Rain (3)
And their divine authority is absolute. Praise the Juddak!
Now that my trade restrictions are lifted, I am finally a free man!
"Tee-hee."
Deep within an obscure, deserted alleyway, a muffled chuckle slipped from beneath the folds of a tattered robe. Because the coarse fabric wrapped from head to toe, discerning the wearer's identity was next to impossible, yet the faint silhouette betrayed clear hints: slender, slightly narrowed shoulders paired with the gentle curves of an unmistakably feminine figure. A stray lock of vivid orange hair spilling past the edge of the hood confirmed as much.
I'm so glad he's happy.
She smiled warmly as she gazed into the translucent Gallery window floating before her eyes. Wild Grylls, the registered user currently commanding unprecedented attention throughout the forum. Lifting his trade restrictions had sparked intense debate and controversy, yet the proposal had passed with an overwhelming majority vote. That outcome alone spoke volumes of the profound trust Grylls had fostered among the community.
He has never once broken a single promise.
She, too, had kept a close, vigilant eye on Grylls's movements. Waking up stranded in the deadly Forest of the Four Seasons was already astonishing enough, but he had continually uncovered all manner of mythical flora and fauna. Whenever lethal peril struck, he had overcome it through a combination of the forum's collective wisdom and his own sheer resourcefulness. With each passing day, he encountered increasingly bizarre beasts while gradually cultivating his own martial strength. It offered a mesmerizing, grounded survival drama—a brand of raw, desperate reality rarely witnessed in the Gallery.
Someone like Mr. Grylls would never abuse his trade privileges.
At his core, Grylls was a remarkably good-natured man. Even in an anonymous forum where malice ran rampant, he remained polite and never hurled insults unprovoked. When someone crossed the line first, his claws certainly came out, but those instances were rare exceptions. More than anything, he was trapped in the Forest of the Four Seasons. His entire existence revolved around mere survival, leaving no room for hidden agendas or sinister exploitation. He had even declared that the moment he escaped, he would voluntarily relinquish the special exemptions granted to him.
By nature, she was a rigid follower of principle. She detested shattering established frameworks unless absolutely necessary. Yet Grylls had appealed not for arbitrary equality, but for genuine fairness, presenting arguments steeped in undeniable logic. Most decisive was the unique environment of the forest itself, where only Grylls possessed the anomaly of accessing the Gallery. Thus, the Head Moderator, Don't Abandon the Hero, resolved to keep an even closer, protective watch over his journey.
And he gave me this, too.
Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved a smooth, spherical bead—the gift Grylls had sent her. Even if it bordered on an overt bribe for her administrative leniency, she had accepted it.
Are treasures like this truly lying scattered everywhere throughout the Forest of the Four Seasons?
She turned the sphere over in her palm, marvelling at its luster. The energy radiating from within was nothing short of extraordinary; any ordinary cultivator consuming it would undoubtedly achieve a staggering breakthrough in martial strength.
Though for me, it holds little transformative value.
To her, it served as little more than an extraordinarily potent mana replenishment potion. Whenever discussions turned to the singular strongest mortal beneath the heavens, her name inevitably led the discourse. She was the one blessed directly by the Goddess—the very blade forged by the Church to stand against the Demon Kings.
Asella, the Chosen Hero, studied the beast core for another moment before popping it into her mouth.
Consuming it immediately is far wiser than trying to sell it.
A beast's inner core gradually leaked its essence over time, and attempting to fence such a priceless treasure on the run invited unnecessary complications. With her own mana reserves scraping near bottom, swallowing it was by far the best choice.
"Phew..."
Asella exhaled a long, measured breath as the core's refined qi began circulating through her meridians. Pure mana flooded her depleted dantian, flushing out her lingering exhaustion in an instant. She had scarcely been able to close her eyes for a full night's rest lately, but this revitalizing surge would easily buy her more endurance.
When will this misunderstanding finally be cleared?
Asella cast a cautious glance beyond the alley's shadows. Unlike the damp, desolate corner where she sheltered, the main avenue teemed with vibrant pedestrian traffic. She could hear children laughing as they raced across the cobblestones, parents calling out gently for them to be careful, and the bustling hum of mundane daily life.
It seems they haven't caught up to this city just yet.
A quiet sigh of relief slipped past her lips. For the time being, she had a brief window of respite. Yet lowering her guard remained out of the question; one could never predict when the Church's inquisitors might descend upon her.
May the Goddess watch over me. This is surely born of a terrible misunderstanding...
Muttering silent prayers under her breath, she connected back to the Gallery interface. Within that extradimensional space, she was no longer a hunted Hero, but the Head Moderator. Though her time was scarce while fleeing pursuit, she carried out her administrative duties with unwavering diligence.
This, too, must be a sacred task bestowed upon me by the Goddess.
On the very day the Papacy branded her an 'apostate' and began hunting her down, the administrative authority of the Gallery had fallen into her hands the second she fled the cathedral's perimeter. Having lived her life oblivious to the forum's existence, she had initially been overwhelmed with bewilderment, but she had gradually adapted to the role. Of course, the horrific shock images occasional trolls dumped onto the boards were still profoundly distressing to stomach—so much so that every encounter sent her into fervent prayer for divine cleansing.
User Wild Grylls has requested a direct trade.
Do you wish to accept?
"Huh?"
Right as she was about to fulfill her moderator duties under divine guidance, an unexpected trade prompt flashed before her eyes. Wondering briefly if he had misclicked, Asella tapped the prompt to accept.
In stark contrast to her grim, fugitive reality, Asella maintained her bright, earnest persona online. She tilted her head, curious as to what else he could possibly offer. He had already sent her a beast's inner core mere moments ago, leaving him with little else to spare.
It was neither a flattering gift nor a calculated bribe, but pure, unadulterated goodwill. Asella blinked, caught entirely off guard by a kindness she had rarely experienced—even within the chaotic halls of the Gallery. What kind of place was this forum, after all? A digital battleground where users spent their days clawing at each other's throats or venting their worst impulses. Even with her absolute administrative powers, the Head Moderator frequently became everyone's favorite punching bag whenever tempers flared. There were times when malicious users bombarded her with grotesque shock images, leaving her on the verge of abandoning everything in despair.
How strange...
Even so, the authority of the Head Moderator was vast. That was an indisputable fact. Because of this, users frequently attempted to flatter her, seeking personal favors or preferential treatment. When left unchecked, such favoritism inevitably devolved into toxic cliques and widespread corruption. Plenty of catastrophic forum dramas had erupted from precisely that pattern. Courting favor through gifts was typically the textbook first step toward establishing such nepotism, yet...
Mr. Grylls couldn't possibly form an offline clique with me anyway, could he?
He was marooned in the Forest of the Four Seasons. No matter how close they grew over the screen, physical favoritism in the real world remained a structural impossibility. Thus, Asella could accept his gesture for what it truly was: raw, uncorrupted kindness. A genuine warmth that was difficult to find in the Gallery, and virtually nonexistent in her cold reality.
Grumble...
Right on cue, her empty stomach let out a hollow, plaintive protest. Asella hesitated, weighing the dilemma before finally yielding.
This, too, must be... the Goddess's divine provision, right?
The moment she finalized the trade, a wooden skewer materialized directly into her palm. Pierced onto the stick were three thick, golden-seared fillets of fish, their glistening juices shimmering warmly in the dim alley light. The appetizing aroma alone made her mouth water.
"...Nom."
Without further hesitation, Asella took a delicate bite. The savory burst of coarse salt greeted her palate first, followed immediately by a rich, fatty, melt-in-the-mouth sweetness. There wasn't a single trace of fishy bitterness. Instead, a savory depth rivaling the finest red meats washed over her tongue, drawing an involuntary smile to her lips.
It's delicious!
It was genuinely, shockingly good. Consuming such a hearty meal on a starving stomach only amplified the exquisite flavor, sending waves of revitalizing warmth rippling straight to her fingertips.
"Munch, munch! Nom!"
Her eyes sparkling with delight, Asella polished off the remaining two fillets in record time. While three skewers were hardly enough to completely fill an elite warrior's appetite, it mattered little. The sheer novelty of receiving unconditional kindness filled her spirit with an invigorating sense of fullness.
What a pity there isn't more.
Licking her lips with lingering regret, she returned to the chat window with a noticeably brighter expression.
He truly is a wonderful person, Asella thought, her chest swelling with warmth. Yet even such a fundamentally good man possessed one glaring, tragic flaw: his utter absence of religious faith.
On several prior occasions, Grylls had casually committed shocking acts of blasphemy. Had he uttered those remarks in the outside world rather than behind an anonymous screen, the inquisitors would have arrested and executed him as a dangerous heretic on the spot. Asella had warned him in horror back then, but he had brushed her admonitions aside like buzzing flies.
It is precisely during trials like this that one requires unyielding faith...
As the chosen Hero, her devotion to the Goddess matched even that of the Pope himself. Though she was now branded an apostate and hunted through the shadows, her holy faith had never wavered for a single heartbeat.
Yes. Perhaps this is the perfect moment to guide his soul.
Grylls had suffered immensely, and his grueling ordeal was still ongoing. Asella knew that pain intimately; she had been born an orphan and endured endless cruelty before Goddess Aris's grace elevated her into the Hero. She firmly believed that faith was the ultimate anchor against suffering—that adversity was the very crucible where devotion shone brightest.
Grylls remained utterly incorrigible. He possessed not even a microscopic speck of desire to revere a deity. To Asella, such an attitude was baffling beyond measure. This was a world where gods demonstrably existed. To dismiss them so flippantly crossed past eccentricity straight into the bizarre.
One occasionally encountered mortals who challenged heaven, daring the gods to strike them down if they truly existed. But Grylls belonged to an entirely different breed. He fully accepted their divine existence, yet harbored deep-seated resentment toward them anyway. It was a contradiction so jarring that Asella couldn't tell whether he was a believer or an infidel.
His answer was crisp, decisive, and left Asella's mind completely blank. I hate gods, but I don't hate people. What could that possibly mean? At first blush it sounded like an absurd paradox, yet if one drew a strict boundary between humanity and the divine, it carried a strange, unshakeable coherence. As she struggled to untangle her thoughts, another message popped up.
"Eek!"
Asella gasped, whipping her head around in frantic terror as if terrified someone had overheard. While only the user could perceive their private Gallery screen, who could say whether an omniscient deity was observing this very exchange from above?
W-What terrifying blasphemy...! What on earth is he thinking?!
Her eyes trembled violently as she stared at the chat log. Cursing the divine was as natural to him as breathing. If heavenly lightning blasted him into cinders right this second, he wouldn't have a leg to stand on.
B-But in a twisted way, that too is a form of faith...!
Believing in a god solely to have a target for his resentment. Paradoxically, that still constituted belief. The only problem was that it was a faith steeped in pure irreverence. For the life of her, Asella could not wrap her head around it.
Pitter-patter...
A heavy drop of water splashed against her hood, snapping her from her daze. Looking up, she saw dark, swollen storm clouds blanketing the sky as fat raindrops began drizzling down over the alleyway.
I should seek shelter from the rain first.
She pulled her hood tighter and began walking. Yet her mind remained utterly captivated by Grylls's parting words. I hate gods because I don't want to hate other human beings. The sentiment struck like a physical brand against her soul.
He truly is an incomprehensible man.
Setting aside his bizarre philosophy, however...
An eccentric, bewildering, yet remarkably kind person.
The memory of his warm gift left her heart feeling pleasantly full.
SHWAAAAAAAAAA!
"Ah, seriously."
Did the skies open up again simply because I had cursed out the heavens earlier? Rain poured down in violent torrents outside the shelter. Leaning against the wooden frame, I glared out into the sheet of gray downpour and muttered under my breath.
If they're really making it rain over that, they're narrower than a minnow's gut.
BOOM-CRACKLE!
The very instant the thought crossed my mind, a deafening roar of thunder shook the entire forest.