crackle of the fireplace was unusually loud, chasing away the night chill. After a while, a gray tentacle slipped out from under her skirt. The eye at its tip scanned the room and finally commented, “Ordinary.”

Moga had grown used to — or rather numb to — the Eldritch God crawling under her skirt.

She wore a look like she had something to say but kept holding back. After a long moment she mustered courage and asked carefully, “My lord — may I ask you a question?”

The eye turned to her and said, “Ask.”

“I want to know — why are you so good to me?” Moga’s voice was soft but utterly sincere. “You’re nothing like the evil gods in the stories who demand blood sacrifices and corrupt people. You’ve even helped me a lot. I want to know why.”

She had been with the Eldritch God for more than a month. Compared to her early confusion and unease, she could now clearly feel two things.

First, the Eldritch God wasn’t as terrible as people said — if anything, he might be a benevolent deity. The worst he’d done was to slip under her skirt now and then, which, while crude, was somewhat excusable. Second, the Eldritch God appeared to have no sinister scheme; he hadn’t done anything meaningful with an obvious agenda. The only purposeful behavior he showed was urging her to buy and try different foods, giving the impression of a gourmet.

That he might not be evil sounded like good news, but as a favored one who’d received his benefits, Moga still felt she ought to do something to repay him.

As a girl with plenty of worldly experience, she knew there’s no such thing as a free lunch — the more favors one received, the more uneasy one felt.

The eye on the tentacle stared into her clear gaze for a few seconds before replying calmly, “I won’t remain in this world for long. I’ll leave soon. Before I go, I will tell you.”

“Leave?” Moga froze — she hadn’t expected that answer.

What surprised her more was that, upon hearing it, she didn’t feel particularly happy.

She hummed and didn’t press the matter.

Time slipped by quietly in a peaceful, unhurried rhythm, and before she knew it, half a year had passed.

Over those six months, besides soaking up local customs, Yvette had been busy trying to dig up information on Dugrabi and Lant — and the tavern was naturally her source.

Dragon-related intelligence was too esoteric; she still had no idea whether Dugrabi had become a Dragon King, or which Dragon King he might be.

But there was some news about Lant.

Rumor had it that the Abyssal Continent was embroiled in civil war. After the fall of the Supreme Demon King, the demonkind had split into northern and southern courts. The northern court was dominated by abyssal demons, led by someone calling himself the Chaos Demon King. The southern court was led by the demonkin, whose leader called himself the Arcane Demon King.

Yvette knew Lant was definitely in the southern court, but she didn’t know which figure he served under. From what was known, besides the Arcane Demon King, the southern court also had a Demon Marshal and several Demon Generals — all top-tier powerhouses comparable to the Dragon Kings. Whether one of them was Lant remained unknown.

Being far away on the Radiant Continent, she could do little but wish the southern court luck.

Meanwhile, Moga — no longer homeless — settled into a new rhythm. Troubled by her newfound reputation, she kept to herself and spent most of her time improving herself. Her tutor, naturally, was the Eldritch God and his patient tutelage.

In truth, Yvette didn’t deliberately teach her anything. Much like when she had guided Abella, she simply answered Moga’s questions — not initiating, not refusing.

In terms of magical talent, Moga was about the same as humans: not particularly bad, but not outstanding either — very average.

Perhaps because the Eldritch God would leave in the future, Moga worked diligently and learned surprisingly efficiently. She also had her own strengths: years of adventuring had given her rich social and combat experience, allowing her to apply what she learned quickly in practice — something Yvette’s other pupils lacked.

As a result, six months later, when she went back out into the wilds to hunt monsters in the forest, she didn’t take long to rank up — becoming a three-star Bronze adventurer, one step away from the higher Silver tier. She’d advanced far faster than her peers.

Yet she didn’t take pride in it. She remained cool and distant toward strangers as before, and only late at night

would she sometimes show a complicated expression, glancing instinctively toward her waist, lost in thought.