The late afternoon sun cast a halo of light through the somewhat yellowed windows, further blurring the line between light and shadow.
The Spirit Witch Lady, or rather, Sister Teresa.
She was brewing a pot of herbal tea.
A faint, fresh aroma lingered in the air. Zorn, sitting opposite her, could vaguely detect a hint of the sea.
'The Ocean Plantations always produce so many good things.'
Zorn mused.
Sister Teresa wore a simple, unadorned black nun's habit. Her hair was silver-white, and her face was lined with wrinkles.
Yet, she exuded an aura of peace and serenity.
A black silk ribbon was tied over her eyes, hiding them from view.
It was said that deep within the High Mountain Calamity Cave, an ancient site where the Witches performed their primordial rituals, she had glimpsed something indescribable.
Though her life was spared, she lost her eyes forever.
However, as a "Goddess" under the protection of Amara, the Holy Mother.
Having lost her eyes, she found it easier to perceive the hearts of others.
"Our guest from afar, please, have some tea."
After pouring the tea, Bishop Teresa slid the cup precisely in front of Zorn.
Zorn took a small sip to wet his throat, set the cup back down, and began to speak slowly.
"I've noticed that there are many children at Adolf Monastery, and their clothes are quite old and worn."
"I also saw that many parts of the Monastery are overgrown with weeds and in a state of disrepair."
"I would like to make a charitable donation to help Adolf Monastery."
"The amount would be..."
Zorn paused.
Zorn had originally planned to donate 300 gold pounds.
However, he had scrounged up a great deal of gold pounds from the Soul Feeder.
Zorn was more than happy to use this windfall to help others—and himself.
"About 500 gold pounds."
"It's not a lot, I know, but I plan to make another donation every month going forward."
Though Zorn claimed it wasn't much, it was undoubtedly a massive sum.
A warm smile spread across Sister Teresa's face.
"Thank you for your generosity and good deeds, Mr. Zorn."
"May the great Holy Fierce Sun and Amara, the Holy Mother, bless you."
"These days, the factory smokestacks grow ever taller, the roar of machinery grows ever louder, and the speeding steam trains grow ever faster."
"The helpless whimpers of children are seldom heard."
"There are very, very few people like you left who are willing to help our Monastery."
"So..."
Sister Teresa's expression was serene and gentle. She lifted her head, her face turned toward Zorn.
Zorn felt a peculiar "gaze" fall upon him.
"What can I do for you?"
she asked, her voice gentle.
Zorn considered for a moment before speaking slowly.
"I do have something to ask of you."
'When facing a Witch who can perceive the hearts of others, sincerity is the best policy.'
"I'm preparing to build a Steam Factory to produce certain potions."
"However, I'm currently missing a key medicinal herb called Purple Blood Fluorescent Grass."
"And on the Saint Gane Mist Plateau, this material is quite abundant."
Upon hearing this, Sister Teresa gave a quiet smile.
"It seems, Mr. Fighting Master, that you know we are Witches from the High Mountain."
Zorn gave a slight nod.
"The roar of the steam age has made the World a noisy place. The power of the Extraordinary is no secret among the nobility."
Sister Teresa contemplated this for a moment before speaking again.
"I have heard of your good deeds."
"The Rat Catcher Bevis has sung your praises for the extraordinary feat of slaying the Rat King."
"But..."
She paused, her voice becoming serious and grave.
"I sense that this matter... is not as simple as it seems, Mr. Zorn."
'She really is direct,'
'so direct with her suspicions.'
"Yes."
Zorn nodded.
"There are indeed some ulterior motives involved, but those are business secrets."
After a moment of quiet contemplation, Sister Teresa nodded slowly.
"That is indeed not my place to ask."
"Since you have a need, I will commission the merchants from the High Mountain to bring the Purple Blood Fluorescent Grass you require."
"I hope this will be of some help to you."
Seeing Sister Teresa agree, Zorn felt a sense of relief.
This wasn't the only way to get it, but it was certainly the easiest.
If she had refused, Zorn would have had to go through the Church's channels instead.
That would have undoubtedly been far more time-consuming.
Bishop Teresa held great prestige among the High Mountain Witches.
The merchants from the High Mountain all had connections to the Witch Priests of the various tribes.
Without Bishop Teresa's consent, they would never have agreed to do business with Zorn so easily.
Even with her approval,
the merchants from the High Mountain would still be inspected at the mountain passes controlled by the Holy Fierce Sun Church.
Fortunately, Purple Blood Fluorescent Grass wasn't a prohibited material.
As long as the trade route was open.
Zorn would just have to slightly raise the price.
Then, a steady stream of Purple Blood Fluorescent Grass would be shipped to Ogrande City.
After they finished their discussion, Zorn saw that it was getting late and rose to take his leave.
At the same time, Zorn took out the charitable fund he had prepared—a full 500 gold pounds—and handed it to Bishop Teresa.
In response to such a generous donation, Teresa, accompanied by four other Witches, personally saw Zorn to his carriage.
"Whew..."
Letting out a soft breath, Zorn stretched his limbs inside the carriage.
A profound and cryptic halo of light emerged in the depths of his eyes.
'The age of the Witches has not yet arrived.'
'But when the slumbering Amara, the Holy Mother, awakens, the Witches will reveal their terrifying side.'
'Fortunately... I started investing during the angel round. I'm a bona fide angel investor.'
'The Witches accept my gifts. I can even trigger the awakening of Amara, the Holy Mother, at the opportune moment.'
'The turning of fate's gears will, at the very least, ensure Amara remains neutral in a crucial battle, rather than standing against me.'
'And the Witch's Monasteries that are gradually being established will become a source of nourishment for my own growth and power.'
The conflict between Evil Spirits, the Esoteric Sect, and Evil Gods was cruel and bloody.
Zorn had to plan ahead and prepare for the worst.
After a moment, Zorn pulled his thoughts from the distant future back to the present.
No matter what path his future plans and the trajectory of fate took, seizing the present moment was what truly mattered.
'Once I've established the channel with the Witches and have the materials for the Holy Healing - Micro-Light Fluorescent Agent, I just need to finalize the simplified production process for the Steam Factory to begin manufacturing.'
'Even with the simplified process, a series of steps are quite simple, but... a few of the special, crucial steps must be kept in the hands of my own people.'
'Otherwise, when the Holy Healing - Micro-Light Fluorescent Agent appears on the market, people will undoubtedly covet it.'
'High-stakes corporate espionage often resorts to the simplest methods, like kidnapping.'
'As long as I keep the core processes in my own hands—in a way that can't be leaked—there won't be any problems.'
'First... I must become an Evil Spirit Wizard. Only then... can I gain Believers who would give their heart and soul to me, who would remain completely loyal even as they witness the end of days!'
[Evil Spirit Wizard]
With that thought, Zorn pulled aside the small curtain on the carriage window.
The last vestiges of twilight cast their final glow over the towering buildings of Ogrande City, stretching the carriage's shadow long and thin.
"Tomorrow,"
he murmured.
"Tomorrow is the full blood moon. The forbidden hour is coming."
"The Evil Spirit Wizard will soon be in position."
Silently, a hazy fog rolled in.
The wide suburban streets were empty.
This was Ogrande City's "Fog Zone." Every day as evening fell and twilight gave way to night, a thick fog would roll in.
Although the Church had established a defensive line and the Lighthouse Night Watchers did their best to clear out the "Confused" from within the gray mist, the people living in this area still made sure to return home early, before nightfall, sealing their doors and windows tight against the encroaching fog.
The gray fog swirled, growing ever thicker.
The clip-clop of hooves and the creak of wheels sounded in a steady rhythm.
Other than that, the world seemed to have fallen silent.
Zorn's brow twitched, and he glanced outside.
There was nothing but fog; he couldn't see a thing.
'Hm... It couldn't be...'
The thought had barely formed in Zorn's mind when...
"Excuse me, kind sir. Would you be able to give me a ride?"
Someone emerged from the gray fog and hailed the carriage, their tone exceedingly polite.
Before Zorn could speak,
the coachman spoke in a somewhat wooden voice.
"It would be my pleasure, generous sir!"
Zorn raised his right hand, the one wearing the Ring of the Two Serpents, and gently rubbed his temples. Faintly, a snake seemed to be flicking its tongue, HISSING.
'Has the coachman... already been influenced without my noticing?'
he murmured to himself.
Since things had already come to this, Zorn simply shifted his body, moving to the opposite seat to make room.
A moment later, a young man boarded the carriage and sat in the spot Zorn had just vacated. He was dressed quite properly in a black formal suit and a brown top hat, his attire slightly old-fashioned.
He took off his hat.
"The fog is so thick today! I nearly lost my way in the gray mist."
"Once you get lost in it, you can never find your way back. Wouldn't you agree, sir?"
The black-haired young man wore a perpetually stiff smile.
As he finished speaking, his right eyeball plopped out of its socket, landing neatly in the hat he was holding.
Blood immediately began to gush from the empty socket, staining his cheek and his white shirt red.
Wriggling, blood-red tendrils, like earthworms, squirmed and twisted their way out of the socket.
An ordinary person probably would have leaped from the carriage on the spot.
Had they done so, the passenger, now lost in the gray fog, would have become a new Confused.
Zorn, however, remained seated calmly across from him and offered a kind reminder.
"Sir, you've dropped your eyeball."