Pirate Phantom
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Chapter 14: The Calm Before the Storm
🕑 Added 2025-07-08 15:05:30 +0000 UTC"Since the Harvest Festival, the gods have ceased delivering their oracles. The power of the wicked grows stronger. It feels like the world has returned to the days before the [First Flame] was lit—only now, there is no fog to hide the monsters. The rise of the [Root of Man] marks the ascent of abyssal forces! As the gods' representatives on earth, we are bound to guard their sacred pastures until their divine voices return! Thus, in the name of the Pontiff, I hereby call upon the Divine Inquisition!"
—Solar Calendar Year 998, Month 13 (the final month)
In the central cathedral of the Solar Pantheon, Pontiff Sullivan issued this command to every Solar-aligned church across the continent. Forces were gathered from all corners, converging toward the mythical entrance to [Lordran].
On the surface, this bolstered the Church’s strength. But in truth, it bled them dry.
With so many paladins, knights, and priests redeployed, the churches could barely contain the monsters infesting their own backyards. To cope, they began recruiting and training unaffiliated [Awakened] individuals and partnering with secular supernatural groups.
Even the most oblivious could sense a coming storm.
[Shining Cathedral], Flowstream City, Southwind Province.
Once a petty thief on the brink of imprisonment, Tyre was now enrolled as a [Follower] trainee in the Church. The sudden shift felt like something out of a fairy tale. He'd braced himself for a beating and a jail cell. Instead, the kind old man let him off with a sermon and waved him toward registration.
Emmmm...
"Focus! Stay sharp!!"
SMACK!
The sharp crack of a training rod made Tyre hiss. A burning sting shot up his thigh as he stumbled. Phoenix glared down at him, as he had been since Tyre joined [Follower] training. Every mistake earned a scolding—or worse, a strike.
Well, Tyre wasn’t blind. He knew his low favorability score meant he had to endure it.
Other players undergoing training were jealous. Why had this guy gotten special treatment from an NPC? Tyre didn’t bother explaining. He just focused on his lessons and tried to stand out enough to earn favor with the cathedral’s upper ranks.
While he struggled to master the fickle sensation of faith stirring within him, noise erupted from outside.
Everyone turned. That sound meant only one thing:
The patrols had returned.
These patrols were tasked with suppressing outbreaks of the [Root of Man] before it could spread through Flowstream’s crowded streets. In our modern world, viral pandemics were feared. But here in [Fractured], a society just stepping into its first industrial era, an outbreak of the [Root of Man] would be catastrophic.
Among the returning patrol, Maria’s silver hair was soaked with sweat, clinging to her pale cheeks. Her nun’s robe was scorched and torn.
She looked like she’d seen hell.
Maria recalled the nauseating scene they'd faced. She had gained insights from the battle—but she wouldn’t be eating barbecue for a while.
"Sister, did you encounter the [Root of Man] again?" Phoenix, leaning on a wooden sword, noted her condition with a grim look.
"Good day, Mr. Phoenix. Yes—this time, it was at the docks. They prefer damp, shadowy places."
Maria's instincts screamed that something was off. She couldn’t quite say what, but something about the attack was... wrong.
"The Archbishop is preparing a wide-scale detection ritual."
"It’s not that simple."
Maria loosened the ribbon binding her hair. Damp strands clung to her neck. With her usual smile, she shook her head.
The city’s nobles wouldn’t allow such a spell.
They had too much blood on their hands. Cast a massive [Detect Evil], and half the aristocracy might light up like bonfires. Could anyone guarantee the paladins wouldn’t strike the nobles first?
Or... maybe they'd just slay everyone glowing red.
Maria had fought the [Root of Man] enough times to form a theory. A dangerous one.
But now wasn’t the time.
"You have recruits to train. I’ll leave you to it."
She gestured toward the wide-eyed trainees who had been trying to eavesdrop. Maria smiled slyly. These newbie players were so easy to read.
Phoenix flushed with embarrassment. Whipping his training sword and rod through the air, he marched toward the shrinking recruits.
A chorus of groans followed.
‘May the [Radiant One] have mercy on your souls,’ Maria thought with zero sincerity.
Strangely, she felt better now.
She prayed in the name of the [Radiant One] so often that it became a reflex. What if, by some miracle, that god decided to answer? And discovered that Maria wasn’t even ordained? That she’d hijacked the role of a priestess for convenience?
Boom. Instant smiting via divine solar beam.
That mental image made her shiver.
This was all Lynn’s fault. She needed to break the habit of invoking a god she didn’t even believe in.
Thinking of her adoptive father reminded her she hadn’t written home in a while. True, it was hard to send messages these days—but still.
She was raised like a true daughter. Her life had been full of love. Compared to her past-life counterpart—the tragic [Astral Clocktower] girl who longed for death—she was living a miracle.
She was changing fate.
Step by step.
