Endless Sea – July 16
Evening light slanted through the curtains and painted Red Falcon’s desk in gold.
The demon that had shattered the governor’s banquet had been killed by Rhine before dawn.
Now Windrest City was quiet again – if you ignored the ruins.
After a day of nonstop work, Red Falcon finally sat down to write to Amm.
He wrote without flourish, the way soldiers wrote when they didn’t have time for poetry.
In the Endless Sea, there were no true secrets. Amm would have heard what happened.
Rhine had faced a demon at Tier 4, Ninth Grade and survived. More than that – he had killed it.
Red Falcon had questioned Jane afterward. Jane was unshakably certain that what they experienced was divine power – the Dream God’s power.
So Red Falcon had only one conclusion left: one of the Seven Gods had intervened for a Hunter named Rhine.
Once, he had mocked the ravings of a deranged prophet whose predictions never came true.
Now he suspected the ‘Seven Gods’ Blessed One’ might be the only prophecy the fool had ever gotten right.
But even as he accepted that, a ridiculous question kept nagging him.
Why did the ones favoring Rhine keep being goddesses?
The Shadowed Stranger had no known gender, sure. But who could say, in a world like this?
He forced himself back to the point.
Flint was tied to Faranil. And Faranil’s notes might contain the secret to crossing the Unbreakable Tier.
The demon had made that claim in front of too many factions. The political aftershocks would be violent.
As for Rhine, he was still in Windrest City. As Flint’s owner, he was a target.
Red Falcon’s informant inside Windrest Keep claimed Panglos wouldn’t strike in the dark – not while people believed the Dream God watched over Rhine.
But Panglos Fell didn’t need a dagger in an alley. He could ruin a man in daylight, with law and ceremony.
If Rhine truly mattered – if he truly was the key to the Unbreakable Tier – then he needed freedom, not chains disguised as promotion.
Red Falcon asked Amm to use every connection available in the capital and at headquarters to secure a public form of protection for Rhine – something even Panglos couldn’t brush aside.
And finally, he warned Amm that Bishop Frey had been gravely wounded. The demon had corrupted the bishop’s revelations and planted something that was now consuming his life from within.
Red Falcon admitted his grief in a single line, then added the hard truth: Windrest Keep’s nobles were already eyeing the next bishop’s seat.
He sealed the letter and handed it to his secretary. The Circle of Earth had a communication network far faster than any courier.
By the time the last sunlight died, the message would already be on its way.
Bishop Frey’s funeral was held five days after the demon battle.
Morning fog draped Violetgold Church in pale gauze. Clerics moved through the garden in silence, preparing the rites.
Rhine didn’t leave the church during Frey’s final days. He stayed and tended the bishop, even when there was nothing left to do but keep a dying man company.
Sunlight finally tore through the mist.
With the tolling of the church bell, the funeral began. Dawncaller clerics performed the purification rites, sending Frey to rest with light and prayer.
Rhine stood to the side, hands clasped behind his back, and watched the bishop’s peaceful face.
He remembered the question Frey had asked on his last night.
Had he been wrong to treat and shelter that little boy? If he hadn’t saved him, could he have saved more lives?
Rhine had smiled bitterly inside. He had never been asked something like that before.
Ultimately, he gave the only answer he could live with: a healer’s duty was to treat the wounded. A healer wasn’t obligated to judge a patient’s future, and had no right to write a sentence over a child’s head.
It wasn’t a perfect answer. Frey seemed to accept it anyway.
He died without thrashing. Without screaming.
Because Frey had spent his life helping anyone who came through his doors, today’s mourners weren’t only clergy and friends.
Many outer-district residents came as well, pausing their reconstruction work to see him off.
Among them, Rhine spotted Paul Dodd.
Paul hadn’t been close to Frey. He was here for Rhine.
After the funeral, Paul pulled Rhine aside.
“I’m saying goodbye,” Paul said. “Tonight I’m heading back to the northern front.”
His expression tightened. “I don’t even know anymore whether this war is still about land. But… you saved my life. There are things you should know before you get caught in them.”
Paul checked the area, then lowered his voice.
“You’re a Hunter like me. Being a cleric in the Goddess of Wisdom and Life’s church isn’t a long-term path.”
“And I heard my father mention the governor has his eyes on you.”
“You’re not a noble. You’re not one of his men. That means he’ll likely ‘assign’ you to the navy for a few years – island exploration.”
Paul’s mouth twisted. “Don’t think that’s a good job. It’s a leash. It’s how Panglos cuts you off from other factions and watches you at the same time.”
“If you endure and prove obedient, he’ll bring you back and send you to a proper place to cultivate.”
“For Dawncallers, that’s the church.”
“For Hunters, it’s the northern forest.”
Paul’s eyes hardened. “I’m not guessing. This is what they did to my father.”
He told Rhine how his father had once been talented – but born a commoner. Nobles didn’t trust him, so the governor forced him into ten years of naval service before he was allowed to set foot in the northern forest and advance properly.
“Ten years,” Paul said quietly. “You never get time back. Don’t walk my father’s road.”
Rhine asked questions. Paul answered, blunt and detailed.
Whenever a commoner became supernatural, the governor pushed them into the navy to ‘temper’ them. Only the most compliant were permitted to return and climb higher.
Paul had avoided it only because the Dodd family had earned trust through his father’s sacrifices.
Windrest Keep sold the arrangement with pretty language and high salaries. The leash was wrapped in silk.
“If you’re not even from here,” Paul added, “go back to your hometown first. Get out from under Panglos’s hand, then head north.”
He grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “When you do, I’ll gift you a dawnwood bow.”
Rhine nodded on the surface.
Inside, he had nothing but silence.
Hometown? He still had no clear memory of one.
And even if he did, he couldn’t afford to disappear into quiet cultivation. Not with Faranil’s notes pulling at the edges of the world.
Later that day, Captain John of the Jellyfish came to the church as well.
He’d attended the funeral – but he also brought a message.
“Yesterday the keep’s Knight Commander came to my house,” John said. “He asked about you. Where I met you, what happened after. It seemed normal, so I told him the truth. That won’t cause trouble, right?”
Rhine was startled. Panglos moved fast.
He replayed the past carefully and shook his head.
“We followed the law,” Rhine said. “Nothing to worry about.”
John relaxed. “Good. Oh – I also heard a Windrest Keep ship is heading to investigate Moonlight Island. Is that connected to you?”
Rhine’s brow lifted.
He’d killed the Abyss-aligned Hunter in a cave under the island. Not a place easily found.
He smiled faintly. “Then they’re going to be disappointed.”
That night, Rhine sat at the desk in his small church room and laid out his future like a map.
Because of Flint, the governor had noticed him. And likely not only the governor.
But Rhine wasn’t panicking.
After the demon battle, he learned that everyone believed the Dream God had protected him.
At first, he’d been shocked that they mistook the Tree Elf Mirror’s power for a god’s direct hand.
He realized the misunderstanding was useful.
Flint was a treasure that invited knives.
If people thought he carried a Dream God’s blessing, then it was like walking under an invisible umbrella – not perfect protection, but enough to make even Panglos hesitate.
So Rhine fed the story.
He acted as though he remembered little, as though the whole battle had been half-dream. Under Jane’s guidance, he publicly thanked the Dream God – the one often depicted as a pair of twin goddesses.
He made sure the narrative took root.
Doubters quieted. Believers became more devout.
Which meant anyone planning to move against him now had to ask themselves whether they were willing to risk divine attention.
Moonlight rose clean and bright outside his window.
Rhine stared at it and let out a slow breath.
With Bishop Frey gone, a Hunter living in a church felt wrong.
Paul insisted a Hunter should cultivate in the northern forest.
But Rhine wasn’t just a Tier 2 Hunter. He was still a Tier 1 Infiltrator.
None of that mattered compared to the real problem.
Rhine pulled out the ten pages of Faranil’s notes from his inventory.
After the demon’s public demand, every major force in the Endless Sea would be hunting those notes.
No one would imagine Rhine held ten pages himself.
He counted them once, then put them away, rubbing at his brow.
Whether it was to manage the Moonshadow potion’s cost, or to ever approach half-divinity in the future, he needed the rest of the notes.
And the strongest lead he had tied Faranil to Woodshire County.
So Rhine couldn’t accept the governor’s ‘gift’ of the navy.
And he couldn’t afford to vanish into the northern forest.
His priority was simple: reach Woodshire and keep digging into Faranil.
He began sorting his inventory.
First: the Artifact he had fished from the demon – the Demon’s Body Bag.
It looked like a small white cotton pouch.
It wasn’t high-tier. When Rhine tested it, the only byproduct he fished from it was a single strand of white thread.
But because its level was low, Appraisal Eye revealed its function clearly.
The Body Bag could produce one drop of inferior demon essence – at a cost. It had to ‘eat’ dead flesh first.
Rhine found it almost charming in a sick way.
If it could consume corpses, then it was the perfect tool for erasing evidence.
As for the inferior demon essence… it could turn people into demon puppets, sure. But he could always burn it.
Either way, the bag itself was useful.
Next: the basic Relic advancement blueprint related to engraving.
It described methods for carving inscriptions that raised a Relic’s grade. The techniques were detailed and practical – but only truly valuable for Relics below Tier 2.
For Flint, now fully fused at Tier 2, its effect would be limited.
Still, Rhine saw a different value.
If he practiced, he could sell the service. Make real money. More than he ever earned selling water-element essence, and without needing to explain where rare materials came from.
Money mattered in any world. Being broke was just another form of death.
A soft “meow” came from the windowsill.
A black, fluffy shape slipped into view – Thea.
Rhine opened the window and let her hop inside.
That afternoon he’d asked Thea to sell a batch of water-element essence. He was preparing to leave for Woodshire, and travel without money was a joke.
“Twenty units,” Rhine said, opening a small pouch. Inside, twenty faintly blue crystals glimmered.
“How long until you can move them?”
He couldn’t dump too much at once without attracting suspicion and disturbing the market.
At current rates, one unit sold for about 120 gold. Twenty meant 2,400 – nearly a full year’s salary for a Violetgold cleric.
It would cover the road to Woodshire.
Thea studied the crystals, then looked up at him.
“I can pay you upfront,” she said. “And I think you should prepare more money than you expect.”
“Upfront?” Rhine echoed, pleasantly surprised.
He caught the second part. “Why?”
Thea flicked her tail. “Because the governor has put out an island-wide bounty for the two Infiltrator pirates.”
“He thinks they escaped from the Mistship. If that’s true, then the notes would be on them. So he’s decided the most important thing is to catch them.”
Thea’s eyes narrowed. “But only we know the truth. They’re dead. You killed them.”
Rhine’s gaze sharpened. “You think they’ll trace that back to me.”
Thea nodded once. “You made too much noise killing that demon. So… what are you going to do now?”