Chapter 22: The Faithless

Arson—no matter the era—has always been a grave crime. Captain Moll’s mouth hung open in shock. His gaze toward the black-clad nun now resembled that of someone staring at an eldritch god walking openly among mortals. This was Emerald Port! A hub of wealth connected to all of Flowford’s maritime commerce, its seasonal traffic alone generated unimaginable fortune. If the entire port went up in flames... He didn’t need to think hard to imagine the nobility of the city flying into a wrathful frenzy. The lords of the council would gnash their teeth and call upon every political connection to punish the culprits severely. Just the thought alone... "No, no, by the Sun above, you’re insane, Sister! Even if we survive, they’ll make us wish we were dead!" Captain Moll shook his head furiously. His gestures and expressions clearly conveyed one message: he would never agree to Maria’s insane plan. Maria’s brow twitched. She turned toward the warehouse entrance. Beyond the reach of the torchlight, she could sense waves of black shadows shifting with malignant intent. Ever since the [Root of Man] had begun to smartly try to knock out their torches, she knew these flames would only buy them a short reprieve. Soon, the parasites might tear the whole warehouse down. "Who wants to show this gentleman what the [Root of Man]'s hospitality feels like?" Maria smiled sweetly, glancing back at the players. Her tone was cheerful, but her eyes were cold. Perhaps she’d realized something about the captain—her attitude toward him had clearly chilled. The players needed no convincing. After being saved by them, the fact that Captain Moll was still arguing had already pushed them to the edge. If it weren’t for concerns about Maria’s favorability, someone might’ve already taught him a hard lesson. No need for more words. Without a sound, Phylin dragged the screaming captain toward the dark outside. The parasites, drawn to the movement, roared in excitement. Though a few players looked uneasy, none of them stepped in. After all, to them, this was still just a game—and Captain Moll? Just an NPC. But Maria was watching. Her crimson eyes remained locked on the man’s face. She’d always trusted her intuition. True human emotions only lingered on the face for a third of a second—fear, rage, despair, indifference. Anything that lasted longer was likely a performance. "Stop! Stop! For the love of the gods!! I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything, Sister!" Terrified, the captain broke in less than a second in the dark. He crawled back into the light sobbing and spilled everything he knew about the port’s warehouses. Due to the tail end of winter, Emerald Port’s fireproofing was well-maintained. A single torch wouldn't cause a catastrophe. Even with everyone carrying three firebombs, setting the whole place ablaze was still difficult. Of course, Maria wasn’t actually crazy enough to torch the entire port. Her real plan was to use large-scale flames to flush the [Root of Man] from hiding. The gap between the port and the city would keep the blaze isolated, and a fire this big would draw the city’s secular and magical authorities into action. Once that happened, Maria could simply... leverage the chaos. She couldn’t solve this problem alone. If the [Abyss] had indeed gained a foothold here, then Flowford’s people had no choice but to act. So burn it she would. Under Moll’s direction, the players quickly located warehouses full of flammable and explosive goods. Thirty firebombs launched in waves. In under fifteen minutes, a third of Emerald Port was ablaze. Under that roaring inferno, the [Root of Man] screeched in agony, disintegrating under the dual assault of flame and light. More and more parasites fled their nests, pouring into the open and scrambling for the shadows. If they fled toward the docks, they’d meet only the icy, murderous sea. Most would instead head inland—toward Flowford itself. As the flames brightened the sky, Flowford’s perimeter lit up as well. Enchanted barriers woven by spellweavers shimmered with alert runes, lighting the border like midday. ... "May the gods forgive me..." Captain Moll made the sign at his lips as he stared at the inferno. Maybe he felt guilt. Maybe some survivors still lingered in those warehouses. If so, this fire had left them no chance. And the cost? "Captain Moll, do you worship the Sun Gods?" Maria stood just a few steps behind him, her pale face glowing strangely in the firelight. Even without speaking, her presence chilled the air. "Uh... doesn’t everyone worship the Sun?" "Funny. When we first met, you praised the Storm." "..." Sailors worshiped the Storm God—master of the seas. The Sun held no sway over the ocean’s wrath. Most seafolk paid little heed to solar dogma. Maria hadn’t noticed it before. But after hearing Moll invoke the Sun again and again, something hadn’t felt right. "You speak the Sun’s name, but perform rites of the Storm. You lack the seafolk’s token of luck. You’re not a lax believer, Captain Moll—you’re an apostate. Or worse, a heretic. Who are you really?" Her swordstaff shimmered coldly as she narrowed her eyes. Captain Moll didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled. "Aren’t you the same as me, Sister?" His voice was calm, almost amused. "Maria... aren’t you also one of the faithless?"