Miracle of Beast.
The old man had just invoked a healing miracle upon the bear. Judging from the flashing totem's light, it was unmistakably a Beast-type miracle.
According to Safin's teachings, the Miracle of Beast was divided into two branches: wisdom and strength.
Beast wisdom was a peculiar, inverse miracle—one in which a human bestowed their superior intellect upon a beast, granting it a level of awareness equal to that of humankind.
As expected, this bear had likely been blessed—or cursed—with such a Beast wisdom miracle.
As for the miracle used to heal injuries, Safin had never taught it, so Mithra remained ignorant of its workings.
Mithra was still entangled in a desperate struggle with the bear. She had to keep replenishing her Calmness and sustaining her Vitality—otherwise, her blows would do nothing more than tickle the creature.
The flintlock she had fired several times had already become useless; its barrel was bent and twisted after being swatted to the ground by the bear's massive paw.
In the chaos, Mithra had managed to edge close to the tunnel's entrance, ready to dart into the cave and escape at any moment—safe, if she wished.
Yet she didn't truly wish to run.
Fizz—
Her left fingertips began to sting with heat.
"Flames can suppress wild beasts."
Remembering Safin's words, she shielded her left hand. Using the heightened sensitivity brought by her wounds, she began to experiment, shaping the flow of external heat that gathered in her palm—until it condensed into fire.
Ignition.
["Ignition": Anciently known as "Flame Attachment." One of the fundamental Miracles of Flame. It channels a spark from the hand to ignite or imbue external objects, granting them burning power.]
[—You wild beasts, tremble before the flame.]
The fire blooming from her left hand brushed across the stone hammer in her right.
Sizzle!
Blaze! Flames raced across the hammerhead, wrapping it in roaring light. Under that living glow, the crude stone hammer seemed to transform into a blazing torch.
Yet the miracle, born of her own inspiration, did not burn Mithra herself—she felt only a gentle, living warmth pulsing through her palm.
"Thank you, Lebionce," Mithra murmured.
The surge of inspiration born from her wounds sent her miracle proficiency soaring—as long as she was willing to grind, the gains were real. Her gratitude was genuine.
No sooner had she spoken than a massive bear paw came crashing down upon her head. Half her scalp was torn open, yet Mithra's eyes remained wide, her lightless black pupils darting rapidly toward the Great Bear.
Her body staggered, but she did not fall.
The power of Vitality spread beyond her hands, flowing into her limbs, heightening every fiber of her strength.
The bear lunged again, another paw cleaving through the air. This time Mithra met it head-on, gripping her burning hammer tight and swinging upward.
Thump!
Two heavy impacts rang as one. Mithra was flung to the ground, face-first into the mud. Her hammer, however, had struck true—burying fire into the bear's flank.
Flames erupted from the wound.
The beast let out a deep, agonized roar. Its earlier injuries were far from healed, and worse still, the fire crawling across its hide awakened a primal terror that consumed the fragile spark of intellect within it.
Mithra forced herself upright.
Calmness.
Ding~.
Then, without hesitation, she swung again—her stone hammer smashing hard against the bear's hind leg.
The towering creature lost its footing and crashed to the ground. Mithra reached up, running her hand over her torn scalp, guiding the flow of Vitality downward until flesh and skin knitted together. Her fingers slid past her face, dragging a vivid streak of blood across it.
The sharp pain twisted her lips into a crooked, almost mocking smile.
"Roar!"
"Quiet."
The bear bellowed in agony, but Mithra's reply was calm—cold—and followed by another hammer strike.
Thump!
The blow knocked its jaw askew; only wet gurgles came out now.
There would be no saving it this time.
She kept hammering in steady rhythm, her motions mechanical yet deliberate. A dull, percussive melody echoed through the forest—a song only Mithra herself could hear.
When at last the great body lay still, Mithra stood over it, panting. The duration of her first practical Ignition had long since ended; the flames had gone out.
The bear had already died halfway through, but Mithra hesitated, wary it might rise again.
After all—Beast wisdom existed. Beast healing existed.
So why not Beast resurrection?
She was glad it didn't rise again.
Panting softly, Mithra replenished herself with Calmness.
She was too tired to bother calculating its duration anymore; as long as she had time, she would simply restore it.
Good—this feeling of Calmness was indeed wonderfully refreshing.
A small black dot flickered into view atop the bear's corpse. Mithra peered closer.
[Bear of Gross Mountain: A wild beast native to Gross Mountain. After devouring an old hunter's beloved dog, it was captured and granted Beast wisdom. It later became a patrol guardian of the mountain. The grief-stricken hunter, having lost his mind, mistook it for his dearly departed hound.]
[—Good child, good child… you must return to town before nightfall. Beware the bears in the mountain.]
Mithra averted her gaze. She was still wondering what to do with such a massive carcass when, without warning, black and white text shimmered before her eyes.
[Event – "Brave Battle with the Beast"]
[You may choose one of the following.]
[One. Gift from Vista: By absorbing beast blood, you may manifest their strength.]
[Cost: Those who pursue beast blood will gradually come to resemble the beasts they seek.]
[Two. Gift from Fasellos: The methods of forging God-killing weapons—the ways to wield them, and the experience to master every form of weapon.]
[Cost: True weapon masters often regard their own bodies as living forges, melding their flesh and spirit with their weapons.]
[Fasellos' Signature: Pursue wisdom and skill. Let your two hands stand witness.]
It had activated once again.
But this time, two gifts were offered—and she could choose only one.
Mithra studied them for a long moment, frowning.
Two new names appeared before her, yet the costs tied to both were maddeningly obscure.
Did the first mean that those who absorbed beast blood would slowly become beasts themselves?
And what of the second—what did it truly mean to treat one's body as a forge, to merge with a weapon?
Judging from sheer practicality, Vista's gift seemed far more advantageous in immediate combat.
But the phrase God-killing weapons under Fasellos' gift stirred a deep curiosity within her.
Moreover—this Fasellos had even left a personal signature?
Silently repeating Fasellos' Signature once in her mind, Mithra thought for a while before making her choice.
There wasn't any profound reason—she simply found that this one sounded cooler.
The moment her decision was made, the floating text twisted into a whirl of black and white light, spinning faster and faster—until it surged straight into her mind.
A torrent of information flooded into her mind all at once, leaving Mithra utterly stunned.
After an indeterminate span of time, she slowly regained her senses. Her vision wavered; she rubbed her eyes, feeling a wave of crushing mental exhaustion.
Alongside the sudden clarity of new knowledge and experience came a full understanding of the cost she had accepted.
Mithra glanced down at the shattered stone hammer in her hand, took a long breath, cast Calmness upon herself—then, without hesitation, drove the hammer straight into her abdomen.
Thud—
To the stone hammer, her flesh and blood offered no resistance. It slid in smoothly, swallowed inch by inch until the entire weapon vanished beneath her skin. By all logic, the hammer's handle should have pierced through her body, but it didn't.
It was as though her body had devoured the hammer.
This was the essence of a physical Weapon Forge.
Her body could now contain weapons—summoning or releasing them at will. Moreover, any weapon absorbed seemed to form an invisible pact with her. So this is what they mean by becoming one…
The process could only be initiated by her own will; it wasn't something that would happen on its own or in strange ways.
All things considered, this "cost" hardly felt like a cost at all.
In truth, with Lebionce's regenerative ability, the supposed drawback had instead become a kind of auxiliary mechanism—a supportive function.
Yet even with the hammer sealed within her, she could distinctly feel its presence. Her body weight hadn't objectively changed, but subjectively, she felt heavier.
She gave her abdomen a light tap—and a sharp, throbbing pain radiated from within, confirming it was no illusion.
The icy solidity of the weapon pressed against warm, living flesh, continuously triggering Lebionce's regeneration gift.
Without powerful regenerative or healing abilities, no ordinary human could possibly endure such a method—turning their own body into a Weapon Forge.
"Hiss…"
During regeneration, every nerve in her body became heightened in sensitivity.
Logically speaking, if Mithra were to store weapons within herself in the future, she would have to constantly endure the pain of steel and flesh pressing together. The overflow of sensitivity in daily life would also take time to adapt to.
Furthermore, unless she bathed in enemy blood during battle, regeneration would demand extra energy—either from food or from Senseforce as fuel.
Still, it wasn't entirely a bad trade.
After all, she no longer needed to repeatedly wound herself just to heighten her body's perception; now she could enjoy the benefits of enhanced senses at all times.
There were pros and cons to everything.
"These old geezers behind the scenes must've planned this together—they can even pull off something like this," Mithra muttered, giving herself another dose of Calmness just to be safe.
She stored the hammer within her body to get used to it early, then started dragging the bear's corpse.
Along the way, she repeatedly strengthened herself with Vitality, using the chance to raise her proficiency.
After much effort hauling the bear to the mine's corpse pile, she called Safin over—this time it went much faster. The two began processing the carcass, cutting up the thick slabs of meat for storage.
"Why is it that every time you go out alone, you somehow stumble into 'good fortune'?" Safin asked, wiping sweat as he looked at the still mostly intact bear after a long session of butchering.
"How should I know? I'd rather skip this kind of luck. Oh right—this bear wasn't alone. An old hunter was with it. He nearly shot me dead."
"Two enemies—an old hunter with a gun, and a bear granted wisdom. And you not only survived but killed them both?"
Mithra thought for a moment. "Good luck, maybe? Or maybe I'm just... practical."
As she spoke, she conjured a small flame in her palm. Her proficiency with the Ignition miracle had also skyrocketed.
"Truly fitting for a warrior with the Eyes of Night," Safin said with admiration.
"These eyes are that famous?" Mithra asked, seizing the chance to learn more.
"In the campaign that toppled the Forty-Four Pillar Gods, many human heroes rose to prominence. Back then, the first warrior with the Eyes of Night appeared—performed astonishing feats. Since then, the Eyes of Night have resurfaced throughout the ages, and every time, their bearer became a figure of legend," Safin explained.
The Eyes of Night first appeared during the war against the Forty-Four Pillar Gods?
Mithra had suspected that the restless spirits of those gods were the ones haunting her.
It seemed there might've been some misunderstanding.
"Still," Safin continued gravely, "those eyes also attract countless covetous gazes. And some remnants of the Forty-Four Pillar Gods bear deep malice toward them. When you travel in the Dream Nexus later, be careful."
So... should I prepare some colored contact lenses or something?
Mithra was already thinking about what shade she'd pick—though she wasn't sure if contact lenses even existed in this world.
Together, the two finished processing the bear and carried the meat back to the cave to bury and cure it.
That same bonfire flickered again, with Mithra and Safin sitting by its glow.
As they talked, Mithra briefly recounted her earlier encounter.
"Miracle of Beast…" Safin murmured after hearing her out, his face showing little surprise.
"It gives a convenient edge for taming beasts. Quite an interesting one," Mithra said, flipping through the beginner's miracle manual.
"That's not something used lightly for taming beasts. In the settlements governed by the Holy Sanctuary, the Beast Wisdom miracle is strictly forbidden for personal use. Where it's needed, it must pass through layers of investigation and approval."
"But in reality, it seems to appear freely in this impoverished countryside, doesn't it?"
"You're right…" Safin rubbed the space between his brows. "But the Miracle of Beast is extremely dangerous for humans. While it can indeed grant powerful localized strength, it's also very easy to lose control."
"Does it have greater side effects than ordinary miracles?"
"Unlike Miracles of Nature, it draws on the power of other creatures—and touches on deeper aspects of the human psyche. I don't fully understand it myself. If you ever visit the Holy Sanctuary, you can study it there," Safin said.
From her time with Safin, Mithra had gradually pieced together what the Holy Sanctuary—his homeland—really was.
It was an academic institution dedicated to the study of miracles, founded long ago by a group of miracle-thieves during the era of the Forty-Four Pillar Gods.
After surviving through countless ages of hardship, it had become the most renowned Holy Land of Learning in the entire Dream Nexus.
Even amid turbulent times, the Holy Sanctuary had remained independent, building cities to house and protect countless displaced people.
It possessed a solid educational foundation and a highly developed teaching system, consistently producing generations of remarkable talents.
"We'll talk about it if I ever get the chance. I can't even see the future right now," Mithra said, turning another page.
This book had nearly been devoured by her over the past few days. It gave her the same feeling as opening a brand-new language arts textbook at the start of a school year back in elementary school—strangely nostalgic and fascinating.
"If you can even take down a bear imbued with beast wisdom, then as long as you're careful, you're more than capable of leaving this place and moving freely," Safin said slowly.
Mithra looked up at him, studying his face for a moment. "I plan to stay a bit longer."
"There's nothing worth lingering for in this mountain cave," Safin said flatly.
"I haven't eaten bear paw yet."
"…"
"Just kidding. I haven't finished learning yet. There's still a lot I need to understand—and as a newcomer here, I really need all kinds of knowledge," Mithra said, lowering her gaze to the study materials in her hand.
Safin chuckled dryly. "Haha." His laugh earned no response.
Though Mithra had glanced at the sky outside, the thick layer of clouds made it impossible to tell the time—only that it was still day.
Time still held no clear meaning for her here.
But soon enough, it was mealtime—and the meal was bear paw.
After eating her fill, it was back to studying.
With Calmness continuously active, Mithra's heightened inspiration could swiftly link and mobilize the powers she sought. Through constant repetition, her proficiency grew quickly.
She had even mastered a basic Dust Accumulation miracle of the Rock type.
[Dust Accumulation: Anciently known as Stone Shard, one of the most basic Miracles of Rock. It gathers fine dust and fragments of stone into hardened rock, retaining astonishing density and toughness for a short time.]
[—Hardness is strength.]
Several of Mithra's current mediums could now come in handy.
She had also acquired the old hunter's bracelet and tied it around her wrist.
Its medium was a beast's fang of unknown origin—something Safin immediately recognized as a beast-type medium.
But that was as far as Safin's knowledge went. He couldn't perform the Miracle of Beast himself, and even setting aside the prohibitions, he couldn't teach it to Mithra.
The same was true of Mithra's other inherent inspiration—Ki.
Like Self, Ki was a power naturally inherent to humanity, yet filled with even deeper and more obscure mysteries. Related miracles were exceedingly rare.
"If you want to systematically study anything related to Ki," Safin said, "aside from the good fortune of meeting this Believer, there are only two places I can recommend."
He continued, "The first is the Holy Sanctuary's Ki Academy. It's one of the most secretive branches among all the academic divisions. In fact, they were the ones who originally refused to classify Ki-type miracles within the standard curriculum. I don't know their exact reasons, but the Holy Sanctuary eventually approved their decision. There's no doubt those scholars understand Ki far more deeply than they let on."
Mithra nodded. "And the other place?"
Safin went on, "Mysteria—a nation lying east of the Dream Nexus, beyond a mountain range that stretches across the continent. It's said that its people preserve the most ancient and profound tradition of Ki miracles."
"There's actually such a place?" Mithra's interest was piqued.
"In common belief, it's treated as little more than legend," Safin replied. "Very few have ever crossed that mountain range—once called one of the world's ends—to reach it. Yet, according to the records of the Holy Sanctuary, Mysteria does indeed exist."
"So basically, it's just really hard to get there?"
"Precisely."
"Alright then." Mithra nodded, then said, "I think it's about time we discussed what's really happening outside."
Up to now, while she'd been busy studying the fundamentals, she hadn't truly investigated the tunnels—or the town of Gross beyond them.
Why had the tunnels become a burial ground?
What were those strange townspeople really doing?
And who exactly was that mysterious Believer?
Someone in town was freely using Beast Wisdom, and the old hunter had worn an eye-shaped mark tattooed on his forehead.
Eyes.
Come to think of it, there seemed to be far too many references to eyes in this place.
"You should tell me what really happened here," Mithra said evenly. "And why you're trapped here in the first place. After all—" she smiled faintly, "I'll probably be working soon."
At that, Safin fell silent, not answering right away.
"What's wrong?" Mithra asked.
Safin exhaled slowly. "Although our earlier agreement might have sounded casual, if you truly intend to help me, you'll face dangers far beyond your current ability."
Mithra tilted her head slightly, frowning. "But I already agreed."
Safin gave her a strange look before speaking again.
"Deep beneath the tunnels of Gross Town lies a cult devoted to an ancient Wandering God. The town itself was founded because these tunnels yielded minerals that could be refined into mediums—but it was also the deep excavation that brought disaster."
"Wandering God?" Mithra repeated, catching onto the term.
The translation performed by the Eyes of Night was never exact—it worked more like several translation engines running in parallel, layering interpretations and refining them before conveying the clearest result to her mind.
In this case, multiple subtle meanings surfaced at once: Lost God, Roaming God, Lingering God.
Simply hearing the term felt strange and unsettling.
"Ownerless miracles," Safin explained, "once activated, will condense into conduits of genuine power. Their forms vary—often ancient, and capable of developing miracles around themselves, forming unique branches of inspiration unlike any common type."
Mithra recalled the five broad inspirations: Self, Nature, Ki, Beast, and finally, Divinity.
"Miracle of Divinity, then?" she asked.
Safin nodded. "Yes. Though 'Divinity' is treated as a single category in academic terms, in practice, the traces left by each Wandering God form their own distinct system. They may share certain traits, but their differences are fundamental."
"So basically, they're all really powerful, right?"
Safin gave her a weary smile. "I admire your lack of fear. I only hope those eyes of yours can keep supporting it."
Mithra ignored the remark. "So beneath the Gross tunnels, that's what's buried?"
"Yes. And because of that presence, before the Holy Sanctuary even discovered it, a group of Wandering God cultists had already found traces of it. They came here first, seized control of this small town, and deceived the townspeople into joining their rituals—all for the purpose of awakening that Wandering God and seizing its miracles."
Safin paused briefly before continuing, his voice lower now.
"I was part of a reconnaissance team sent by the Holy Sanctuary. We infiltrated the site but were ambushed—by both the cultists and the townsfolk under their sway. The survivors retreated deeper into the tunnels to continue our investigation… and that was when the curse of the slumbering Wandering God struck."
Mithra's gaze fixed sharply on him.
Safin slowly raised his head, meeting her eyes.
"We can't leave these tunnels. Whether we try to escape or go deeper, the curse will awaken. We're trapped in the shallower levels. My comrades—one after another—succumbed. Some to their wounds, others to the torment of their minds. In the end…"
He gave a faint, bitter smile.
"Only I remained."
Having said that, Safin slowly lowered his head.
"Perhaps I went mad somewhere along the way—it's hard to say. My symptoms are simply… a bit milder than the others'."
After a long silence, Mithra asked, "What do you want me to do in the deeper tunnels?"
Safin rubbed his face, as though trying to wipe something away.
"I dropped something while fleeing the depths. A silver pendant. I'd like you to retrieve it for me. I may never leave these tunnels, but I'd at least like to rest with that keepsake."
"What if I'm cursed too?" Mithra asked evenly, her tone flat, devoid of fear.
Safin shook his head. "That area shouldn't be heavily tainted. The pendant likely fell near a set of ancient ruins. You won't need to go inside—but if you do enter, do not touch the object resting on the altar within. Remember that, and you won't share our fate."
When he finished, silence once again settled over the cave.
After a long while, Safin said quietly, "If you're uneasy, you can refuse. In this world, no law says a debt of kindness must be repaid."
"No, I'm not changing my mind. Besides," Mithra said expressionlessly, "I know nothing and fear nothing. I might as well go and see for myself."
"If you feel alone or lack the strength, you can seek aid from the Enchanted Realm," Safin added. "Those from the Enchanted Realm are skilled at calling upon their companions in times of peril. Their ability to cross realms lets them gather powerful allies with ease."
"But I don't even know how to return to that so-called Enchanted Realm," Mithra said, lowering her head slightly.
"Indeed," Safin replied slowly. "We of the Dream Nexus can hardly comprehend the Enchanted Realm's methods of traversal. Otherwise, many would wish to reach it. If you cannot return, then you may simply have to wait—until you encounter another from your realm, and see whether they can take you back."
"Too much trouble." Mithra lifted her head slightly. "I'll just go down and take a look myself."
Safin gazed at her, eyes glimmering faintly in the firelight.
"The more you speak like that," he said softly, "the more I regret ever making this deal with you."
"As long as your sense of morality isn't completely gone," Mithra replied, leaning against the cliff wall and flipping through her teaching materials again, "this kind of deal will always weigh on your conscience. You're a good person, Mr. Safin."
"Good person, huh…" Safin murmured, saying no more as he buried his face between his knees.
Only the crackling of the fire remained, occasionally sending up sparks. Neither of them spoke again.
...
Although Mithra intended to descend into the mine to retrieve Safin's keepsake, she wasn't naïve enough to rush down unprepared.
Even without the Wandering God's curse, the Cursed Beings deeper below were clearly far more vicious and deranged than those nearer the surface—no doubt a result of the Wandering God's lingering influence.
It was only sensible to strengthen whatever she could, even if only temporarily, and make every preparation before descending.
She needed to master and grow proficient in the miracles she currently possessed.
Next came the weapon usage experience that had been part of Fasellos's gift.
The forging and usage methods of God-killing weapons were obscure and complex—hardly something one could easily grasp. Mithra realized that her current knowledge of this world was still far from sufficient to truly comprehend them.
By contrast, the so-called "weapon usage experiences" felt more like a side benefit.
Yet now, that very "bonus" had become the most vital part of all.
Only after she truly began to use it did she understand how generous Fasellos's gift actually was.
Though she couldn't directly extract structured techniques or forms from those experiences, whenever she held something that could qualify as a weapon, her mind would automatically begin to analyze the most effective way to wield it.
No secret techniques—just simple, instinctively optimized efficiency.
At the moment, Mithra was practicing hammer techniques in the open space outside the tunnel.
As she gripped the hammer, countless applicable methods of use flashed through her mind—each precise, intuitive, and vivid.
They weren't limited to human methods either. Her consciousness was referencing movements used by monsters, wild beasts, and various other beings, encompassing a dizzying range of exaggerated physiques and mechanics.
By following these imagined references, her body gradually adjusted, and her muscles seemed to rapidly form new patterns of memory.
Maintaining the continuous flow of these weapon experiences, however, consumed her Senseforce. Even a gift from a high being like Fasellos still followed the fundamental operational laws of miracles.
She practiced until her head was soaked in sweat, then finally stopped, sitting down under a nearby tree to rest.
"These experience fragments don't seem to include anything about the 'Transformation Technique.' It really must be a more advanced skill than simple weapon handling," Mithra thought to herself, gripping the hammer's handle between her knees and absently brushing her thumb over its head.
The "Transformation Technique" was a new concept Safin had later taught her.
The casting process of a miracle consisted of four stages: sensing, connecting, imagining, and releasing.
Transformation Technique referred to modifying a miracle during the imagination stage—allowing certain miracles to manifest new properties or effects.
While even small deviations during the imagination stage could easily lead to failed or null miracles, some miracles were particularly well-suited for developing Transformation Techniques.
One such example was the basic miracle: Vitality.
In simple terms, coating one's body with Vitality to enhance physical strength was already a form of Transformation Technique. But with deeper adjustment, far greater applications could be born.
Safin had demonstrated this to her before: by changing the coverage area of Vitality and how it strengthened different parts of the body, one could more easily perform movements that were otherwise difficult under normal Vitality flow.
Moreover, by channeling Vitality into one's attacks at the moment of impact, it was even possible to unleash strikes that generated shockwaves.
This fundamental Vitality Transformation Technique was known as "Shockwave Punch."
According to Safin, certain powerful Believers—though they might not master a wide range of miracles—could gain fame solely by perfecting this art, earning the title of Transformation Technique Master.
Vitality was the foundation of all miracles, yet it also had the potential to ascend to far greater heights.
Of course, that level was far beyond Mithra's current reach. For now, she was focused on something more practical—how to extend the same effect as Shockwave Punch to her hammer. If Vitality's power could be projected beyond the body and transmitted to an object in contact, then Weapon Transformation Techniques would be born.
But this was clearly far more difficult than simply punching.
Lost in thought, Mithra suddenly caught the sound of something unusual.
A rapid, uneven rhythm of footsteps—someone running.
"Snacks—no, wild animals?" she muttered under her breath.
No… this cadence was different.
Unable to distinguish it clearly, Mithra activated her strongest Calmness, then picked up a sharp stone and deliberately drew a deep cut across her palm. Expressionless, she leaned back against the tree, sharpening her senses through controlled pain.
...
It wasn't a quadruped. The pattern of steps was clearly bipedal—human. Yet behind it came another set of rapid, overlapping footfalls. A pursuit.
Pulling the stone from her palm, she watched the wound knit itself shut in seconds.
Was her Calmness improving, or was she just growing used to the pain?
People always said pain couldn't be adapted to—but after long enough, anyone could grow numb, right?
Her mind wandered absently as the approaching footsteps drew near—too near.
Mithra's eyes lifted slightly.
A young man burst into view.
Sweatpants. Red jacket, unzipped, revealing a black fitted t-shirt underneath.
The markings on the clothes were unfamiliar, but the overall style—definitely modern, something from a sports brand.
His face was open and bright, his build lean and youthful. He wore a black baseball cap and small silver earrings—modern fashion through and through.
A trendy young man.
No, wait.
That wasn't the important part.
The important part was—Mithra had long accepted that this world followed the tone of a Western fantasy setting. So why, in the world's name, would someone who looked even more like a transmigrator than herself show up here?
Wait…
A spark of realization flickered through her mind.
Something Safin had said earlier suddenly connected.
Enchanted Realm?