The tranquility felt alien.

  After the commotion of expelling the spy, after the return to the familiar paranoid rhythm, Obsidian Sanctuary instead settled into a silence that was almost… normal. No system notifications flashing red. No warning shouts. Only the sound of low conversations from refugees in the field, the trickling of water from the newly repaired Twilight Garden irrigation system by Seris, and Lumi's light footsteps following her everywhere like an attached shadow.

  Mara stood on the observation balcony, gazing at the softly glimmering surface of [Obsidian Aegis] in the distance. That barrier, which had been the dividing line between herself and the world that wanted to destroy her, suddenly felt like one-way glass. She could see out—the primeval forest, the sky with two moons always hanging, the faint trade routes in the distance—but the outside world couldn't see in. Not completely.

  This is stupid, she thought, her fingers tapping the obsidian stone railing. We know the Church is planning something. We know the Crimson Crusaders surely won't sit idle after the humiliation to Kaelen. We even just expelled a spy. But here… it feels like waiting in the lobby before a raid starts. Empty.

  And that was the problem. Eight thousand hours of gamer instinct were screaming. Intel is everything. She knew her sanctuary. She knew her allies. But the world outside those walls? That was a map blanketed by fog of war. She was moving blind.

  "We have to go out," she said, her voice more a statement to herself than to anyone.

  Lumi, who was sitting on the floor weaving Gloom-Moss twigs into something that might be a crown or a mouse trap—hard to tell—raised her head. Her heterochromatic eyes, one bright gold and one dead gray, looked at her. "Go out?"

  "Not to fight. Not to challenge." Mara turned to her. "To see. To hear. To… understand what's actually happening out there. All this time we've only been reacting. Hearing news from Seris, from black market rumors. That's not enough."

  The idea ripened quickly in her head, shaped by the logic of a veteran who had died too many times from lack of information. If she was a catastrophic threat, if she was the world's enemy, then she needed to know exactly what the world that opposed her was like. Not through reports. Not through propaganda shouts. But with her own eyes.

  We have [Mimicry Veil]. Level 999. Stats that could destroy a small city with a sneeze. But walking out with horns and wings open? That's called inviting a raid party. No. If we want clear intel, we have to be ghosts. Invisible. Undetected.

  "You'll come with me," she said to Lumi. It wasn't a question. Leaving the child, her unique living radar, inside the already safe sanctuary? That was a luxury she couldn't risk. Besides… Lumi was the perfect cover. Who would suspect a mother and her child?

  Her preparations were minimal, but calculated with the precision of someone who had repeated tutorials hundreds of times. [Mimicry Veil] was activated with a whisper of mental command. The sensation was strange—like her skin was being stretched and recast, like wearing a mask that felt too perfect. Her long silver hair shortened, turning dull brown. Her horns shrank, disappearing into the skin of her forehead, leaving only slight bumps that could be hidden by bangs. Her red eyes faded to ordinary green. Her black-red gown changed into a simple traveler's tunic and pants of rough material, a gray hooded cloak wrapping around her shoulders. She checked herself in the mirror of a smooth obsidian surface.

  Good enough. Her appearance was now a human woman, mid-twenties, with a forgettable face and tired eyes. Level? The system would read… level 22. Low enough not to draw attention, high enough not to be considered trash that could be robbed randomly. She hid two [Shadowbite] daggers taken from the warehouse—unwanted gifts from the intruder—in the folds of her cloak. Just in case.

  Lumi only observed, head tilted. When Mara finished, the child stood and approached, her small hand reaching for the edge of Mara's changed cloak. "Ghost Mama… gone?"

  "Only temporarily, dear," Mara whispered, her voice also changed—lighter, flatter, without the echo of usual authority. "We're going to the city. You have to stay close. Don't draw attention. And…" She crouched, meeting Lumi's eyes. "If you see something that… sparkles. That's strange. Pull my cloak. But don't point. Okay?"

  Lumi nodded, serious. She understood the unspoken rules of the game.

  They walked to the main gate. Lazarus, who was overseeing the warehouse reorganization, froze when he saw them. His glowing green eyes widened. "My Lord? This…?"

  "We're going out for a bit," said Nyxaria, with a tone that still wielded her authority despite her changed form. "Guard the sanctuary. If anyone asks, say the ruler is meditating inside. Seris knows what to do."

  "But—the outside world—danger—" Lazarus protested, his gestures dramatic.

  "That's exactly why we're going," she cut him off. "To understand the danger. Open the barrier."

  Lazarus sighed deeply, but his wrinkled hands made intricate gestures in the air. [Obsidian Aegis] trembled, and a gap large enough for two people opened in the middle of the swirling black energy. Outside air rushed in—fresh, cold, smelling of wet earth and rotting leaves, very different from the sterile sanctuary air.

  The first step through the threshold felt like stepping into another dimension. The pressure of the sanctuary's aura that always surrounded her vanished. The world felt… bigger. Noisier. More alive. And more dangerous.

  Okay, Mara. You're not Nyxaria here. You're Caela. An ordinary traveler. Take a breath. Don't look up to check buffs. Don't count skill cooldowns in your head. Be normal.

  They followed a rarely traveled path, descending from the slopes of the Teeth of Nyx Mountains. The primeval forest here was dense, the canopy of giant trees blocking most of the light from the two moons. The sounds of night creatures—insects, nocturnal birds, something larger brushing through the foliage—filled the air. Lumi walked very close, her hand gripping tightly the fabric of Mara's disguised pants.

  The journey took several hours. Mara chose normal human speed, even though every instinct of her old gamer self screamed to use [Shadow Step] and arrive in seconds. But that would draw attention. And the point was not to draw attention.

  The city of Crossbell appeared like an illusion at the end of the road. Not a grand metropolis, not a mighty fortress. Just a market town surrounded by simple wooden and stone walls, oil lamps and low magical lighting shining like fireflies in the darkness. Its gate was still open—a trading city that lived even at night. The guards, two humans with leather armor and spears, nodded them through without many questions. The only thing they did was collect a 'road fee' of one small copper piece. The system didn't react. No detection. No warning.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  They didn't even glance at me twice, Mara thought, a strange relief mixed with a bit of… offense. Half a year ago, my name alone would have made them vomit in fear. Now? I'm just one of a thousand tired faces passing through. [Mimicry Veil] works perfectly. Or maybe, to them, the Demon Queen is a concept too big, too far away. A monster in the mountains, not in the city gate entry line.

  The world inside the walls was different from what Mara remembered from the past as a player. This wasn't a quest zone with exclamation marks above NPC heads. This was a living place. The smell of sweat, horse manure, fried food, and heated metal filled the air. The sounds of bargaining, vendor shouts, baby cries, and hammer strikes from workshops filled the ears. The light of oil lamps danced on faces that were tired, anxious, or occasionally laughing.

  They walked slowly, following the main street filled with stalls. Mara observed everything with an analyst's eyes, not a tourist's.

  NPCs. Majority human, some mixed races with elf or dwarf features. Levels between 5 to 30. Simple clothes, many patched. Their eyes held shadows—not shadows from lack of sleep, but shadows from something deeper. A kind of existential weariness.

  Players. They were easier to recognize. The way they walked was slightly too confident. Gazes that constantly scanned the environment as if looking for exclamation marks. Equipment that was more coordinated, though not always good. They gathered in small groups, speaking in low voices, laughing loudly in a way that sounded forced. Their levels varied, from the 30s to the 70s. None approaching level 90. None like Kaelen.

  Player population has dropped drastically, she noted mentally. Before, a leveling city like this would be packed with hundreds of new avatars. Now? Maybe fifty that I see. The world becoming real filtered out many people. Only the tough, the lucky, or the… cruel, survived.

  She directed Lumi to a simple stall on the edge of the market—a tent with several wooden benches, the aroma of thick soup wafting from a large cauldron. They sat in a corner, ordered two bowls and hard bread. The price was two silver pieces. Expensive for ordinary food. Inflation, or scarcity?

  While pretending to eat, Mara focused her hearing.

  Conversation at the next table, among three players with leather armor and worn weapons:

  "…heard the quest from the Church at Silver River Village pays well? A hundred gold per head."

  "A hundred? For what? Kill goblins?"

  "No. 'Cleansing of dark influence'. They say there's a small devil cult."

  "Devil cult at Silver River Village? The place full of grandmas and potato farmers?"

  "Hey, gold is gold. I don't care if they worship rats, as long as the pay is that much."

  "But… I heard from a scout who returned last week. He said there's no cult. Just a group of farmers protesting because Church taxes increased threefold. They say 'dark influence' is just an excuse."

  Silence for a moment. Then the third voice, lower: "You're saying we're being told to kill ordinary people?"

  "I'm not saying anything. I'm just saying the quest pays well."

  Click. A piece of information entered the puzzle in Mara's head. The Church was using the quest system—the sacred mechanic that was supposed to be for good—as a tool for hired killers. Eradicating disobedience with the label 'dark influence'. And players, needing resources to survive, did it. Because the system said it was a 'quest'. Because the reward was real.

  Lumi, across from her, was spooning her soup slowly. Suddenly, she kicked Mara's foot under the table. Gently. Her eyes looked in a certain direction—toward a large wooden bulletin board covered with papers across the street.

  Mara nodded almost imperceptibly. After finishing, they walked toward that board. Many people gathered—some players, mostly NPCs looking for daily work. Ordinary quests: 'Collect 20 Wolf Pelts', 'Guard Caravan to the East', 'Find Missing Child in the Forest'.

  And in the center, a large red wax seal of the Church of Light was stuck to several parchments. Mara read it calmly.

  Quest: Purification of Faith.Location: East Elmwood Hamlet (Coordinates Attached).Description: The village has been contaminated by dark influence. Evidence: refusal to pay holy offerings, sightings of forbidden symbols, descendants with strange eyes.Task: Cleanse the contamination. Restore purity.Reward: 120 Gold per participant, Church Reputation +500, Item: [Potion of Minor Healing] x5.Recipients: Party of 4-6 people, minimum level 45.

  Mara froze. East Elmwood. That wasn't an unfamiliar name. It was a neighboring village to the original Elmwood—the village where she found Lumi. The village that was already destroyed. And 'descendants with strange eyes'… she glanced at Lumi, at her heterochromatic eyes now hidden behind a small hood.

  This isn't a quest. This is a massacre order disguised as religious duty.

  They're not stopping, she thought, cold wrapping her bones despite the warm night air. They're just shifting targets. And using players as their executioners. The system allows this. The system gives rewards for this.

  She felt anger, sharp and boiling. Nyxaria's instinct stirred, urging her to tear that parchment, to burn this board, to declare open war on this spreading hypocrisy. But Mara's hand—Caela the traveler's hand—only clenched inside the pocket of her cloak.

  No. Reactive is what they expect. An explosion is their justification. We have to be smarter.

  She pulled Lumi slowly, turned to leave.

  And almost bumped into someone.

  A man in gold and white layered platemail armor, a cloak with a shining sun symbol on the shoulder. A Church Paladin. Level 68. His sharp blue eyes looked at her—and then down at Lumi.

  Mara felt her heart stop for a moment. No. Not now.

  "Excuse me, madam," said the Paladin, his voice sounding trained and friendly, but there was an inquisitive tone beneath it. "I don't often see new faces in Crossbell lately. Traveler?"

  Mara nodded, bowing her head slightly in the respectful attitude expected from common people toward Church members. "Yes, Your Grace. I'm… Caela. And this is my daughter, Lyra. We're traveling north, looking for family."

  The Paladin observed her, then his gaze returned to Lumi. "Your daughter… why is she covering her head? The night air isn't too cold."

  Because her eyes would make you burn her at the stake, Mara thought in panic. But outwardly, she only smiled weakly. "She's… sensitive. City lamp lights hurt her eyes. The doctor said it's temporary."

  "I see." The Paladin nodded, but his eyes didn't leave. "The world is getting more dangerous, madam. Especially for women walking alone with a small child. Have you heard the news about… the Queen of Darkness in the mountains?"

  Mara's smile remained fixed. "Only rumors, Your Grace. We're simple people. The affairs of rulers are too high for us."

  "Wise." The Paladin smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "But vigilance is the duty of all children of light. If you see anything suspicious—strangers with strange auras, odd symbols, whispers that shouldn't be—report it to the Church post. We protect the faithful." His white-gloved hand almost touched Lumi's shoulder.

  Mara moved almost imperceptibly, placing her body between the paladin and the child. "Of course, Your Grace. We're grateful for the Church's protection."

  For a few seconds that felt like ages, the paladin only stared at her. The atmosphere changed. The air felt heavy. Mara could feel [System Feedback] almost appearing—some detection skill was probably being activated. But [Mimicry Veil] was an Authority-class skill. Level 68 was nothing.

  Finally, the paladin nodded again. "May your journey be safe in the light."

  He turned and left, his cloak billowing.

  Mara didn't move until the white figure disappeared into the crowd. Only then did she take a deep breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Lumi gripped her hand tightly, small and cold. That was too close. He suspected something. Or just routine procedure? Doesn't matter. We have to leave.

  But before they could step away, a hoarse voice whispered from the dark alley beside the stall.

  "Madam."

  Mara turned. An old NPC man, hunched, dressed in rags, stood in the shadows. His cloudy eyes stared at Lumi with an intensity that made her uncomfortable.

  "I recognize her," the old man whispered, his voice like dry leaves scraping. "From a village on the mountain slope. The village that… vanished."

  Mara froze. "What do you mean?"

  The old man didn't answer directly. He glanced left and right, making sure no one was listening. "They said everyone died. Erased by darkness. But…" He pointed at Lumi with his trembling chin. "That child… with two-colored eyes. She was there. I saw her, before everything happened. She should have…"

  He stopped, his breath gasping. Pure fear radiated from him.

  "She should be dead."

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