0.......

Quick note: This time, it was my fault. I hit a writing block in the middle of this chapter, got stuck between two ideas, and had to rewrite it a few times. The good thing about all this is that I managed to bring back an old idea I thought I wouldn't be able to use.

Oh, and this chapter is longer than usual to make up for the delay.

Next chapter: February 23rd. I already have it ready, so this one won't be late.

Well, have a good Night and enjoy the read!

[...]---[...]

Normally, I would have cracked a joke or something as I climbed the stairs inside the chain. But the last discovery had completely killed whatever humor I had for the moment.

Saying that my face was closed off would be an understatement. I climbed the stairs step by step, not bothering to rush; nor did I pay much attention to the windows that lined the way, showing the view outside. I only glanced at them, watching as the desert grew distant, the sand dunes shrank, and the massive anthill hole became smaller as I ascended.

The chain's stability was impressive—I didn't feel the slightest sway, even while climbing so high...

Deceiving the guards wasn't complicated. The one in charge of the stamp was already mentally unstable due to the hallucinations I had imposed on him. Distinguishing reality from illusion became a difficult task when all your recent memories felt like they had come from a fever dream.

The guard would be as good as new after a proper night's sleep—I made sure of it.

My gaze fell to the back of my right hand, where the mark of an upside-down pyramid with a nine-pointed crown was stamped in golden ink. It was fake. That disgusting ink would never touch my skin again.

It was simple enough to take the guard's stamp and copy it, using a piece of wood and Shadowflame to burn an identical engraving. The ink was just some random golden one I had inside the VoidBag—I picked the one that most closely matched the tone of that vile thing.

I had no doubt that, if someone inspected it closely, they would realize it was fake. The guard had mentioned that the shops had some sort of verification system, but that didn't really matter. It was just a superficial measure to keep anyone from questioning why I was the only one without that mark while I decided what to do with this city...

("It's going to rain. The sea inside is restless.") Ozma's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"I am. The sea reflects that." I responded. My Spiritual Realm mirrored what I felt.

The spiritual camera was on. The man stood on the balcony of the beach house, staring at the restless sea. Wave after wave crashed against each other and onto the shore, and the sky above the waters was covered in gray rain clouds, even though it had yet to start raining.

I frowned and came to a stop on the step I was on. The sea reminded me of Terraria's, the clouds, those of a storm...

I took a few deep breaths as I willed the clouds to disperse and the waters to calm. This world was mine—it would obey me. I only resumed walking once the sea had settled and the clouds had vanished, giving way to a clear blue sky.

("I imagine this 'The Brain' is something similar to 'The Eye.' Both appeared in the MoonBite description. How bad is our situation?")

"Bad enough that I'm tempted to burn this entire city to ashes." It wouldn't be that hard. "That, or throw it into the anthill and bury everything until nothing remains but an empty desert."

Ozma was silent for a moment. The (CHAT) seemed incredulous at my response.

("Genocide isn't your style. The people of this kingdom are innocent; they have no idea what the ink marking their skin is made of.")

"I'm fully aware of that."

("And yet, you said it.") He pointed out. His voice was more curious than anything else. ("Why?")

"Death is preferable to whatever that ink is going to end up doing to the residents of Shahrabad." Something inside me was sure of that. My body had reacted the same way in Jille. "If it isn't already, of course..."

Looking back, everyone had the mark somewhere on their body—one on the neck, another on the palm of the hand. Even those I hadn't seen… the chance was high that they had one too.

I should have analyzed one of the guards. It was stupid of me not to. I clicked my tongue, considering going back down the chain, but I discarded the idea. I could analyze any of the city's residents once I reached the top.

("Are you afraid you won't be able to cure the residents? That wasn't a problem in Jille.")

"No, it wasn't... But Jille was something relatively recent. A few months at most..." Not to mention that the ink's materials in Jille came from Crimson creatures, not from something touched by the Brain itself. "But here? They've been marked for years."

The guard had no reason to lie to me, and he said this mark was created after the attack on the eastern chain, something that happened years ago. The residents of this city had been marked with that disgusting ink for years...

The Purification Powder might be enough, especially since it was made by Alalia herself—who was leagues above anything Dylan had ever produced. I also had Shadowflame and Sun Breathing, not to mention Alalia herself, but...

"My fear isn't that I won't be able to cure them, Ozma. It's that there might not be a way to cure them at all."

With the Eye, it was like that—after a while, its 'disease' became irreversible. I wouldn't be surprised if ink made from something that damned Brain personally touched worked the same way.

… I couldn't cure a person if the cure required removing their brain.

[…]

Upon reaching the top of the chains, it was just as the guard on the ground had said—there were guards up here for an inspection. A much larger group than below, better armed, and they seemed more trained, stronger...

Which was a bit strange…

...They didn't even see me pass.

"Did you see something?" One of the guards nudged his colleague with his elbow while looking around, confused. "I swear I saw a shadow in the corner of my eye or something."

"No, I didn't see anything." The other replied, running a hand in front of his helmet, only to frown a moment later, both irritated and confused. "Damn hair... I'm cutting this thing off later. It's not the first time it's fallen in front of my eyes, even with it tied up."

"I told you to cut it. Your hair looks like a bird's nest." Another guard mocked before responding to the first: "I didn't see anything either. You must be hallucinating. Go sit down for a bit and drink some water. The enchantment on the armor helps, but the sun is still the sun."

I paid no more attention to the conversation as I distanced myself from the entrance.

The moment I passed the guards and 'officially' entered the city, a stream screen popped up in front of me, as if it had been waiting for me to step inside Shahrabad to give me the mission I was already starting to think wouldn't show up.

-//-

[Emergency Mission (Worldwide) - (Chain Mission - Parallel)]

Mission Name: Shahrabad isn't as prosperous as it seems...

Description: Heat has never been the deadliest thing in the desert; its creatures have always held that title. The sands have always been stained red, but never before have they reeked of decay as much as now...

Shahrabad has always been the haven amidst the sea of yellow grains, a floating fortress never shaken, a bastion amid the sands, whose fall was once unimaginable… But what happens when those seeking to bring down this paradise are far more cunning than the beasts lurking beneath the surface?

… But what if the threat comes from within?

Objective: Uncover what's happening in the desert. Prevent the fall of Shahrabad.

Reward: Life Crystal (5), Mana Crystal (5), ???, ???, ???, ???.

[..]

Secondary Objective (1): Prevent the birth and creation of ??? (Top Priority!)

Reward: ???, ???.

Secondary Objective (2): Find a way to purge the "Nine-Tailed Crown Mark" from the inhabitants of Shahrabad.

Reward: ??? or ???

Secondary Objective (3): Cure ???, ???, ???, and ??? before the activation of the "Nine-Tailed Crown Mark".

Reward: ??? or ???

Secondary Objective (4): ???

Reward: ??? ou ???

Secondary Objective (5): ???

Reward: ??? ou ???

Secondary Objective (6): ???

Reward: ???

Secondary Objective (7): ???

Reward: ???

Secondary Objective (8): ???

Reward: ???

Secondary Objective (9): ???

Reward: ???

[...]

Note: The Antlion Queen has felt what you did. She fears you.

-//-

Even the most basic reward said a lot about this mission—five Life Crystals and five Mana Crystals. But what truly caught my attention were the secondary objectives.

Anything involving the Crimson that had the word "birth" in it was already bad, and the stream even put "highest priority" next to it?...

"This is not going to be born." I wouldn't allow it, whatever it was.

The word "purge" instead of "cure" in the second secondary objective wasn't a good sign either. Not to mention that the mission rewards were split with an "or" in the middle. Two paths. One of them didn't seem to end well...

At least the third secondary objective was about healing four people, so a cure was still possible. I just had to find these people in the middle of this not-so-small city. That is, if they were even in Shahrabad to begin with.

As for the Antlion Queen noticing what I did, that was expected. Not only had I killed a ridiculous number of ants in just a few seconds, but the tornado I created had been pretty massive. Her noticing me was the least of my concerns. Either way, I'd be jumping into her anthill soon enough.

It was actually strange that none of the guards at the base of the chain had said anything about the tornado, now that I thought about it...

As I pushed the mission window aside and looked around, a message appeared in front of me, floating as if carried by a gentle breeze before becoming static in midair.

[AdvocateOfGenderEquality]

I'm no expert in anatomy, biology, or whatever this falls under, but why does that snake-woman have breasts? And huge ones at that? I'm not complaining or anything, but snakes are reptiles, and they're not mammals...

(Emote of a generic guy with binoculars)

I blinked twice, reading the message.

"That... That's actually a good question." Not that I had an answer, of course.

But the woman Kazuma mentioned also caught my attention, though for a different reason than his: she was a lamia.

Her upper body was that of a woman, with dark skin and blonde hair, along with purple eyes—the same color as the scales covering the lower half of her body, which was that of a massive snake, about two meters long.

She wore a large parasol hat adorned with what looked like silk, the same fabric as her clothing, which consisted of an embroidered top with golden details, fitted to her chest, and a translucent veil that draped from her head, covering her face down to her shoulders, held in place by thin chains and small, shimmering pendants, which she also wore on her wrists.

I looked at her briefly before shifting my gaze away. I knew this species existed in Terraria, but it was the first time I had actually seen one.

Shahrabad, in fact, seemed to be home to several species—if I could even call them that—that the kingdom didn't have.

I glanced around as I walked: aside from the lamias, which I saw occasionally—by far the vast majority being women, though I had seen a man here and there—there were also what seemed to be lizardmen and lizardwomen—if that was even the right term—as well as many more reptilian beastkins and, surprisingly, birds.

They weren't flying, but there were harpies. All of them women. I didn't see a single male of the species walking around. They didn't have hands but rather three-fingered talons at the tips of their wings, which had feathers in a variety of colors. I saw some sky blue, others light brown, some green with white... The variety was as vast as that of birds.

Their legs were also bird-like, ending in talons similar to their hands. Some even had feathers in place of eyebrows. I didn't see any with a beak, but I wouldn't be surprised if I did.

Curiously, the same thing that applied to the lamias applied to the harpies. I had no idea why they had breasts.

And could it be…?

[(MOD)GeniusBillionairePlayboy]

I thought it, you thought it. Take one for the team and go ask one of them if they lay eggs, DS. If you get beaten up or labeled a pervert, I'll cover your bail.

(Emote of Iron Man scratching his chin)

[Neopolitan]

Bird faunus don't lay eggs, I asked. Neither do snake ones. Maybe it's different there?…

(Emote of a Chibi Neo frying eggs)

[TheBestAndMostBeautifulThief]

Yes, she wanted to try eating one of the eggs, thankfully an infertile one, thanks to whatever deity exists out there. Yes, she didn't believe the people who answered. Yes, she didn't want to check the CCT to confirm. Yes, she went to personally verify the answer and, yes, unfortunately, that caused me a lot of unnecessary trouble.

[BlakeHuntressLive]

... I never thought that I, of all people, would say or type this, but I actually feel sorry for you, Roman…

AND GET THIS GNOME OUT OF MY DORM ROOM!

[TheBestAndMostBeautifulThief]

No.

[Neopolitan]

No.

The messages appeared one by one in front of me before a small sand tornado formed and carried them away, vanishing soon after.

… I wonder if harpy or lamia eggs taste good?

I shoved that thought to the back of my mind, shifting my focus away from the population and onto the city's architecture.

The streets were made of polished stone, almost white—marble, probably, or something close to it. Most of them were straight, including their curves. The main roads, where vehicles passed—some pulled by horses, others by camels, and a few by the ostriches I had seen earlier—followed an organized pattern.

The streets between the buildings, made of a material similar to the roads but in a more yellowish and orange tone, with a sandier texture to the touch, were more curved, winding like serpents.

It didn't take me long to notice that the main streets followed a straight pattern toward the city center, while the secondary streets formed a kind of stitching between them.

The vegetation around wasn't as abundant as I had expected. There were still plants here and there—along the center of large roads, separating them in two, at the corners of buildings, and in plazas and parks—both for decoration and to improve the air and environment of the city, but it was less than one would expect for a city in the middle of the desert.

Even so, the air wasn't as hot and stifling as the desert below the city—not only because Shahrabad floated hundreds of meters above the ground but also thanks to the arrays of Mystic Symbols spread in an efficient pattern, following the layout of the streets.

It was pleasant, not that the desert environment wasn't, at least to me.

Some arrays were for air purification, others for humidity control, others for cooling and circulation. There were even heating arrays—these larger and on the ground—located in plazas and open spaces, where the pavement was made of a type of black stone. In almost all these places, lamias, lizardmen, lizardwomen, and reptilian beastkins gathered, eating, chatting, or simply relaxing outdoors.

One thing I noticed—and had, unfortunately, expected—was that every person, regardless of race, gender, or age, bore the same mark: an upside-down pyramid with a nine-pointed crown above it.

Not everyone displayed the mark openly, of course. Most seemed to prefer having it on the backs of their hands, shoulders, or the area above their chest, but some bore it on their legs, calves, and shins, or, in the case of lamias, on their tails, usually near the tip. Many harpies also had the mark stamped on their wings, near their shoulders.

Those who didn't show the mark weren't hard to identify. Even if it was hidden, I could still perceive it—I could feel it.

At first, I didn't feel anything, but after that disgusting ink touched my skin, my perception sharpened. It was like when someone ignores a stain on a surface or a smudge on glass—until they notice it, and then they can't unsee it.

I became more sensitive to its faint yet pungent smell: a strange, unpleasant mix of something metallic and organic, blending into a single, oddly sweet odor. On top of that, its mana was distorted, standing out from the mana of all the marked living beings. It almost seemed to pulse.

I had to hold back the Shadowflame, which was practically growling, wanting to burn every mark created by that ink. The real ones, at least. Some of the marks were fake—not because people were doing the same thing as me, but because they were just tattoos, not stamps.

The upside-down pyramid with the nine-pointed crown seemed to be the city's symbol, something the population took pride in, as many had it tattooed on their skin. Tattoos, in general, seemed far more common here than in the kingdom. In just a few minutes, I had seen more tattoos than in my entire time in the kingdom.

Of course, some tattoos were actually made with the same disgusting ink, but those looked much newer, freshly done, and not faded at all.

I walked through the crowd at a slow pace, my attention scattered between the people, the buildings, and the Minimap. No orange dots had appeared, just the usual occasional yellow ones.

I could hear bits of conversation here and there about the "fire spirit attack," as some called it, or "the desert's revenge." Apparently, my hurricane had been spotted, but only from the top of the city due to the distance.

People were theorizing about what it was. Some said it was the desert itself taking revenge on the ants that had thrown nature off balance; others claimed it was the wrath of the spirits—which, in the end, was basically the same as the first theory, except instead of the sands attacking on their own, it was the spirits commanding them.

No one seemed truly terrified. Worried? Yes. My attack had been colossal, but because the hurricane lacked heat, had a bright glow, and didn't actually harm anyone except the ants—which people had seen moving in the distance—few were genuinely concerned.

At least, the general population wasn't. I had no idea about the heads running the kingdom. If they were shitting themselves in fear, thinking I was someone sent by the kingdom, that wouldn't be a bad thing either.

I just wanted to understand why no one had theorized that it was the work of a high-level contractor instead of some kind of divine retribution or something…

I took the opportunity to brush against a few people and use Analyze: Item, touching their shoulders and stepping away before they noticed.

What the mark did wasn't exactly what I expected, but it was just as bad. Maybe worse, actually.

[Current Status: … Brain Root: the root of a tree whose seed hasn't even sprouted (Medium) (Inactive)]

The fact that it was "Medium" and not "High-Extreme" gave me some relief. The description of what this debuff did? Not so much. It made my skin crawl.

-//-

[Brain Root: the root of a tree whose seed hasn't even sprouted]

Type: Debuff/Parasite.

Description: Both a parasite and a debilitating effect, it symbolizes potential cut off before it could even sprout. Corrupted to create not a sprout, but a birth.

Brain Root is an accumulation of minuscule instances of gray and white brain matter from a cultist personally touched by "The Brain," contained within "Ichor Ink" and absorbed through the skin of those who come into contact with it.

The small amount of brain matter present in the ink travels through the bloodstream, depositing fragments in the inner layers of veins. Most of it, however, makes its way to the brain, where it accumulates into small spheres along the prefrontal cortex.

In its inactive state, Brain Root does not present harmful effects on the body. On the contrary, it may even make the host feel more energetic and cheerful, as well as cause a slight unconscious urge to crave more of the brain matter contained in "Ichor Ink," functioning as a mild addiction.

When activated, Brain Root grows thorns that connect to the host's brain, controlling their critical thinking, planning, decision-making, impulses, and instincts—especially those related to survival.

The brain matter particles deposited in the host's veins begin coagulating the blood, thickening it while preventing any heart attacks caused by this effect.

The thickened blood leads to bruising all over the body, swelling, and infections that generate excessive pus. This pus can leak through boils or enter the bloodstream, eventually being expelled through the nearest orifice. The final stage includes widespread necrosis.

Brain Root significantly increases the host's physical regeneration, preventing their immediate death until its goal is fulfilled.

Brain Root's ultimate objective is to guide controlled hosts to the "Flesh Seed," using their bodies as soil, sustenance, and roots—ultimately transforming them into a second womb for the Flesh Seed's final birth as a "Rot World Tree (Crimson)."

[..]

Effects:

(When inactive):

Subtle increase in productivity.

Subtle increase in happiness.

Moderate increase in libido.

Subtle increase in regeneration (Health).

Subtle increase in regeneration (Mana).

(When active):

Completely prevents body control.

Completely prevents thought control.

Large increase in regeneration (Health).

Large decrease in regeneration (Mana).

Internal bleeding.

Blood clots.

Stroke.

Memory loss.

Boil formation.

Necrosis.

Excessive pus production.

Corruption of body cells.

Mutation of body cells.

[..]

Brain Root can be acquired under the following conditions:

Constant and prolonged contact with "Ichor Ink."

Constant and prolonged contact with fluids from someone infected with "Brain Root (Inactive)."

Contact with the blood of a body fully infected with "Brain Root (Active)."

Ingesting the blood of a body fully infected with "Brain Root (Active)."

Blood from a Creeper (Brain) entering an open wound.

Consuming the flesh of a Creeper (Brain).

Presence in contact with "The Brain."

Prolonged stay in The Crimson biome.

-//-

I struggled to keep my expression from twisting into anything other than disgust, revulsion, and sheer repulsion. I stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the crowd flow around me like a river splitting around a stone.

Just imagining the scene this bizarre thing would create upon activation made my urge to burn this city and everyone in it grow even stronger.

Even more so after reading that one of its effects was a considerable increase in libido—when one of the methods of infection was constant contact with the fluids of an already infected person.

A debuff, a parasite, an STD, and a cancer, all in a single entity, present on the skin of every damn person in this city!

I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. I slowed my pace and used this time to read the messages popping up in front of me.

[TheBestAndMostBeautifulThief]

I'm gonna throw up a little over here and be right back, okay?

(Emote of a thief vomiting into a trash can)

[AsuraLady]

I previously said that burning the island should be the last resort. Well, move that option up a bit, please.

(Emote of a pink-maned lion looking utterly disgusted)

[(MOD)RedHuntressLive]

DISGUSTING! DISGUSTING! DISGUSTING! DISGUSTING! DISGUSTING!

[(MOD)GeniusBillionairePlayboy]

What the fuck is this, man?! That eye was already completely bizarre and nightmare-inducing, but this shit is downright unbearable. What kind of sick mind came up with this?!

(Emote of Iron Man loading gel into flamethrowers)

[AdvocateOfGenderEquality]

Thank you, God, for making sure this shit doesn't exist in my world! If I've ever complained about anything in life, I take it all back!

(Emote of a generic guy thanking the heavens)

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]

I've talked to Greek gods, seen diseases from all over the world, seen diseases caused by Greek gods, and even then, I'm absolutely revolted just from the description of this thing. The fact that this ink is named after the blood of the Greek gods says a lot too. Disgusting!

(Emote of a devil magical girl with a green face)

[BrowCranwen]

Who would have thought that creatures of darkness, made of pure evil, would be something I'd actually be grateful for instead of the things I've seen in this stream? I'm gonna die without having lived or seen half of what exists.

(Emote of a crow drinking alcohol, saying "Damn, life is confusing")

[TohsakaHeiress]

Killing these people isn't even murder, it's a public service. Cure them or burn them, but for the love of God, don't let this thing activate, let alone germinate that seed!

(Emote of a chibi Rin with a green face and a hand over her mouth)

[JustAnOrdinaryPeasant]

Lord, thank you for the deliverance, and may you help those tormented souls. Amen!

Even with this miserable news, I still found some amusement in the (CHAT) messages, especially the ones thanking whatever god they worshipped that this abomination didn't exist in their world.

And Serafall was right: the fact that this ink had "Ichor" in its name said a lot… Damn, that's nasty.

("Contractors don't have more mana than civilians, do they?") Ozma's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"In most cases? Yeah. Why?" I replied as I started walking again. Where was he going with this?

("Devas, one of Brain Root's effects is to reduce mana regeneration when active. There's a chance mana resists it. Contractors have more mana, meaning they might have a higher resistance to Brain Root.")

"Probably." I agreed before furrowing my brows as realization hit me. "Something's not adding up. That's obvious. Whoever created this thing must have noticed it too."

("The guard said there was a removal formula. There must be a limit to the amount of brain mass each ink stamp can affect, which would be enough for civilians to get infected—even if it takes months—but what if the mark was removed and reapplied multiple times?")

He didn't need to finish his sentence.

"Contractors take on a lot of missions, don't they? Most of them must be outside the island…" I let out a dry laugh. What a joke.

I didn't even need to ask anyone to know that it was mandatory to remove the mark whenever someone left the kingdom, just as it was mandatory to be marked when entering. Not to mention that there was probably a 'Mark Renewal' every few months or weeks.

Honestly, I couldn't even entirely blame Alalia and the kingdom for this. The dryad was practically blind and deaf to everything that was happening. The bastards behind this had put more than enough effort into hiding from her, probably out of fear.

Helena and Charlotte also wouldn't have any reason to suspect anything happening in Shahrabad. Every bit of information they received said everything was fine, and they probably trusted the people in charge here.

Not that they were completely blameless, of course, but at this point, I'd come to terms with how useless they seemed. It was as if the cultists—or whoever the hell was behind this—were always ten or twenty steps ahead of them, as if…

…These bastards have some kind of clairvoyance better than Alalia's, don't they? Shit! It was obvious!

It must be something related to that abomination on the moon, for sure… And, interestingly, things started going wrong the moment I arrived in Terraria, didn't they? The stream also, conveniently, blocked any kind of clairvoyance and fate manipulation—which that thing on the moon could probably control, right?…

…How magnificent!

Something also tells me that Alalia's vision of the 'Hero' saving the world wasn't really a fifty-fifty chance, with him failing and the world being destroyed, but rather a one in a million… or worse…

I let out a long, slow, deep sigh. I rubbed my face with the palm of my hand while mumbling:

"This world was doomed, wasn't it?…"

[…]

As I moved through the city, I made my way toward its center.

No one noticed me, not even a glance aside from the occasional passing look that happened by chance. People normally didn't pay attention to passersby, too focused on whatever they were doing—a conversation, a thought, or simply reaching their destination.

This, along with a subtle use of my nightmare energy, ensured that I was nothing more than a face in the crowd. Or rather: a nobody, faceless, lost among the masses, never even registering in their thoughts.

Maybe, if they focused on the memory of that exact moment, they could find my silhouette lingering in the corner of their vision. But I doubted they would. There was no reason to, after all. No motive: I was a nobody.

It didn't take me long to reach the heart of the city. Like the rest of it, a beautiful place.

At the center of Shahrabad, a grand bazaar buzzed with life, silk-colored tents housing merchants and their wares. A variety of goods: aromatic spices, hand-embroidered fabrics, gemstone-encrusted jewelry—not all real, I noticed with just a glance—and gleaming metal lamps. Some truly silver, a few gold-plated, many brass and steel, none solid gold.

"A lively place. Beautiful too," I commented. It was different from what I was used to.

The environment wasn't bad. If it weren't for all the problems this city and desert kept throwing at me, I could see myself enjoying the moment more.

("Reminds me a bit of Vacuo in its early days. Not that the city was floating, of course.") Ozma's voice came a moment later, sounding slightly nostalgic and amused.

The air was thick with the scent of incense, blending with the aroma of grilled meats—common ones like pork, beef, and chicken, but also exotic ones like scorpions, scarabs, and snakes. I saw many lamias eating the latter, choosing it over the others.

At the very center of the city—a vast circular space—stood a grand water fountain, seemingly made of marble, covered in intricate Mystic Symbols painted in golden hues across its entire structure.

I analyzed the water too. It was clean. Actually, I was analyzing everything I touched in this city, especially the food I bought. None of it was 'infected' with that disgusting ink or anything related to the brain. Thankfully—and strangely, for that matter.

(Maybe putting something in the water and food would increase the chances of their plan being discovered?)

"Probably. The taste of brain residue in the food would be way too obvious," I replied as I stepped into one of the paint shops. "Not to mention the rot."

I went to the most luxurious one I could find after asking for some information. The look the clerk gave me when she saw my casual beach clothes was completely different from the one she gave me when I pulled out a few hundred royal gold coins.

I considered asking for a different clerk just so she wouldn't get a commission, but I wasn't petty enough to do that to someone who basically had AIDS 2 in their body.

I spent some time buying all sorts of plants and materials for paint that I could find. Some were genuinely high-quality, especially the Strange Plants, which, according to Analyze: Item, were insanely useful for various types of paints.

There was even a catalog in the store that listed which plant was best for each type of material and paint. There was also a book about paints, written by some famous author with an overly complicated name. I bought one of those too. Not that I planned to follow it to the letter, but it wouldn't hurt to read what someone who wrote a whole book on paint had to say about making it.

Of course, other people's experience was only useful up to a certain point, and the only people whose help I would truly accept in anything involving paints were Dylan, Helena, or someone from (CHAT), especially Snape. But it could be useful, and I wasn't short on money.

As I was practically clearing out the store, something curious happened: one of the dots on the Minimap randomly turned green. At this point, I wasn't even sure if that was a good or a terrifying thing. This city was completely messed up—I couldn't be sure of anything.

Even more curious was the fact that this green dot on the Minimap was wandering around aimlessly at high speed, going in and out of shops as if searching for something or someone. It covered almost a third of the entire city—at least the surface level, not the platforms around the pyramid—before changing direction.

Whoever it was, they suddenly sped toward the center of Shahrabad, dodging the other dots on the Minimap with expert precision. I had already finished my shopping and was sitting on a bench, admiring the scenery while waiting to see if this had anything to do with me or not.

It did. It always did. I don't even know why I bothered expecting otherwise.

The owner of that green dot was a woman. She looked like she was in her late twenties, maybe pushing thirty. Her hair was long and curly—not as much as Charlotte's, who had one of the longest heads of hair I had ever seen—but it reached down to the middle of her back, maybe a bit lower, just above her ass.

The color was similar to the princess's hair: pink. But unlike Charlotte's light shade, hers was a vibrant hot pink. It wasn't dyed—I could see her roots; they were the same color, just like her eyebrows.

She was dressed as pink as her hair. A short-sleeved crop top that stopped above her belly, exposing her midriff, and a short skirt that reached the middle of her thighs. The way she moved made the skirt lift slightly, revealing a pair of sports shorts underneath. Both the skirt and shorts were pink as well.

The most colorful part of her, besides the accessories—one star-shaped earring in her left ear and a crescent moon in her right, both yellow, along with multiple bracelets on both wrists—were her socks. They went up past her knees, starting with a pink section at the ankle, separated by a white stripe, followed by a yellow section, another white stripe, and finally, a light blue section.

Her sneakers were also pink, but the laces alternated between the colors of her socks in a zigzag pattern.

As soon as she reached the city center, she looked around, locking eyes with me the instant she noticed me.

She had a pretty face, fair skin—which wasn't common in this city, from what I'd seen—eyes so light blue they almost looked green, and softer, rounder features with flushed cheeks—probably from how fast she had been sliding. Not running.

On her feet were what looked like two bubbles, letting her glide over the ground as if she were wearing roller skates, floating slightly above the surface.

She held her chest with her left hand as she approached me—if she hadn't done that, I was sure they'd be bouncing like balloons, given their size—waving her right hand in the air like she was trying to get my attention.

Once she got close, she bent over, hands on her knees, sweating and taking deep breaths. She—or her shampoo, perfume, or whatever it was—smelled like fruit, mostly strawberries. She also had a huge amount of mana, almost as much as Melissa.

Ignoring the fact that her clothes were completely different from what people in this city wore—making her stand out entirely—I recognized her the moment I saw her: she was the NPC Party Girl.

And if she wasn't… holy shit, what a fucking coincidence that would be.

"Ugh… I… just took… a bath…" she said between breaths. "And I'm already… all sweaty again…"

It took her a few more seconds before she exhaled deeply and tossed her head back with a flick, making her curly hair fly through the air. I had to tilt my head to the side to dodge a stray curl heading straight for my face.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, shook her arm to flick it away, then pointed straight at me with her index finger in an accusatory gesture.

"You! You were the one who created that giant fire tornado, weren't you?!"

…What the fuck?!

[...]---[...]

To the chapter!

Well, I was able to rescue an old idea of mine that I thought I would have to discard. It's not the "Brain Rot", I would have used that anyway. The idea involves the ant nest, the next chapter will explain everything.

Now, regarding the "Brain Rot" itself: this thing is miserable, practically undetectable by anyone other than Alalia, who is blind and deaf to the plan of whoever 'created' this thing, Devas, and Dylan. Dylan has never been to Shahrabad, so there's no way for him to know, leaving only Devas to figure it out.

Maybe another NPC could discover this thing as well, but they haven't appeared yet, so that's something for the future.

Well, the "Brain Rot", as explained, is a combination of all the most horrific diseases, which at first seems beneficial. The people in the city are actually fine, even more energetic and productive. The problem arises when this thing activates. When and how? Spoiler.

The most I can say is: the disease is connected to the ant problem.

Well, I won't stretch this out much, I'm excited to write and want to see if I can finish two more chapters ahead, so I have some in reserve.

Good Night and happy reading!

150

EDIT: The clock was set to release the chapter at 11 PM instead of 1 PM. I only noticed when I got home and saw there were no comment notifications. Sorry about that—I set it up while I was half-asleep.

Good Night, and enjoy the reading!

[...]---[...]

Of all the things that could have happened, I won't lie—I didn't expect this to be one of them… How the hell?…

I didn't reply at first, my attention was on our surroundings. Not because I was worried someone might overhear her question. Besides being somewhat unbelievable, if someone actually found out that I was the one who created that hurricane, it wouldn't really matter.

What caught my attention was the semi-transparent bubble surrounding the two of us.

Air still passed through it normally, just like the sound from outside. I could hear the conversations around us without issue, but the woman's voice in front of me simply didn't go beyond the bubble. Even the internal mana seemed separate from the external one.

I stood up. The height difference between me and the woman became apparent. She was about five foot five, maybe a little taller. I walked to the edge of the bubble and poked it with my finger. The woman just watched with a curious look, not really trying to stop me—or to stop pointing at me, actually. Her finger followed me as I moved.

The bubble was elastic, entirely coated with her mana. In fact, it seemed to be made entirely of her mana, which was strangely flexible and shaped exactly like a bubble. I felt like I could pierce it if I forced it a little, but it had a decent resistance.

"Innate magic?" I asked. It was almost certain that it was. The way her mana behaved was something I hadn't seen before.

I could create bubbles with magic too, it wasn't complicated, but one like this? And just using mana, with nothing else involved? I wasn't so sure…

"It's rude to answer a question with another." She countered.

I didn't skip a beat: "It's rude to point fingers at someone, especially one you just met."

She didn't stop pointing, and a faintly amused smile appeared on her face. I stopped poking the bubble and turned toward her. Her finger was still pointed at my face.

"Where did that come from?"

"What?"

"Your question. The fact that you think I was the one who created that tornado." That was my real curiosity.

That this bubble around us was her innate magic was almost certain. She had used bubbles on her feet as well, like skates. But the fact that she had searched for me in the city and approached me with such certainty in her steps when she saw me? I had no idea where that came from.

I hadn't felt any eyes on me while walking through the desert, and I was really good at knowing when I was being watched.

For the first time, she stopped pointing her finger at me and brought it to her face, holding her chin as a humming sound echoed from her throat.

"Instinct. My instinct has always been good at figuring out strange things. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't." She shrugged, then pointed her index finger at me again—her right hand this time—but now circling it around, pointing at my whole body.

"You're not wearing the usual clothes people in Shahrabad wear—"

"Neither are you."

She ignored me and continued her explanation, her eyes a bit distant as she rambled: "—Your clothes are pretty casual and aren't enchanted, even though their colors are quite dull. The leader of my group would say you have no fashion sense, but he's a bit snobbish, so whatever. You also don't look like a local—"

"Neither do you." I repeated. She ignored me again.

"—So you must be a tourist. There are only three types of people who would travel through the desert dressed like that." She raised her left arm beside her body, holding up three fingers. "Especially with the ants acting the way they are: the really strong, the really rich, or the really stupid."

She paused. Her eyes locked onto me, assessing me from head to toe again.

"You don't look rich—"

"Is that an insult or a compliment?"

"—I don't know, who knows?…" She replied, lowering one finger, her smile growing slightly—both in size and amusement—before motioning around us. "You're also alone. No bodyguards, otherwise they would have shown up by now. That, or you need to fire them and hire new ones, because I could have attacked you plenty of times by now."

She didn't pause as she kept talking. Only then did I realize she hadn't stopped to take a breath at any moment, her finger once again pointing at me.

"You don't seem stupid…" She narrowed her eyes, lowering a second finger slowly as she stared at me. "Maybe a little—"

"Extremely rude." A large part of the (CHAT) seemed to like her.

"—You have a serious look, but something tells me you're kind of goofy, I don't know why. So that leaves the last option: you must be pretty strong." She finally concluded, lowering the third and last finger, letting her arm drop to her side before taking a deep breath and adding at the end: "So, was I right? Was it you?!"

("She's… peculiar, to say the least. You attract a lot of these types of people, don't you?") Ozma commented, her voice amused. ("Her logic actually makes a bit of sense.")

("It's awful logic, as shallow as a saucer!") I retorted.

("I said it made a bit of sense, not that it was good, let alone deep.")

I sighed mentally, ignored my schizophrenia, and asked the woman in front of me:

"Cocaine, do you know it?"

She blinked. "Uhm? No. What is it?"

"A white powder that famous singers like to sniff a lot."

"Nope, never heard of it." She shook her head from side to side.

"That sounds like a lie to me."

"Why?" Her eyes widened, suddenly looking excited. "Oh! I know! You think I look like a famous singer, don't you?! I love singing, you know?! Do you think I have the style?!"

…Does cocaine have another name in Terraria? Probably another color too.

"The clothes?" I asked. She nodded quickly, her hair swaying with the motion. "A little. I've seen famous singers with outfits in a similar style."

She brightened even more. "And my voice?" She struck a pose, bringing her hand to her throat.

"Please, don't start singing."

"Wow, that was rude." She didn't seem offended in the slightest.

"I can tell your house doesn't have mirrors."

Her smile grew wider, showing her teeth. Her eyes almost seemed to sparkle with amusement. She dropped the pose and extended her hand to me.

"I like you." She blinked as if remembering something. "My name is Isis, by the way. I. S. I. S." She, Isis, spelled out. "Two 'S's, no 'Z', 'Y', or 'H'. There's an acute accent on the first 'I'."

"Have people confused your name before?"

"Never!"

"…I figured." Lucy and she would get along well—thank God I left the axe with Jinn.

I shook my head, grasping her hand. I couldn't help the small smile that formed on my lips. Whether I wanted to or not, I got along well with idiots. "I'm Devas. Nice to meet you, even if it was a bit strange and out of nowhere."

As I held her hand in a handshake, my eyes quickly darted to the notification that appeared on the stream the moment she said her name.

[Secondary Objective (3): Cure Isis, ???, ???, and ??? before the activation of the 'Nine-Pointed Crown Mark'.]

Isis said she was in a team, didn't she?… I'm going to assume and guess that besides her, there were three other people in that team. If I was right, at least this part of the mission was already slightly ahead…

"By the way, you have pretty eyes." She complimented, not letting go of my hand as she looked into my eyes. "I've never seen that shade of orange in someone's eyes before."

…Looks like that dye affected me more than I expected.

[…]

"You know, you still haven't answered my question." Isis spoke beside me.

"And you're still following me, even after saying I 'must be pretty strong'." I pointed out. "Aren't you afraid I might get annoyed if that's the case?"

We were walking 'randomly' through Shahrabad. The truth was, I wanted to see if I could find anything else that interested me and was easy to acquire—especially now that I had Isis by my side.

Not all stores required a 'mark verification.' Those were the ones I was targeting. Among the ones that did, not every clerk accepted bribes. Most did—that snobby clerk, for example, took it eagerly—but I knew I'd eventually run into someone who was a strict follower of the law, even if it was a pretty shitty one like this.

With Isis here, all I had to do was hand her the money, and if the vendor used the verification matrix—which basically detected whether the ink on a person's skin contained infected brain tissue from 'The Brain'—they'd check her mark since she'd be the one paying.

"Nah! You don't seem like the type of person who would do that. I mean, attacking someone just because they're being a little inconvenient." She put her hands behind her back and tilted her head to the side, staring at me. Her body also leaned slightly forward as she continued skating, using the same bubbles as before as skates. "And my instincts are good, I told you. Especially for weird things. You're kind of weird~"

"So you know you're being inconvenient." I ignored the last part of her sentence.

"Me? Of course not! I'm awesome!" Isis spun around, skating backward, dodging the crowd with ease. "You know, you're a tourist. Want a welcome party? It's been a while since I threw one of those. We could call it 'Super-duper welcome party for the one who's going to save the city from something evil!' It's a good name, isn't it?"

Her words almost made me stumble.

"That's kind of a suspicious name, isn't it? Where did that come from?" What the hell? Where the fuck did that come from?!

"I'll tell you if you tell me if it was really you who made that tornado." She slowed down a bit, poked my chest with her finger, then walked a few steps ahead of me again. "Come on, I know I'm right. Just confirm it for me!"

I ignored her words.

If I wasn't almost certain she wasn't a threat—her point on the minimap was green, Shadowflame judged her as a good person, and I could feel she had no ill intentions toward me—I'd be a lot more worried about these freakishly accurate guesses of hers.

Seriously, what the hell?!

"I'm not the only tourist. Why was I chosen?" I asked, looking around.

None of the stores seemed to have anything useful. It was the same old stuff or just a cheaper version of things I'd already bought. The only thing that had caught my eye was a pet shop, but I could stop by later.

"Or do you throw a welcome party for every one of them? You must be pretty rich… but you don't look like it." I finished my sentence.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"I don't know, who knows?…" I repeated her words.

She narrowed her eyes at me for a moment before chuckling softly. A message popped up in my vision right then, inside a bubble.

[AdvocateOfGenderEquality]

Could you, please… stop flirting?! I know she's beautiful and all, clearly a milf and a party girl, plus she's got that crazy-weird personality you seem to like so much, but don't you think we've got bigger problems to deal with?!

(ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

("The fact that you think this is flirting says a lot about you.") I used my mental mic to reply. ("And what the hell do you mean by 'crazy-weird personality' that I seem to like so much?")

Another message popped up. Another bubble.

[AdvocateOfGenderEquality]

The fact that you haven't figured out what that means says a lot about you.

(͡ ͡° ͜ つ ͡͡°)

I flicked Kazuma's message bubble away. In the meantime, Isis had started skating in front of me again, still backward, staring at me intently, silently.

"Any reason you're in front of me?"

"People move out of your way for some reason. If I stay here, I don't have to watch out to avoid bumping into anyone." She pointed behind her shoulder with her thumb, where the crowd was parting and flowing around us like we were rocks in a river. "Your innate magic? Or does it have something to do with that stare-into-the-void moment you had a few seconds ago?"

"You're pretty observant," I remarked. She might act the way she did, but she wasn't an idiot.

Isis could say she trusted her bizarre instincts, but it wasn't blind trust. She'd been feeling me out since we met. Even the little insults she'd thrown at me earlier seemed like tests to gauge my reaction.

"You weren't even trying to hide it." She glanced around, as if looking for something. "Just like you're not hiding the fact that you're disgusted by something. You keep making weird faces out of nowhere. What is it?"

"Am I?" Was I?

"You are!" Isis wasn't the only one who answered.

("You are. You didn't notice?") Ozma's voice echoed in my head. ("One moment you're fine, the next you're making a face like you stepped in shit.")

Ugh… fuck…

"I hadn't noticed." I replied to both Isis and Ozma. I also decided it was about time to stop stalling. I'd already bought almost everything I wanted anyway.

I used my mana to 'grab' the air around us and spun it, creating a dome so our conversation wouldn't be overheard. Isis seemed to notice something, as she curiously looked around. She pursed her lips before blowing, releasing a semi-transparent bubble from her mouth.

For some reason, it reminded me of a fish.

The bubble floated about a meter above us before hitting the wind dome. It didn't pop as I expected but bounced off the 'nothingness,' dropping a few centimeters before rising again.

"A wind dome?" She stopped skating, almost bumping into me. I stopped just a step ahead of her. Isis was staring at the bubble bouncing against the 'ceiling.'

"The outside sound is gone too." Isis murmured, looking around, then raised her voice. "You know, I have a friend who would kill to be able to do this. She's already pissed that I can do something similar with my bubbles, but with wind?..." She shook her head, a playful smile on her lips.

"So, why all the privacy?… Or almost privacy, we're still standing in the middle of the street." She sang, starting to walk this time. I followed, the wind dome rotating around us. No one seemed to pay us any attention. "You didn't seem to care about that before."

"I don't want to cause panic if someone overhears." I explained briefly. "You wanted to know what disgusted me? It's that." I pointed at her before moving my right arm, tapping a finger just above my left chest, below the shoulder.

I could feel where the mark was.

Isis didn't stop walking as she pulled her shirt to the side, along with the strap of a similarly pink bra, revealing the nine-pointed crown mark on her skin.

"The city's mark?… Why?" Curiously, she didn't seem that surprised that something was wrong with it.

"You already suspected something." It wasn't a question.

"Yes and no. I suspected there might be something weird about this mark. I wasn't the only one, but marking the entire population always rubbed my instincts the wrong way." She started explaining, her gaze drifting to my right hand, where my fake mark was.

Isis narrowed her eyes for a moment before continuing:

"I told this to my group's leader. He's kind of a paint specialist. The best!" She had a proud look on her face as she said those words.

"Ani. That's the nickname I gave him—his real name is way too long and complicated to say." She casually changed the subject before returning to the explanation: "Ani analyzed the ink. He said that aside from some strange ingredients—something that seemed to be made from an animal's brain, though he couldn't recognize which one—the ink shouldn't be harmful… at least on the surface."

An ink expert, and this guy had detected cultist brains in the ink? If I followed the logic here, her group's leader might as well be the NPC Dye Trader.

I didn't get my confirmation. The quest didn't update like before, probably because 'Ani' was just a nickname, as Ísis had said, and not the actual name of her group's leader. That is, if my guess was right.

"On the surface? Did he find anything else?" I asked. She shook her head, denying it.

"Nope!" She popped the 'p.' "But since I had already said the ink felt kind of off, Mari—my best friend—also mentioned that the mana in the mark seemed weird. So we decided we'd only use it when absolutely necessary. Other than that, we didn't take any risks. We only use it when we go shopping in the city, never beyond that."

"You make it sound like you can remove the mark whenever you want. Wasn't a special counter-formula required for that?" Ísis smiled at my words but didn't answer directly.

"What's wrong with the mark?" She pointed at my hand. "And that mark is fake, isn't it? The shade is a little off. I only noticed when I looked up close."

I decided to answer both her first question—the one she had asked when we met—and the last one she had just asked at the same time.

I raised my arm, showing her the back of my hand. The mark on my skin burned with Shadowflame, the purple glow reflecting in her wide, sky-blue eyes.

"…Oh." She parted her lips in an 'o' shape. "I… I was actually right?!" She let out a half-squeal.

"Yes." I confirmed, amused by her reaction. "As for the mark: it's a parasite. The brain matter in the ink infects those who touch it, and when activated, it can control their bodies however it wants. It's not pretty, trust me."

Not even ten minutes later, we arrived at the base of Team 'Pebble,' as Ísis called her group.

[…]

Team Pebble's base was located in the inner part of Shahrabad. The city had an underground—an area not as noble as the surface, but just as important for the island's functioning.

From what I gathered while walking—or rather, while I walked and Ísis skated at full speed—the underground wasn't exactly a poor 'district' but more of an industrial one. Factories, farms lit by Mystic Symbols, warehouses, and 'industries' that weren't exactly well-regarded by the general population were common around here.

Brothels, casinos, underground fighting pits, the black market—I saw all of it in this brief walk. What surprised me a little was that the Guild also had a branch down here. There was one on the 'surface,' of course, but the underground Guild seemed even bigger, with more contractors.

That last part didn't surprise me too much. Risking your life on dangerous missions made people seek some kind of escape—be it alcohol, drugs, gambling, or sex. Especially with that disgusting mark on their skin. I must've seen more brothels than bars, most catering to both male and female audiences.

The underground was illuminated by massive crystals on the ceiling, covered in matrices drawn on their surfaces, as well as streetlamps on every road. One thing I noticed was that industrialization seemed more advanced here than in the kingdom. I could hear pistons in the factories, machinery, and even saw what looked like improvised motorcycles.

It wasn't as refined as the technology in the kingdom, but it was more widespread. The whole scene reminded me of a steampunk setting, mainly because of the smoke rising to the ceiling, getting sucked into pipes enchanted with Mystic Symbols. Selina would probably like this place.

The air wasn't polluted, nor were the streets dirty, but the environment was nowhere near the same as the surface. What was white up there was gray or black down here. The organized streets of the upper city were crooked underground.

Team Pebble's base was farther north, in an area that seemed to be a mix of residential and industrial zones—though the latter was in the minority. I didn't need a second glance to realize that almost everyone living there was a contractor. All ranked Silver and above.

The atmosphere was also calmer, with fewer sales shouts and machinery noise. Everything seemed more orderly; the streets were more uniformly laid out, and the houses had a symmetrical appearance. It was like a reflection of the surface but still kept the underground's rustic feel.

Several people waved at Ísis as she rushed past. Some called her name, others whistled—she seemed pretty well-known. The Party Girl waved back, even in a hurry, and even threw a bubble at a man who called her 'hot.'

The bubble burst on impact, creating a pink cloud of confetti and glitter, which Ísis had stuffed inside the projectile before launching it. The number of people laughing at the man wasn't small. The guy himself looked more embarrassed than angry. This scene was probably a common one for them.

The house where Ísis stopped was one of the biggest in that specific neighborhood. It was practically a small mansion. It couldn't compare to the Takagi Mansion or the Oakwood Mansion, but ten people could easily live there comfortably without running out of space.

The stone wall surrounding the house had metal spikes on top. I caught a glimpse of dozens of matrices painted on the stones—some fake, others real. There were probably more inside.

Ísis placed her hand on one of the matrices as she entered, and it glowed for a moment before the gate opened. The matrix itself was pretty simple; the Mystic Symbols weren't particularly well-crafted or organized—nothing close to what Dylan, Helena, or I could create—though they were still above average.

But the ink? That was well done. I could tell with a single glance. It was easily at the upper limit of what those materials could produce—if not the very limit itself.

I noticed three points on the minimap inside the mansion before we even got close. The first person to appear, greeting Ísis, was a man.

He looked older. Nowhere near Gilbert's age, but older than Ísis herself. I'd say around thirty, maybe mid-thirties. He was tall, about my height, maybe a few centimeters shorter, with black eyes and no beard or mustache.

His skin was dark. The few strands of hair escaping his turban were black and straight. He wore long, elegant robes made of well-stitched fabric, a deep purple adorned with golden details.

My guess seemed to be spot on: judging by his clothes, the man was the Dye Trader.

One thing that caught my attention about him was his hands—or rather, the ten rings on his fingers, each one enchanted with tiny matrices of Mystic Symbols.

He looked at Ísis for a moment before turning his gaze to me, analyzing me from head to toe. And judging by the disappointment and disgust in his expression, he didn't seem to like what he saw one bit. Ísis had said he was a bit snobby, hadn't she?

Behind the man, two other figures appeared: a woman and another man, both short in stature. The man was the shortest of the two—by a long shot.

The woman was a good few centimeters shorter than Ísis and also thinner. Not malnourished, but athletic, with far fewer curves than the Party Girl—especially in the chest.

Her light brown hair reached just below her shoulders, with a few gray strands scattered throughout. Her eyes were somewhere between green and yellow, a relatively common shade among Beastkins. Her raccoon ears gave away her race, as did the black markings around her eyes—though those could just be dark circles.

And she had thin whiskers. Raccoon whiskers, to be precise, but they looked like a cat's, stretching from the upper part of her lips to the ends of her cheeks.

Her clothes were form-fitting: tight brown leather shorts, boots of the same color, and a short gray top that left her midriff exposed. I had no idea who this woman was, but she definitely looked like some kind of rogue.

She also carried three large daggers at her waist, five small ones in each boot, four pinned into her hair—acting as hair clips—and one between her breasts... Basically, a knife maniac.

As for the second man... He was a dwarf. A very dwarf. Completely dwarf. He walked like a dwarf, smelled like a dwarf, had the aura of a dwarf.

He was probably around four feet tall—maybe less—with dark brown eyes. His red hair was braided into small strands that fell just above his shoulders. His equally red beard reached halfway down his chest, which was also covered in thick hair. He wore a simple white shirt with an open collar, dark brown pants, and a pair of black sandals.

The dwarf was muscular and had the expression of someone who had just been robbed—along with a permanently furrowed brow and a perpetually irritated look. He was holding a mug filled with something that smelled like beer—in his right hand, which also had a metal bracelet—but if it was mead, I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised.

… If I opened a dictionary and looked up "race: dwarf," I'd probably find a picture of this guy.

Serafall agreed with me. Her message appeared in a cloud of smoke, coming from a small factory that popped up from the ground.

[MagicalGirlSera-Tan]

This is the most dwarf-looking dwarf I've ever seen. Seriously, I've been to Asgard, and the dwarves there look less dwarven than him. This guy is a walking stereotype! I bet his weapon is a hammer. I bet!

"Ani, Beldin, Mari!" Isis shouted upon seeing them, waving both arms.

Only the second name updated my quest: Beldin, which I assumed belonged to the dwarf. The other two were probably nicknames.

Before any of them could respond to Isis, the man in purple robes—who I assumed was the leader—and the dwarf, Beldin, turned to the rogue, Mari. Isis also froze in place, looking at the second woman in the room.

Her eyes were wide, staring directly at me. Her muscles trembled slightly. Fear was the most basic thing in her expression. Her whiskers bristled, and the ears atop her head flattened. Her hands instinctively reached for the daggers at her waist before stopping, as if she didn't know what to do.

I could see the muscles of the two men tense up when they noticed Mari's reaction. Ani clasped his fingers together, and his ten rings glowed. Beldin dropped his mug, spilling the liquid onto the wooden floor of the balcony, while his left hand grabbed his right wrist just above the metal bracelet.

… Seriously, I hadn't even done anything… I was even suppressing my mana!

As I sighed mentally, Isis defused the bomb that was about to explode in the room. She placed her hands over her ears, then moved them to her mouth and screamed. At first, no sound came out—just a large bubble formed between her hands.

Then the bubble burst.

"STOOOOOOOOOP!"

The only ones unaffected by Isis's sound bomb were me and her. The others were crouching down, hands over their ears—especially the raccoon woman.

I coated the inside of my ears with Shadowflame. I was almost certain I wouldn't be hurt by the noise, or if I was, it would be minimal, but there was no way in hell I was taking that risk. The bubble had been right next to me, and my hearing was way too good for that to seem safe.

Isis shook her head, making the two bubbles covering her ears fly away, before hurriedly running over to Mari.

"Sorry, Mari! I know your ears are sensitive, but I didn't want a fight to break out!" she said, helping the rogue to her feet.

Mari's face wavered between irritation, pain, and fear—that last one completely directed at me.

"He… what is he?… His mana… The sun… It's the sun!" she whispered a muffled scream to Isis, in an extremely low voice. The two beside her didn't seem to hear it, probably thanks to the earlier scream.

"Mana?… Oh! I didn't even think about that!" Isis exclaimed, turning to me. "Devas! Mari is super sensitive to mana. I'm really bad at this—totally awful—so I didn't even notice. You must have a lot of mana. Can you suppress it?!"

"… Uh, yeah, I am suppressing it."

My response made Mari's pupils shrink to needle-thin slits.

"Suppress it more! Actually, I can help!"

Before Mari could stop Isis—which she clearly wanted to do—the Party Girl ran up to me and jumped as soon as she got close enough.

"Catch me!" she shouted, spreading her arms and closing her eyes.

("I don't think this many things have happened in at least five of my past lives. And we've only been in Terraria for a little over a week. It's impressive how much chaos follows you.") Ozma practically cackled.

("Go fuck yourself.")

("No, thank you. Are you gonna let her fall?")

("Obviously.")

I took a step to the side.

I would never be against hugging a beautiful woman, especially one like Isis. But given everything that had happened, I had to do it out of sheer spite.

Isis didn't open her eyes as she approached the ground, but a bubble wrapped around her body, cushioning her fall. She turned around, still sitting, and gave me a deadpan stare.

"I knew you'd do that. Rude."

"Jumping on people without warning is very rude."

"I did warn you!" she huffed, got up, and clapped her hands once.

The moment she pulled them apart, a large bubble grew, enclosing both of us. It was the same bubble she had used when we first met.

"Better now, Mari?!" Isis shouted at her friend. This time, the sound passed through.

"… Yes?"

"Is that a question or an answer?!"

"An answer!" This time, Mari's voice sounded more certain.

Isis jumped up, clapping three times, a joyful smile on her face. I turned to her.

"You sure you don't do coke?"

"I'm sure!"

"Isis, what's going on?" The dark-skinned man in luxurious robes had recovered enough to speak. His gaze flickered between the woman next to me and myself. "Who is he?"

I decided to speed things up and raised my arm. I felt four pairs of eyes following the movement. My hand was engulfed in Shadowflame.

"… Oh."

"Ha! I said that earlier too!"

[...]---[...]

Yes, Ísis is inspired by Pinkie Pie.

Yes, the members of the Pebble group are also based on classic RPG stereotypes: a mage, a rogue, a warrior, and an archer.

The next chapter is about the anthill and a speedrun of fixing the world's mess.

Good Night, and enjoy the reading!

PS: The next chapter will be released on February 27th.