Morning mist hung over the edge of town, draping the streets and signposts in a veil of hushed gray. Spring thunder rolled soon after, followed by a steady patter of rain. Cold wind slipped through the window cracks; raindrops tapped the floor by the window, leaving scattered wet marks.

Inside, the Eldritch God still slept by the pillow, while Moga had already risen early. She checked her gear with practiced efficiency, swapped into light leather armor for mobility, and pulled a dark travel cloak over it—ready to lower the hood and hide her face at a moment’s notice.

It had been more than a year since she’d arrived in Adelock and encountered the Eldritch God.

She couldn’t deny that she’d improved a great deal over that year. Because there aren’t many upward paths for commoners, ordinary adventurers have little way to grow in strength beyond buying expensive magic gear. But Moga could learn magic directly from the Eldritch God—an advantage even palace nobles with bloodlines and backgrounds couldn’t easily match.

Opposite to her progress, however, the adventurers’ exploration of the Adelock Great Labyrinth had retrogressed considerably.

The reason was simple: with a flood of monsters pouring out of the maze, the entire forest had turned into a perilous monster-infested wood.

A year ago, the first pioneers could easily trample low-tier monsters encountered on the road and reach the hills by the labyrinth entrance. Now, merely approaching the forest’s edge meant frequent encounters with mid-tier monsters. Without Silver rank or above, there was no point even dreaming of seeing the labyrinth’s entrance.

That was why, after receiving her one-star Silver adventurer badge yesterday, Moga only now mustered the courage to explore the ruins again. As a lone wolf, compared to cooperative teams, she needed considerably more strength to handle unexpected situations.

Of course, if the Eldritch God counted, she wasn’t strictly alone. But he was still weak; relying on him constantly worried her—what if one day he abandoned her and found a new host?

After a moment, seeing the Eldritch God still asleep, Moga took the oilcloth umbrella she’d recently bought by the door and stepped out to fetch breakfast for her lord.

The rain outside was fine and constant, wrapping the town in a hazy, ink-blue veil. The air was cool and damp with a fresh, green scent. It was early; the streets were nearly empty, with only the crisp sound of raindrops on stone echoing through the hollow lanes.

Moga walked along the town’s main road for a while. Near the center, she sensed an unusual atmosphere. She saw many figures in various uniforms moving about the street; several cast scrutinizing glances at her as they passed.

Her brow twitched.

From their attire she could tell at once they were from the churches—and all three of the major True-God churches had shown up. Besides the Crimson Sanctuary, there were the Trinity Church and the Evergreen Revelation, the latter originating from the Elven Kingdom.

They stood guard at alleys and intersections, patrolling. Some knocked door to door with solemn faces, occasionally using odd detection magics—like some kind of divination or sensing.

As a favored of the Eldritch God, Moga felt a prick of unease. She instinctively pulled her umbrella brim down to hide her chin and hurried toward the notice board.

A small crowd of townsfolk, likewise disturbed, had gathered around the board. Moga moved closer and saw a new announcement.

It was an emergency martial order: reliable intelligence reported that heretics controlled by an Eldritch God had infiltrated the Adelock area. From now on, in addition to a curfew, everyone entering or leaving town must undergo strict inspection.

Moga’s amber pupils narrowed slightly after reading the notice.

She was certain the heretic described wasn’t her—she’d been laying low in Adelock and never caused trouble. The only ones who’d seen the Eldritch God act were the Steelblade Party, who had left long ago, more than half a year back; even if they’d noticed something, they wouldn’t have waited until now to report it.

The problem was that even if the heretic wasn’t her, the fact that she was also a favored of an Eldritch God didn’t help. With the three churches acting together, she could easily become the scapegoat—and she and her weakened patron would be in grave trouble.

Of course she had other options, such as turning the Eldritch God in to the churches herself. After all, she hadn’t been corrupted; her mind was clear. If she exposed him proactively and argued she’d been coerced and had committed no grievous acts, she might be declared innocent.

The thought flashed briefly and was quickly dismissed. After hesitation she decided to hurry back and inform the Eldritch God, letting him decide.

On the way back, perhaps noticing her half-elf identity, an Elven cleric from the Evergreen Revelation stopped her for a scan. The cleric sensed for a moment, confirmed there was no Eldritch contamination on her, and waved her on.

Moga sighed with relief inwardly—she’d been ready to fight and flee, yet the Evergreen cleric had found nothing odd.

She told herself it couldn’t be that the Evergreen Revelation was incompetent; after all, they were one of the three major churches, experienced in handling Eldritch matters, and her patron was in a weak state. That the elven priest found no trace meant the Eldritch God hadn’t tainted her—despite sharing a bed for over a year, her body was clean of corruption.

Oddly, upon realizing this, she felt not the relief she’d expected but some puzzlement.

Why hadn’t the Eldritch God contaminated her?

Church propaganda taught that followers or favoured of Eldritch Gods inevitably became tainted—corruption was the mark of falling, the sign of being chosen. Yet she’d remained untainted. Did this mean she wasn’t truly chosen?

If she’d thought this a year ago, when they hardly knew each other, she’d have been glad—no one wanted ties to an Eldritch God. But after a year together, during which the Eldritch God had helped her so much, she had learned the sincerity of his kindness; her gratitude was genuine. Discovering she wasn’t chosen now felt oddly hurtful.

Ten minutes later, back in the cottage, Moga sat by the window watching the rain. Her refined profile showed a melancholy she’d not worn before.

After another hour, the tentacle on the bed finally moved. Its tip rose, revealing an eye that blinked at her.

To Yvette’s surprise, the half-elf who usually obeyed readily was now dazing and didn’t respond to her waking.

Yvette wove herself over, habitually curling around Moga’s waist, and asked, “Something on your mind?”

Moga snapped back to herself, startled, apologized, and then recounted what she’d seen in town. Worried, she added, “—in that case, I might not be able to go out with you.”

Before the heretics were captured, the three churches would jointly seal the town exits and conduct thorough checks. That meant even if Yvette hid well, slipping past inspections would be difficult. The safest choice would be for Moga to go out alone from now on, keeping Yvette at home to avoid danger.

Yvette wasn’t too worried about Moga’s concern. She had some confidence in her runic-hacking skill; the only worry was if the churches used sensing magics keyed to runes she didn’t understand—then she’d be helpless. But she didn’t mind staying home; she was good at hunkering down for years if needed.

“It’s fine,” Yvette said. “Even without me, you should be able to protect yourself while hunting monsters.”

“Mm.”

“Anything else?”

“I want to know—Lord Eldritch, why didn’t you contaminate me?” Moga hesitated, asking with a hint of confusion.

She assumed it meant the Eldritch God hadn’t chosen her—perhaps due to poor talent or some other factor—but secretly she hoped for a different answer.

“Contaminate?” Yvette blinked. “What is that?”

Moga widened her eyes and fell silent. The Eldritch God’s reaction was so absurd she couldn’t tell if he was deliberately feigning ignorance.

She explained, “The Eldritch contamination—you know, it makes people fall and go mad. Aren’t you aware?”

“I don’t have that contamination.”

“…Aren’t you an Eldritch God?”

“Does being one mean I must have contamination?”

……

Moga fell quiet. The churches’ claims about Eldritch contamination might be propaganda—she didn’t know the truth. At least, the Eldritch God she’d encountered clearly didn’t think that way.

Sensing the half-elf’s complicated thoughts, Yvette added, “Don’t worry. I’m very pleased with you—I won’t abandon you suddenly.”

“No—I—I didn’t mean that—!” Moga blushed, stumbling over her words from embarrassment. She’d been probing with that question, but she didn’t understand how the Eldritch God had detected it. Could he read minds?

To change the subject she quickly asked, “Lord Eldritch, what will we do if the heretic isn’t caught? Wouldn’t you be in danger?”

Yvette considered a moment, then lifted another tentacle and curled it around Moga’s small, soft hand. “That’s why,” she said, “for now, you must protect me.”

“Don’t worry, my lord—I’ll do everything I can!” Feeling the trust in Yvette’s words, Moga immediately grew serious and answered like a vow.

No one knew how long the churches’ joint martial law would last, but an Eldritch-controlled heretic was a grave matter—an agent of the Eldritch will.

After observing for a few days, Moga noticed the three churches were expanding their sanctuaries, upgrading defenses.

That meant they intended a protracted campaign against the hidden heretics. She felt a twinge of helplessness—and even a desire to join the hunt to end it sooner.

Then an idea struck her: that might not be a bad plan.

Assisting in capturing heretics was a routine church duty. Whether participating in arrests or providing reliable leads, the churches would pay rotating fees.

Besides, ordinary people feared cultists because of the Eldritch contamination; only clergy could act without hesitation.

But Moga was different—she herself was a favored of an Eldritch God. Everyone had their “god” backing them; who was to fear whom?

The more she thought about it, the more feasible it seemed. She immediately went home and asked the Eldritch God’s opinion.

Yvette had no objection—she was curious about the cultists too—and agreed to let Moga try, even planning to come along to watch.

Over the following days, the half-elf began lingering around Adelock, searching for potential cultists.

Compared to the churches’ sweep, Moga’s investigation was much more methodical—after a year in town, she knew Adelock like a close-knit community, unlike other adventurers who stayed only briefly.

The cultists were newcomers; that meant they were likely among the transient population.

Ten days later, on a night approaching curfew, Moga tailed a strange man into a deep, deserted alley and then into a patch of woods near the town’s edge.

The woods served as a campsite for a group of visiting adventurers who camped to save coin instead of staying at inns. For adventurers, lighting a campfire was enough; it was a common sight.

Moga looked around the campsite and left empty-handed once more. On her way back, a figure suddenly stepped out from a shadowed corner. Moonlight traced his outline; she recognized him as one of the visiting adventurers—someone who had companions, so she hadn’t prioritized him in her investigation.

There was no preamble or dialog; the next second the man strode toward Moga, and anyone could tell something was wrong.

Moga drew her bow. A wind-infused green arrow sliced through the air and struck the man’s chest dead center—but in the next instant, his shape faded as if rippling water.

Under the moon, another identical shadow-man condensed from darkness elsewhere and lunged. Moga’s arrows flew like a string of beads—each shot apparently hit, and each time the target dissolved like a phantom, only to re-form somewhere else, like an unkillable cockroach.

“For a half-elf, not bad,” a mocking voice said from all around.

Stranger still, with that laughter the space felt cut off from the world. Despite the commotion, no townsfolk peeked out from the nearby buildings; even the clergy patrolling the alley’s end were nowhere to be seen.

“Trickery,” Moga snorted and kept attacking, but the figures seemed endless—unkillable.

Seeing the situation was wrong, she used Wind Walk to pull back and planned to leave the eerie alley. The next instant the alley stretched unnaturally; she retreated for what felt like minutes, but the mouth of the lane remained impossibly distant.

“Ha ha, save your energy! You can’t escape!” the voice laughed. “Just hand over your body nicely—I’ll cherish it.”

Could he swap bodies? Some necromancy? Moga guessed, but didn’t call on the Eldritch God. She remembered a technique Yvette had taught for this kind of thing—one that solidified spirits and revealed illusions. It was perfect for the moment.

Bolstering her soul defenses, Moga perceived the inconsistency hidden in the shadows—the man’s true body. She loosed an arrow; the man screamed and flinched, clearly panicked. The spatial distortion collapsed and the world snapped back to normal.

Moga fired a few more arrows in pursuit. This time the man finally became enraged; his mind seemed to fray. With a warped, trembling laugh, a huge, translucent phantom eye suddenly manifested and opened behind him.

An invisible gaze looked down like the indifferent warning of a god.

Is that the Eldritch God?

Wait, what am I doing—don’t look—. The moment she met that eye, Moga’s body froze as if plunged into an ice pit. A chaotic will poured into her mind from that unseen eye like a tide, trying to shred her sanity.

She suddenly felt she’d taken things too far. The Eldritch God had been too kind to her—so kind that she’d lost her reverence for other Eldritch beings!

At that critical instant, a gray tentacle slid from under her skirt and plunged straight into the invisible eye.

The next moment there was a tiny pop, like a bubble bursting. The unseen eye reflexively shut and vanished.

At the same time, the man went limp as if his muscles had been drained; he collapsed, apparently bereft of reason, and began to howl madly like a beast—drawing the attention of the clergy outside the alley.