Chapter 30 : Dry Land

Chapter 30: Dry Land

In the land where crimson sands stretched endlessly, flames devoured villages with frightening regularity. Living sacrifice had become deeply woven into the fabric of society, where ancient religions held their ground against the march of time. Beyond the dense mist lay the Comere waters, suspended mysteriously above the land, held back only by mountains that guarded this realm of dryness and chaos. Few who ventured to those peaks returned to tell their tales, yet their stories captured the imagination of the people, who worshipped both the mountain god and the malevolent deity of water with equal fervor.

When plague swept through the nation, infected territories were either sealed off or reduced to ash. The UG initially viewed this as a minor concern for the emperor to handle, but the empire struggled against mounting odds as resources dwindled. While the capital remained untouched, devastation consumed the outer lands with ruthless efficiency.

Modern medicine, prohibitively expensive due to import costs, remained out of reach for most. Nations relied heavily on their own resources and the free medical guides published by UG. During these dark times, the Temple of the Mountain God and its clergy became the people's last refuge. Yet while the plague could potentially be cured, the cruelty of human nature proved far more resistant to treatment.

Vivisepulture—the burial of women under fifty alive following their husbands' deaths—was deeply embedded in the Pabat religion, considered a sacred honor rather than the horror it truly was.

On this particular evening, winter brought an unusually cold rain, each droplet falling with deliberate slowness. Two women dragged Nozomi forward by her wrists, leaving angry red marks on her porcelain skin. Her frame had grown so frail that she seemed more apparition than human, like an autumn leaf clinging to its branch by the thinnest of threads.

"How envious I am," whispered one woman in the crowd. "So young, yet soon to meet Lord Pabat."

"I heard Lord Jura was quite fond of her," another voice murmured.

"Quiet! Lady Jura might hear," a young man cautioned his companion.

"One can see why he favored her. Such features..."

"I told you to hold your tongue," the young man hissed, glancing furtively about. "She was suitable as a plaything, perhaps, but never as a proper wife. That's why Lord Jura—"

Nozomi's once-vibrant blue eyes had faded to pale, empty pools, blind to the world around her. The rain against her skin registered no sensation; the whispers never reached her ears. Though her heart still beat, life had already fled her body. As they led her forward, her golden hair danced listlessly in the breeze—her final walk before being buried alive, an "honor" that would mercifully end her suffering.

Her story had begun at twenty, unusually young for marriage in a nation where thirty was considered the proper age. Yet she had found happiness with her farmer husband, who worked the fields with quiet dignity. Their daughter Lura brought joy to their modest home, a beautiful, obedient child who adored her mother.

But happiness proved fleeting when Lord Jura's gaze fell upon her. While playing with Lura one day, his men arrived with their master's proposal. Her rejection, citing her marriage, became the first thread in a tapestry of tragedy. How many nights she spent weeping, knowing now that accepting might have spared her such pain.

Soon after her refusals, her husband fell ill. The clergy, once helpful, turned their backs. While she tended to him, little Lura vanished one evening. They found her dead—no accident, as Lord Jura revealed the next day. Faced with her daughter's tragic truth and her husband's failing health, Nozomi accepted Jura's offer: herself in exchange for her husband's life. Yet fate proved cruel once more—her husband died regardless, and Lord Jura himself succumbed to age on their wedding night.

These fragments of memory flickered through Nozomi's vacant eyes as she approached Lord Jura's coffin.

"Must we proceed with this?" Edward, Lord Jura's eldest son, asked his mother.

"Edward, I know your feelings toward that peasant woman, but you will not dishonor our beliefs," Lady Jura, now in her sixties, replied sharply.

Night had claimed the land, with neither stars nor clouds visible through the steady rain. Pabat tradition demanded the journey to the mountain's base, where forest met stone, for sacrifices and burials. The procession in black reached their destination, finding the embers of previous ceremonies still glowing in the distance. The forest stood silent, as if in mourning, while mountain winds carried the distant sound of Comere's waves and the howls of unknown creatures.

"This place always unsettles the soul. We'll finish quickly," a man assured the group.

"Summon the clergy," Lady Jura commanded, her eyes fixed on Nozomi's golden hair.

A figure appeared, shrouded in dark robes from head to toe, carrying a sacred staff fashioned from genesis wood and mountain stone.

"Bring the lamb forward."

Nozomi's lifeless eyes lifted slightly, recognizing her fate at last. Her heart trembled—though she craved death's embrace, some deep-buried instinct still feared the unknown. Yet this final spark of life proved too weak to rekindle her will to live.

The clergyman ignited an oil-soaked torch wrapped in thick cloth. "Anoint her with the sacred oil that pleases our god."

A woman approached Nozomi, bearing a vessel of consecrated oil, ready to prepare her for the ceremony that would end her tragic tale. Nozomi’s hand is tied with rope as her fate with each moving step.

At Valor Residence

A handmade dessert requiring expensive Almaz flour and whipped cream sat atop the table, drawing confused gazes from Clara and Conrad.

"Big Sister? Is it for us?" Conrad studied the sweet carefully. Nothing in his original world resembled this texture or shape of the dessert.

Clara frowned. "Conrad, what are you talking about? Of course it's for us—Isolde wouldn't place it here otherwise, right Isolde?" Doubt tinged her voice.

"Actually—"

Matt gave it to me. I should mention his name...

"I got a bonus, so I thought I should buy something a bit expensive," Isolde said, crying internally as the words she truly wanted to speak refused to emerge.

Ah, what am I doing? I missed the chance to mention him. Oh Matt, your girlfriend is such a coward.

"Big sister?" Conrad called out, noting her distant expression.

Is something bothering her? Isolde has been spacing out frequently since we returned.

"Leona, what are you reading?" Clara addressed her elder sister seated across from them.

"Did you read today's newspaper?" Leona asked, her face maintaining its characteristic stoicism.

"No... did something major happened?" Concern crossed Clara's features.

"At my office, people were discussing a new criminal called The Observer. Apparently, he broke into the National Museum and stole something important," Isolde shared what she'd heard while taking her seat.

"What did he steal?" Conrad asked, feigning ignorance.

"Nothing significant—just an old historical piece recently approved for museum display. Something connected to Alexander Gustavo," Leona replied, folding her newspaper.

"Alexander? Wasn't he important? Miss Nadeko told me much about him."

"Yes, he was among the great conquerors who united two continents—an almost impossible achievement," Leona explained to her little sister.

"Con might know quite a bit, being a history student," Isolde smiled.

"Ah, yes. There are many mysteries surrounding him," Conrad said between sips of tea.

"But you might be more interested in weapons," Clara chuckled.

"Weapons?" Leona and Isolde turned to Conrad simultaneously.

Clara... you didn't need to mention that.

"Yes, I'm currently working on an assignment about various historical weapons."

"Oh? Leona could help with that, being a newly promoted National Civil Guard inspector. And Con, you might not know, but your little sister is quite the accomplished sword fighter," Isolde explained.

Conrad glanced at Leona, who was sampling the dessert with measured precision.

She doesn't seem to like me much. Better not make her uncomfortable.

"Please be careful—there's a bounty on his head," Leona stated simply, offering nothing more.

Conrad tasted the mysterious dessert. It dissolved instantly, like snow on his tongue, with sweetness blooming seconds later.

Oh, this aftertaste... truly delicious.

"Mmm... divine! Isolde, what's this dessert called? It's absolutely wonderful," Clara asked, catching a stray bit of cream with her tongue.

Name? He mentioned it once. But I can't recall...

"Actually, I forgot the name. The shopkeeper told me, but I was in a hurry..." Isolde fumbled.

"Huh? You forgot in just one day?" Clara tilted her head.

Leona glanced knowingly at her older sister. Probably that guy who Isolde is meeting behind our backs brought this, she thought.

Conrad, though curious about the name for future reference, found his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

I wish Anira could taste this. She adores sweets. I remember her devouring all the desserts that night.

The memory brought an amused smile to his face.

At 12:01

...I saw a strange girl today with crimson hair and a number 32 badge on her arms... definitely not normal...

...I ate a delicious dessert today. Name unknown, but I'll discover it when time permits...

...and Kalifa should handle Harley Juliet's case. Meeting them in three days...

...Saint Holy day approaches. Organizing a celebration for Leona's promotion. Maya and Nadeko will attend. Must invite Xie...

...Helped a woman named Merry Rekha. Will continue good deeds to preserve my humanity while walking this path of brutality and survival...

...Interestingly, I've debuted as The Observer. First bounty: 100 Kata...

...Hope to continue growing, learning about this world. And someday return to my planet, Earth...

Conrad set down his pen, completing his daily diary entry.

"Though I've never kept a diary before, this isn't as tedious as expected. It's essential to track events. I must train, grow stronger, and expand my influence for the future."

Currently, Anira holds my only true trust. After consideration, I must trust her fully—otherwise, paranoia will consume me. If she meant harm, I'd be dead already. Perhaps she awaits something beneficial, but I've decided to trust her completely. Her presence brings inexplicable security. Neo and Kalifa remain unknowns—time will reveal their worth.

Nadeko, Isaac, and my sisters offer little practical help, but I cherish them as friends and family.

Yet I lack truly loyal followers. This requires attention for the long term. To face this world's powerful factions, The Observer alone won't suffice.

A long sigh escaped as Conrad rocked in his chair. The clock read 12:05.

"Time has come."

"Anira."

At his call, thin mist filled the room. Darkness claimed the gray walls as moonlight dimmed, and night itself materialized as a girl with eternal crimson eyes and ink-black hair cascading down her back. Her corset dress matched the night's allure, her presence making reality itself tremble.

"My lord," Anira's eyes opened slowly.

"Huh? Were you sleeping, Anira?" Conrad asked, surprised by her unusually languid appearance.

"Yes, my lord. I just woke up."

"...I wonder, Anira, what is it like living inside my shadow?"

"It resembles living in your room, my Lord, but everything consists of darkness and light," Anira blinked, as if stating the obvious.

"..."

I didn't understand any of that. Am I slow? Perhaps...

"Anira, I want to train hard today"

"Yes, my lord," she replied without hesitation.

"Then let's begin," Conrad said.

"By mine lord's will,

A world that none should ken,

A world cloaked in nameless mist,

A world governed by The Eye,

A world yclept Arcane Veil.”