Chapter Five: The Dream of the Wanderer

Eric was indeed not joking.

Putting aside the somewhat naive novice nun Sophie, he found it strange that Alena, the abbess with an outstanding figure, striking appearance, and unique aura, who in the game was the kind of visually pleasing NPC that one would go out of their way to see, left no impression on him despite being a veteran player with ten years of experience.

Either this world had spontaneously generated content absent from the previous online game, or they had not survived to reach the official storyline phase of the game, meaning they all perished during the demonic invasion three years later.

Only after recalling the closed beta test did he arrive at a more precise conclusion.

Alena and Sophie had indeed died, but much earlier—before the demonic invasion—they both perished at the hands of the undead in the abandoned mines of Dante County's countryside.

Reflecting on the beta test details, Eric remembered a quest mentioning two nuns from the Holy Capital who ventured deep into the mines to exterminate the undead, only to be overwhelmed due to underestimating the number and strength of the monsters—one died and the other was severely injured.

The novice nun who narrowly escaped the mines conveyed some crucial intelligence but soon succumbed as well.

During the beta test, Eric had undertaken the mission given by the dying novice nun and vaguely recalled that the other nun had sacrificed her chance to escape to save her. He even found the badly mutilated torso of that nun later and lamented their tragic fate for some time.

Because so much time had passed, Eric had initially never connected the two living nuns before him with the fading memories of the beta test storyline. Now, with a chance to save them, he would not watch them die in vain.

Moreover, he needed their reluctant “introduction.”

Judging by Alena’s expression, she was clearly skeptical, suspecting he was once again speaking ill-intentioned rumors to scare them.

But after some consideration, the abbess agreed to have the lord’s household accompany her, reasoning that more people meant more security, and no one wished to place themselves in danger.

“Then I will first discuss this with my uncle. Abbess Alena, do you have any requests? The lord’s household will do its utmost to accommodate your needs for clothing, food, lodging, and travel.”

“No need. Sophie and I will stay at the local church; there’s no need for the lord’s household to trouble themselves. This matter is critical—I only hope we can depart as soon as possible.”

When Eric left the guest room, the novice nun Sophie who had gone to send a letter had still not returned.

On the Gaia Continent, correspondence mainly relied on messengers active across the lands, as there were no post offices. These messengers typically gathered in city squares or near taverns, awaiting senders.

Messengers were easily recognizable—they were almost all winged humanoids, bearing conspicuous wings that allowed them to swiftly travel between cities.

However, Eric guessed Sophie would not go to the square to seek a messenger because the church had its own dedicated couriers, which were more efficient and ensured better confidentiality.

Church messengers usually resided at local monasteries and, to symbolize sanctity, were exclusively winged beings with pure white wings.

Eric glanced out the corridor window; only a few birds flitted across the azure sky, no winged humanoids in sight.

“Master,” a maid bowed upon seeing him outside the reception room.

“Is Father Roy still here?” Eric asked.

“Father Roy went to tour the courtyard,” the maid replied.

He moved to the window and looked down at the courtyard but saw no one.

“And uncle?”

“The count is in his study.”

Eric then headed to the study.

Inside, Edgar slumped in a chair, staring absentmindedly at a row of portraits hanging on the wall.

The first portrait was of the knight ancestor who founded the Kiminno family—a legendary figure—while at the end hung the likeness of Edgar’s late elder brother, Eric’s father, and the previous lord of the county.

“Is there some dust on your father’s portrait?” Eric lifted his eyes and studied the ancestors.

“Every frame in the study is enchanted with dust-repelling magic; they never gather dust.”

“...Right, I forgot.”

Edgar lowered his head and rubbed his furrowed brow. “I only looked for a while, but my eyes are already strained.”

The desk was strewn with official documents and letters from across the domain—some loosely rolled parchments, others sealed with wax; senders varied, but the recipient was always the same. As lord of the Dante County domain, handling these documents was Edgar’s primary daily task.

“This emblem... is it from the wood elves?”

Eric approached the desk, picked up a parchment decorated with green leaf motifs, untied the thin cord binding it, and scanned the contents.

Since Eric was twelve, Edgar had begun involving him in some affairs to cultivate his capability in managing the domain.

Now in his forties, unmarried and childless, Edgar wished to hand over the title and lordship inherited from his late brother to his nephew as soon as possible, then leave to continue wandering the continent.

—This count had already traveled most of the empire in his twenties and thirties, truly a ranger at heart.

He dreamed of returning to his former adventurous life, but the family’s responsibilities reminded him that the time to let go had not yet come.

“Why are these wood elves demanding to restrict human activity again? Isn’t that huge forest enough for them?”

“Elves...” Edgar glanced at the parchment in Eric’s hand. “Most elves don’t like associating with humans. But they bear no ill will—just find us noisy.”

“Since when are orcs noisy?” Eric put down the parchment. “Yet elves seem to get along well with those rough orcs.”

“The noise the elves refer to...” Edgar inhaled deeply, straightened up, and tapped his head. “It means here.”

Eric smiled. “So elves cling to orcs to highlight their own wisdom.”

Edgar seemed to recall something and smiled as well, then said:

“Humans build cities and nations, but we are not the only race inhabiting this land—elves, dwarves, orcs, winged folk... even demons. Each race is unique, and when they are willing to communicate with us, we should not ignore their claims—though that does not mean we must concede.”

Eric nodded. “I understand, uncle.”

“Let me see.”

He handed the elf’s parchment to his uncle.

Edgar scanned it, frowned, then his expression brightened. “So it’s the forest over there.”

“The ones disturbing the wood elves are likely refugees fleeing from Freiberg,” Eric explained. “No news has come in days—they must have hidden in the northern forest.”

“Do we need to do something?”

“Yes, something must be done...” The count frowned, weighing his options, then suddenly looked up at his nephew. “If you were Eric, how would you handle it?”

“My way...” Eric hesitated. “I would personally lead a team to escort the holy envoy to the Vale town and first deal with the undead there.”

Edgar was momentarily stunned but quickly recovered. “Has Abbess Alena already awakened? Did she agree to go?”

“Yes.”

“Eric, do you want to come along?”

“I must.”

Eric emphasized his intent. “Yela not only told me undead appeared there but also showed me two holy envoys perished because of it. I have to save them.”

“...”

After returning from the square, Edgar had wanted to find a moment to talk to his nephew about divine signs, but never expected Eric to bring it up himself.

“Yela... Eric, you say you heard Yela’s divine oracle?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure...” Edgar hesitated. “Are you sure it was really the goddess Yela?”

Having traveled extensively and served as lord for years, Edgar was experienced and would not readily accept his nephew’s claims wholesale.

He looked into Eric’s eyes. “The divine signs of Yela, to me, seem more like divine magic performed by clergy.”

...So uncle saw through it as well.

Eric was glad he had not said too much at the square.

“That divine magic was performed by me, called ‘Goddess’s Protection.’”

He could not reveal the whole truth—awakening memories from a previous life and the contents of those memories would be unbelievable. So he stuck with the story he told Alena to convince her: a mixture of truth and fabrication to make it more believable.

“Eric performed it?” Edgar was even more surprised.

He could tell it was quite advanced divine magic—regional bishops might not even be able to wield it, yet Eric claimed to be its caster.

“I originally did not have the ability...” Eric joined his hands in prayer, adopting a more practiced pose.

“Yela granted and taught me, letting me manifest miracles on her behalf to enlighten the world.”

“...”

Edgar stared at the supposed mystic for a long moment.

He could not understand how his normally sensible nephew had suddenly become like this.

—Unless what he said was true.

Then, like the skeptical abbess, Edgar asked Eric to perform the divine magic again.

Eric could only respond that the skill was too advanced, the casting conditions too stringent, and it was still on cooldown.

“...Besides the magic, the more important thing is that I glimpsed a part of the future—such as the discovery of undead in the abandoned mines of Vale.”

Seeing his uncle still struggling, Eric quickly shifted to what he was truly good at.

“Aside from Yela, I cannot imagine anyone else possessing such divine power.”

Edgar pursed his lips and fell silent.

Regarding Eric’s unknown prophetic ability, he could think of no other explanation.

Eric’s recent activities and contacts were all clear to Edgar; he was confident that under normal circumstances, the lord’s household would be the first to learn of any unrest in Vale.

But accepting it at once was difficult.

“...But why would Yela choose Eric?”

Edgar glanced at Eric’s still-praying hands. “Before today, you couldn’t even remember all ten disciples of the holy prophet Raphael, right?”

He almost said that Eric was far from devout enough to garner divine favor.

And Eric hadn’t memorized them all, either.

Clearing his throat, Eric said, “I think it’s because of Eileen.”

“...Eileen?” Edgar was taken aback.

“You don’t know—Eileen’s frailty since childhood isn’t due to anything else but that she was born with an excessively strong spiritual power...”

“I know that.”

“That’s why her body can’t bear it... hmm?”

Eric suddenly froze. The two looked at each other in surprise.

“It’s actually because of Eileen...”

“You know?”

Eric was astonished; he thought Edgar was unaware of this. He couldn’t help but ask, “Then why not send Eileen to learn magic or simply hire a magic tutor at home?”

“That’s complicated...”

Edgar looked at the portraits on the wall and shook his head. “It was your father’s dying wish.”

“...Father’s wish?” Eric was even more surprised.

“The exact reasons cannot be told to you yet,” Edgar took a deep breath. “First, tell me what connection Eileen’s talent has with this matter.”

Eric studied his uncle for a moment, then temporarily set aside his doubts and spoke:

“In the future I saw, Eileen as the saint would go astray due to her magical talent, committing a grave mistake—breaching the imperial capital—which would be a catastrophe for the entire empire... Saint Eileen would become a witch and eventually meet a tragic end, and I would die protecting her.”

Edgar was shocked.

Since discovering Eric possessed considerable information he had intentionally concealed, he had begun to believe and accept his nephew’s words: perhaps the creator god truly showed him some vision of the future.

And now he said...

“Eileen would become a witch? Eric would... die?”

“Eileen’s current uncontrollable, muddled spiritual state is already very repressive,” Eric sighed. “If someone with ill intent guides her to release her spiritual burden, she would place infinite trust in that person. And that person is in the Holy Capital.”

Edgar frowned deeply. “So that’s why you want to replace Eileen and become the saint’s successor...”

“Not only that, Eileen must study magic and actively learn to control her spiritual power,” Eric added. “That way, she won’t go astray and will become an unprecedentedly powerful sorceress.”

Edgar said nothing, propping his head with one hand, eyes fixed on the desk, unsure whether he was pondering the truth of Eric’s words or considering whether his plan was feasible.

Eric remained silent, calmly awaiting his uncle’s decision.

He had explained the motives behind all his actions today—albeit selectively—primarily to calm his uncle and prevent any overreaction, such as binding him to a monastery for exorcism.

If his uncle could fully trust his story, it would also facilitate his subsequent plans.

After a pause, Edgar spoke.

“Wanting to replace Eileen as the saint’s successor is too chaotic. There must be another way.”

Eric felt somewhat helpless; of course, he knew his choice was somewhat rash.

Yet he was also a bit excited—his uncle’s words meant he believed or at least accepted his explanation.

“I was terrified by the future shown by Yela,” Eric admitted. “I’m afraid of losing Eileen.”

Edgar sighed softly. He too did not wish to see his nephew and niece both perish.

“What did the holy envoy say?”

“She dared not speak.”

“Hm?”

“She can’t decide and is awaiting the saint’s response,” Eric explained. “The letter has already been sent.”

“The saint would never agree.”

Edgar shook his head. “In hundreds of years, there have been all kinds of troubles with saintly succession, but never has there been a male successor.”

“Then the Kiminno family will make history in the church,” Eric joked.

Edgar gave his nephew a sharp look.

“If the saint is devout enough, she would break the precedent,” Eric added.

Edgar studied him for a moment. “What’s your plan?”

“I will prove that Yela’s favor for me is genuine.”

“How?”

“I wrote a letter to the saint.”

Edgar waited a moment, seeing Eric had no further words and did not press.

“Good that you have a plan.”

He paused. “The saintship is a lifetime appointment. Once entering the saint’s monastery, one must abandon all secular power and status, cannot marry, and must serve the deity for life—do you understand what that means?”

Eric understood his uncle’s meaning. “Isn’t there still Eileen? Let her inherit the family.”

“Eileen...”

In the Deran Empire, female lords were rare but not unheard of. Edgar’s concern lay elsewhere.

“You said you want to go with the holy envoy to the Vale mines?”

“Ah?... Yes.”

His uncle abruptly changed the subject, and Eric was momentarily taken aback before realizing. “That place is dangerous. If the envoy is killed, it would be a big problem.”

“And what about you? Are you confident?”

Edgar looked at him.

“I can guarantee I will return alive, but I need a team,” Eric said. This was his second reason for coming to see his uncle.

Edgar nodded. Even if Eric hadn’t mentioned it, he wouldn’t allow him to go alone.

“When can you depart?” Eric asked.

“When do you want to?”

“The sooner, the better.”

Edgar glanced outside. “If we leave this afternoon, it will be dark by the time we arrive.”

“I’m worried that if we delay, the undead will multiply,” Eric said. “Those are civilians with almost no means of resistance.”

In fact, in the beta test storyline, it was because intervention came too late that the entire abandoned mine was overrun by undead, causing heavy casualties among the villagers.

“Hmm, makes sense.”

Edgar was pleased with his nephew’s concern for the common folk. He stood, summoned a maid to call the chief of guards, and told Eric to prepare for immediate departure.

“You probably haven’t seen undead in person yet. Don’t let fear make you lose your grip on your sword.”

Eric smiled. “Of course not.”

Undead or not, he had cut down thousands of zombies and skeletons in the past decade—even if all with keyboard and mouse.

“Go prepare.”

“Yes.”

Watching his nephew leave with a hint of excitement, Edgar stood for a moment before sitting back down amid the piled documents.