I watched the cardinal's back as he left our room at The Silver Flagon, his ornate robes swishing across the worn floorboards. The golden sun patterns caught the last flickers of candlelight before the door closed behind him with a soft click. For a moment, none of us spoke. The weight of everything we'd just revealed hung in the air like smoke.

  "Do you really think it was wise to tell him where Elane is buried?" Duncan asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

  I turned to him, slightly surprised. I'd expected that question from Hellene, not the former Holy Knight. Her grave was the only solid evidence we had—the only thing that could prove the Heroes Party killed her rather than goblins.

  Goblins didn’t leave corpses to be buried, they made use of all the meat for food and bones for tools.

  "If we want the truth about the Heroes Party exposed," I said carefully, "all the evidence needs to be included. Elane deserves justice, and her grave is proof that Patrick lied about goblins taking her body."

  Also I believed Cardinal Stenvall when he said he wouldn’t have the grave disturbed. He was going to send a high priest to search for it who could use divine magic to identify who was buried with a spell. She’d be left alone in the ground undisturbed.

  Duncan nodded slowly, but his brow remained furrowed with worry. "I hope we can trust him," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

  Hellene, who had been unusually quiet since the cardinal's departure, fixed Duncan with a penetrating stare. "Do you really have so little faith in a cardinal of the church you once loved?"

  At her words, Duncan's expression went completely blank. He turned away, staring at the wall as if it held answers to questions I couldn't even begin to understand. The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable.

  "I think I need a walk," Hellene announced abruptly, rising from her chair with a grace that belied her years. "The air in here is... stifling."

  Before either of us could respond, she had grabbed her staff and swept out of the room, the door closing behind her with a soft thud.

  It took me a moment to realize what had just happened—Hellene had deliberately left us alone. Osirus had already left as well to ‘protect the roof from intruder birds’. This wasn't her needing fresh air; this was her creating an opportunity for Duncan and me to talk privately. Clever old woman.

  I turned to Duncan, who was still staring at the wall as if transfixed.

  "Is your doubt about the cardinal related to losing your faith in Liora?" I asked gently.

  Duncan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he asked a question of his own, his voice hollow and distant.

  "What is faith like on Earth, Will? In your world?"

  I blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. "The definition is a bit different there," I said slowly, trying to organize my thoughts.

  Duncan arched an eyebrow in curiosity, finally turning to face me.

  I ran my hand through my hair, struggling to articulate concepts I'd never had to explain before. My family used to go to church when I was a child, but stopped as my mother became more controlling of the family. I didn’t have parents who tried to drive a specific religion into me without choice. But I also didn’t have parents who cared enough about me to discuss exploring what faith I might believe in.

  Ever since I got here, I never thought about trying to believe in something or even pray. Everyone here worshipped Liora, but was Liora just someone created by the System? And if so, was the System itself… God?

  "In my world," I continued, choosing my words carefully, "people can't cast divine magic or see angels. There are writings about how those things used to happen, but those kinds of miracles don't occur now—or at least, I've never seen them."

  "So in my world, faith is defined as believing in something without any real proof of it being real," I explained. "It's trusting that there's something more than what we can see around us. When someone says they have faith in my world, they're saying they believe despite having no tangible evidence."

  I gestured around us. "But here in Seanair, it's completely different. Proof is everywhere. Divine magic flows through clerics' hands. Celestial beings appear when summoned. Gods answer prayers with tangible results." I shook my head, still marveling at the difference. "I'm not even sure what the word 'faithless' would mean in this world. How can someone not believe when the evidence is so obvious?"

  Duncan gave me a bitter smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Faithless in Seanair doesn't mean refusing to believe a deity exists," he said, his voice low and hollow. "Everyone knows the gods are real. You'd have to be blind or stupid to deny that."

  He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if remembering what it felt like to channel divine power. "Being faithless here means not believing they can be of help to you or the world. It means believing that prayers to them and efforts to spread their teachings are pointless because they can't change anything." He met my eyes with a haunted gaze. "Or at least, that's how I define 'faithless.'"

  The raw pain in his voice struck me like a physical blow. This wasn't just theological musing—this was a wound that hadn't healed.

  "Because of what happened to your father?" I asked gently.

  Duncan's laugh was hollow. "Partly. But it's more than that." He turned to face me, his blue eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "When I was a Holy Knight, I truly believed Liora cared about justice, about protecting the innocent. I devoted my life to those principles."

  He glanced down at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. "Then I watched the Heroes Party—champions blessed by Liora herself—murder my father for a sword. I saw them celebrated by the people and not suffer an ounce of justice for their misdeed. And through it all, Liora remained silent."

  "Maybe she couldn't interfere," I suggested, though the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.

  "That's what I told myself at first," Duncan said. "That there must be some greater plan I couldn't understand. That's what the priests always say, isn't it? 'The gods work in mysterious ways.'" His mouth twisted in disgust. "But eventually I had to face the truth: either Liora approves of what the Heroes Party is doing, or she's powerless to stop it. Either way, what good is she?"

  I felt a pang in my chest at Duncan's words. The raw pain in his voice reflected a struggle I understood all too well—the shattering of certainty, the collapse of everything you thought you knew. I'd experienced similar doubts when the Heroes Party betrayed me, that moment when my entire world turned upside down.

  I slowly reached for my neck and pulled at a chain, revealing the platinum holy symbol that had been hidden under my armor. The metal caught the candlelight, casting small reflections against the wall.

  "Maybe it was just coincidence that I found this right after the Heroes Party betrayed me," I said quietly, turning the symbol between my fingers. "But I'd like to think it was actually Liora giving me a helping hand."

  Duncan's eyes fixed on the holy symbol, his expression unreadable.

  "If I had to define my own belief in Liora," I continued, "it's that she's not some all-powerful being who controls everything. She's someone trying to nudge things in the right direction when she can. Small interventions at critical moments rather than grand gestures that rewrite reality."

  Duncan studied me for a long moment. "Are you saying I had too high expectations of Liora?" he asked. There was no anger in his voice, just genuine curiosity.

  I let the symbol fall back against my chest. "I think maybe there's a middle ground between absolute faith and zero expectations. Between believing she controls everything and thinking she can do nothing at all."

  The corners of Duncan's mouth twitched upward. Then, to my surprise, he let out a deep, genuine laugh that seemed to release some of the tension he'd been carrying. He reached over and gave me a hearty pat on the shoulder that nearly knocked me off my chair.

  "You know what we need?" he asked, standing up suddenly and pulling me to my feet. "A drink. Come on—the bar downstairs is still open."

  "Now?" I asked, slightly bewildered by his sudden shift in mood.

  "Now," he confirmed, already heading for the door. "Theological debates are best continued with ale in hand. It's practically a tradition."

  I couldn't help but smile as I followed him out the door and down the creaking wooden stairs.

  ***

  I stood rigidly behind Cardinal Stenvall, the disguise of a priest settling uncomfortably over my features. My Disguise Self ability had transformed me into the perfect image of a humble cleric—thinning gray hair, weathered face, and the characteristic stooped posture of someone who'd spent decades in prayer. Behind me, Duncan, Hellene, and Eva shuffled along in their baggy brown robes, hoods pulled low to conceal their identities. The backpacks they carried clinked softly with each step, filled with supplies that were merely our cover story.

  Sunveil Monastery loomed ahead, its stone walls gleaming golden in the late afternoon sun. The white marble dome at its center caught the light, making it appear as though the building itself was blessed by Liora. It would have been beautiful if we weren't about to commit what amounted to sacrilege.

  "Liora, forgive me for what I am about to do," Cardinal Stenvall murmured, his hands clasped tightly before him. "I beg your understanding and mercy."

  It was the third time he'd uttered this prayer since we'd left the city gates. Each repetition seemed to weigh heavier on him than the last.

  "I'm sure she will forgive you, considering what is at stake," I said quietly, trying to offer some comfort to the conflicted man.

  Eva snorted behind us. "Maybe she just won't care."

  The cardinal turned, giving Eva a sharp, reproving look that would have made most churchgoers tremble. Eva merely raised an eyebrow beneath her hood, completely unfazed.

  With a sigh, the cardinal turned back to the path ahead. He squared his shoulders and clasped his hands together, his face transforming as a serene smile settled across his features. The change was remarkable—in an instant, he went from a man torn by inner conflict to the very picture of divine tranquility.

  As we approached the monastery gates, a monk in simple brown robes stepped forward to greet us. His eyes widened in recognition as he spotted the cardinal, and he immediately dropped into a deep bow.

  "Your Eminence! What a blessed surprise to receive you at Sunveil," the monk exclaimed, his voice filled with reverence. "We had no word of your coming."

  "The light of Liora shines upon you, Brother," Cardinal Stenvall replied, his voice warm and measured. "I come with two purposes today. First, to deliver these supplies to the monastery." He gestured toward our group, where Duncan, Hellene, and Eva stood with their bulging backpacks. "And second, because I've heard the most fascinating rumors of a talking Moon Raven that has been seen here—a good omen sent by Liora herself."

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  The monk's face lit up with excitement. "Oh! Yes, Your Eminence, there is indeed a talking Moon Raven!" He gestured enthusiastically for us to follow him inside the courtyard.

  As we filed into the courtyard behind the monk, he suddenly cleared his throat awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his robe.

  "I should mention, Your Eminence, that the Moon Raven's words are... somewhat unusual." He lowered his voice as if sharing a secret. "It claims to bring great divine knowledge directly from Liora herself."

  "Divine knowledge?" Cardinal Stenvall's eyebrows rose with interest. "What sort of wisdom has it shared?"

  The monk's face flushed slightly. "Well, it spent nearly an hour explaining which berries are tastier when comparing blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries. According to the raven, this is essential knowledge from the goddess herself."

  I bit the inside of my cheek hard, struggling to maintain my priestly composure.

  A small choking sound came from Duncan, which he quickly disguised as a cough.

  "Then," the monk continued, his embarrassment growing, "it went on quite a lengthy rant about how squirrels shouldn't be trusted just because they're furry and cute. It insisted they often have evil intentions and are plotting against us all."

  Behind me, I could hear the unmistakable sound of Duncan and Hellene's shoulders shaking. A quick glance confirmed they were both struggling desperately to contain their laughter, their faces partially hidden by their hoods.

  "The bird ended its... sermon by questioning one monk after another about what they thought of its white feathers," our guide finished, "and preening with obvious pride whenever someone told it they looked beautiful."

  It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to burst out laughing. I kept my expression neutral, though my cheeks ached with the effort.

  Cardinal Stenvall, however, didn't betray even a hint of amusement. His years of public speaking clearly served him well as he nodded solemnly.

  "I am pleased to hear there are some truths to the rumors," he said with perfect dignity. "I would very much like to see this Moon Raven for myself and ascertain its link to Liora."

  As if summoned by his words, a flash of white caught my eye. Osirus swooped down from somewhere above us, his snow-white feathers gleaming in the sunlight as he landed gracefully atop the stone statue of Liora in the center of the courtyard.

  The monks around us immediately perked up with excitement, several of them abandoning their tasks to hurry closer. Osirus puffed out his chest, his glowing blue eyes surveying his audience with obvious satisfaction.

  Cardinal Stenvall turned to me, his expression still perfectly composed despite the absurdity of the situation. "Father, would you be so kind as to spread word to others inside the monastery? The Moon Raven has appeared again, and they should come outside to witness this blessing."

  I gave him a respectful nod. "Of course, Your Eminence."

  I moved quickly through the monastery's entrance, Duncan, Hellene, and Eva following close behind. We left the cardinal in the courtyard as he approached Osirus, his voice carrying faintly as he began questioning the raven about its divine purpose.

  Following Duncan's earlier instructions, I descended the stone stairs that led beneath the main floor. The cool air carried the scent of herbs and cooking food as I reached the bottom, finding myself in a long hallway just as Duncan had described. Torches flickered in iron brackets along the walls, casting dancing shadows on the worn stone floor.

  I spotted the kitchen doorway and peered inside. Two monks worked diligently at a wooden table, chopping vegetables for what appeared to be the evening meal. One was elderly with a fringe of white hair around his bald pate, while the other couldn't have been more than twenty, his movements eager but less practiced than his companion's.

  I straightened my back and adopted my most authoritative tone—the one I'd perfected when using my disguise power to be a noble. "Brothers, Cardinal Stenvall has arrived and wishes for everyone to come outside. The Moon Raven has made another appearance."

  The effect was immediate. The younger monk's face lit up with childlike excitement, his knife clattering to the table. "The Moon Raven is back?" Without waiting for confirmation, he bolted past us and up the stairs, his sandals slapping against the stone steps.

  The older monk continued chopping methodically, though his pace slowed. He raised his gaze to study us, his eyes lingering on the bulky backpacks my companions carried. There was a measured wariness in his expression that made my skin prickle.

  "Will you be joining us outside as well?" he asked, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp.

  I gestured to our backpacks with a practiced smile. "We'll come up shortly. The cardinal instructed us to deliver these supplies to your storage room first."

  The monk held my gaze for a moment longer before giving a slow nod. He set down his knife and pointed down the hallway. "The storage room is at the very end of this corridor."

  I thanked him with a slight bow of my head, the gesture feeling natural in my priestly disguise. The monk wiped his hands on his apron, gave us one final appraising look, then walked to the stairs and disappeared from sight.

  "That was too easy," Hellene muttered once the sound of his footsteps had faded. "I don't trust it."

  "We don't have much time," Duncan said, already striding down the corridor. "Everyone will be distracted by Osirus, but it won't last forever."

  I followed Duncan's lead, the others close behind. The hallway was longer than I expected, with several closed doors on either side. Duncan suddenly came to a stop, my face almost slapping against backpack.

  “This is the spot.”

  Years of being a scout instantly let me see it. A slight difference in brick coloring showed one section of the wall was not part of the original architecture.

  “And you were able to spot this on your own? Even I would have trouble noticing the irregularities of this wall,” Eva said, a slight hint of suspicion in her voice as she dropped her backpack on the ground and began removing her robes.

  As I willed my disguise to disappear, I silently thought the same thing. My heightened senses ability would have allowed me to see it, but Duncan didn’t have any abilities which would have helped here.

  The knight didn’t respond, simply removed his robes to show his gleaming armor and sword strapped to his side. He opened his backpack to do a double check of his supplies while Hellene did the same. Eva’s forehead wrinkled when she realized she wasn’t going to get an answer, but simply turned her attention to her backpack.

  Meanwhile I was feeling very guilty for the fact that I was the only one with a Inventory Box. No need to double check supplies. No need to even haul supplies around in a backpack. I was reminded of how a summoned Hero definitely had some sweet perks your normal adventurer didn’t get. At least in Hellene’s case she had a magical backpack which was always light as a feather when she carried it.

  The old records I read about the Reflecting Water Dungeon made it clear the travel time from the entrance to the dungeon boss took five days of traversing the dungeon. It made sense because I could clearly remember that the other Four Sigil dungeons I travelled in were much larger compared to other dungeons.

  As everyone checked their supplies, I pulled up a System window to see Status Effects.

  [Status Effects-

  Maim- Extreme physical disability which affects stats and abilities.

  Long Journey Blessing- A three day long blessing spell which grants 10% increase in HPs.

  Freedom Ward- A magical protection which makes one unrestrained by non-magical conditions such as bindings and sticky surfaces. Lasts one week.

  Squire’s Tattoo- A magical tattoo which grants 35% bonus experience when killing monsters.

  Phoenix Tattoo- A magical tattoo which supplies a protective guardian which looks out for you.]

  Back at the inn this morning there was an awkward conversation with Cardinal Stenvall who apologized profusely for not being able to restore my hand. It didn’t even cross my mind to ask him and I assured him it was fine. As a high level cleric there were a lot of buff spells he knew but there was one issue- most of them only lasted a couple of hours at the most.

  The Long Journey Blessing and Freedom Ward were the only divine spells he knew which would last days. Part of me wanted to ask him to join us to get the extra help in the dungeon. But I had to remind myself there were limits to how much help anyone was going to give when it came to defying the Heroes Party.

  If things went south and we were discovered by the Heroes Party, the cardinal could still get out of the mess without trouble since all that linked us to him was a few secret meetings and a couple of helpful spells. The odds of us coming out ahead were pretty bad so how could I blame him for not wanting to literally put his life on the line?

  As for Perth’s tattoos- it only created more questions in my mind about his class and powers. I had never run into a Spirit Painter before and apparently what they mostly did was of course paint. In our case, he painted two tattoos on our bodies, a Squire’s Tattoo which would give a experience boost and a Phoenix Tattoo.

  I was given a chance to give them a brief look in the mirror before we left, both on my back. One tattoo of a boy with a angelic face raising a sword in the air. The other of a bird made of fire with wings spread.

  I assumed the Phoenix Tattoo’s guardian was probably one of those ‘familiars’ I couldn’t sense, but Perth was rather closed mouthed on how it would help us when I asked. Just responded with a vague answer that it would give a ‘helping hand’. I was really getting tired of his mystery act he was putting on.

  Still though the Squire’s Tattoo was crazy amazing. Out of the three years as a Hero, I never once saw a spell or magic item which would literally boost experience gained.

  “Everyone all set to go?”

  I was jerked out of my thoughts by Eva’s words. Looking around, I saw everyone was geared up and looking at me expectantly. I felt my cheeks flush as I gave a nod. Party leaders weren’t supposed to daydream, I had to remember that.

  As I watched everyone finish their preparations, Eva stepped forward and pulled a small silver bell from her pouch.

  "Everyone get away from the wall," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

  We all took several steps back, watching as she approached the discolored section of bricks. With practiced precision, she held the bell aloft between her thumb and forefinger, giving it a single, delicate ring.

  The sound that emerged was nothing like a normal bell—instead of a clear chime, it released a haunting, ethereal tone that seemed to linger in the air. Immediately, the wall before us began to shimmer and change. Colors danced across the brickwork—purples, blues, and pinks swirling and melding together like oil on water. The effect was mesmerizing, almost beautiful, as the solid wall appeared to dissolve into pure light.

  Then came an explosion of sparkles that made me shield my eyes. When I lowered my arm, I found myself staring at a door that definitely hadn't been there before—a door the color of rich royal purple, its surface gleaming with an unnatural sheen.

  Eva tucked the bell away with one hand while the other reached for the ornate doorknob. Before turning it, she glanced back at us.

  "Cover your mouths," she warned. "The air inside will be stale—centuries old. It'll hit you hard if you breathe it in directly."

  I raised my arm and held it against my face, the smell of oiled leather filling my nostrils. Duncan followed suit with a cloth from his pack, while Hellene simply held a sleeve of her robe over her face.

  Eva turned the ornate knob and pulled. The door swung open with surprising ease, and immediately I felt a powerful rush of air. It was like standing in a wind tunnel—stale, ancient air billowed out while fresh air rushed in to replace it. The smell hit me like a physical blow—musty, thick with dust and decay, carrying hints of something I couldn't quite identify but instantly disliked.

  Despite my covered mouth, I couldn't help but cough as particles of dust assaulted my lungs. Everyone else was doing the same, bent double as we struggled to adjust to the assault on our senses.

  After a minute of painful adaptation, the worst of it passed. My eyes still watered, but at least I could breathe without feeling like I was inhaling sandpaper. Eva, recovering first, stepped confidently into the darkened passage beyond the door. I could see light crystals in the old passage, even now working after all these centuries.

  As we prepared to follow, I noticed Hellene's eyes fixed on Eva's pouch where she'd stashed the bell. The old enchanter's expression was calculating, almost covetous.

  "How interesting that your magic bell was made for a situation exactly like this," Hellene remarked, her voice slightly muffled by her sleeve. "Quite the convenient tool."

  Eva smirked, adjusting the strap of her quiver. "Many greedy nobles literally have their greatest treasures buried with them in underground sealed rooms at their manors because of some stupid belief that the said treasures would come with them to the afterlife. The bell was created by a Crafting Enchanter at the request of a thief who wanted to free those treasures from such greedy dead nobles."

  "Sounds like something similar to what happened in my world," I said, memories of Earth history surfacing. "In a place called Egypt with mummies."

  Duncan turned to me with a perplexed expression. "You had more than one mother? And how were they involved in this?"

  I felt heat rush to my face as I realized the misunderstanding. "No, that's not what I meant. Mummies are... it's complicated. I'll explain later."

  We continued down the dusty passage, our footsteps echoing against ancient stone. The air grew colder the further we went, and the magical light from wall crystals were dimmer compared to the ones before the door. Finally, the narrow corridor opened into a small chamber where a simple stone altar stood.

  It wasn't ornate or impressive—just a plain stone table with a carved statue of a fish in the center. On either side of the fish sat identical stone bowls, both empty and coated with centuries of dust.

  "This is it," Duncan whispered, his voice reverential in the silence.

  I quickly accessed my Inventory Box and summoned a wineskin of water. The others watched silently as I carefully poured water into both bowls, filling them to equal levels. Without speaking, I stepped back, giving Hellene room to approach.

  The half-elf enchanter moved forward with purpose, her white hair almost luminous in the dim light. She raised her staff, muttering an incantation under her breath. The water in the left bowl began to bubble and steam, quickly reaching a rolling boil that sent wisps of vapor curling toward the ceiling.

  Without pausing, Hellene shifted her attention to the right bowl. Another spell fell from her lips, and the water's surface crystallized before our eyes, freezing solid with a soft crackling sound.

  A loud click echoed through the chamber, making us all jump. We turned as one toward the right wall, where a section of stone was shifting. The wall moved backward several inches before sliding sideways, revealing a dark cave-like opening.

  "The entrance to the Reflecting Water Dungeon," Duncan whispered reverently.

  A cool, damp breeze wafted from the opening, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of water and stone. Unlike the stale air of the passage we'd traveled through, this air felt alive somehow, as if it were breathing.

  Eva glanced back at the purple door behind us. "Are you sure we'll be able to get out from the dungeon boss's room?"

  "I'm positive," I said, nodding with more confidence than I felt. "The records were clear that a magic portal will open once the boss is defeated. It'll take us directly outside."

  Eva seemed satisfied with my answer. She reached into her pouch and pulled out the silver bell again. With practiced precision, she gave it a single, delicate ring. The haunting tone filled the air, and the purple door behind us shimmered violently before exploding into a rainbow cascade of sparkles. When the magical light show faded, all that remained was an ordinary stone wall, indistinguishable from the rest of the passage.

  "Okay," I said, turning toward the dark opening that led to the dungeon. "Let's not waste any more time."

  And together we stepped inside the Reflecting Water Dungeon.