The Strange Adventures of Hearn the Believer

"...You paladins are really... patient."

"Hearth, shut up! Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes, of course I'll listen!"

"In that letter, the mentor elaborated on some doubts and speculations, and his trip north was actually to verify some of those doubts and speculations."

"Well, continue."

“Hearn, you may not believe me, but I am not a fanatic. I am simply deeply impressed by my mentor’s lofty beliefs.”

"Yes, I believe you. Go on, hurry up."

"My mentor, he devoted his entire life to fighting against the Holy Light."

"Hmm... Continue... Wait? What did you say? You said your mentor, that devout saint, spent his entire life fighting against the Holy Light? Fighting against its source of power?"

"Yes, there was a sentence in that letter that warned all the surviving Sons of Earth, including myself, that if they did not return alive from the North, they should not blindly believe in the Holy Light now, and even less should they blindly believe in the [divine revelation] that will descend after the Day of Heaven's Weeping."

"...I can't understand, didn't your mentor ultimately proclaim a divine revelation and lead a group of followers northwards?"

“Hearn, my mentor failed. Towards the end of our journey, he had almost lost all his humanity. When he returned to the Sea of ​​Trees and read the oracle to all his followers, he had almost become the Holy Light itself!”

"Buddy, what's the most crucial thing that Joshua left in his letter? Tell me."

“Hern, my mentor, suspected that the divine message sent down through the Holy Light to the Sons of Earth after the Day of Heavenly Weeping was not that of the Lord of Light seeking rebirth after his fall, but rather some repulsive being disguised as Him…”

……

Chapter 97 Heresy

"Honey, I'm back."

The door to the room was open, and the room was dark and gloomy. It was then illuminated by an unnatural light source. The cold moonlight and the pale flames blended together, casting a thin, sentimental hue over everything in the room.

"...I just remembered, I won't even have a dog with me this Christmas, and I won't even be able to spend it at home."

Looking at the empty room, the believer Hearn belatedly tilted his head, then habitually went through his usual bedtime routine, finally falling into a deep sleep after drinking a glass of warm milk.

The next day, the believer got up early as usual. He opened the window of his room, and the morning sun slowly rose from the horizon. There were several potted evergreen plants on the balcony, and the thin golden sunlight fell on the sparse leaves, casting some shadows and light spots.

Mr. Hearn, feeling refreshed and completely recovered from his sleep, was in a good mood. While washing up, he glanced over the guest room and found a note left by a colleague on the conference table by the window.

"If you need to investigate something, go out and don't worry."

The woman held the letter in her hand, staring blankly at the short line of handwritten printed text for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Should silicon-based bio-written printed text be considered machine-printed or handwritten?

Forget it.

The believer decided to stop thinking about the question.

In the past, he always felt that there were too many things to do and too little time.

Now, on the contrary, we have a little more leeway.

He admitted that he had always approached all of this with the mindset of taking a Christmas trip.

The millennia-long blood debt between the Son of Earth and the other fourteen divine creations felt unreal to an outsider like him.

Throughout, the believer subconsciously regarded the various beings he encountered in the world of Thranheim as equals to the "humans" he knew, even though their species, origins, appearances, and cultures were completely different. But beneath the surface, some core essences were indeed interconnected, just like the day before when the believer invited the white fox named Yonglin to listen to the hustle and bustle of the common people.

In this vast world, among all living beings, wandering aimlessly through life, you and I are but ordinary passersby.

Human suffering is inherently uncommon.

Having composed herself, the believer couldn't bear to waste the beautiful sunshine and quickly slipped out the door. Walking along the vast, cloud-shrouded corridors, she lazily basked in the sun while looking around.

As I passed by the second floor of the Cloud Tower, I happened to see that Rosetta white fox with the ridiculously strange name peeking out.

Whether out of boredom or some fleeting, distant thoughts, the believer inexplicably moved up from behind and ruffled the fox cub's silver hair into a mess.

If it weren't for the unnatural blush that had crept onto his tear-streaked face, the believer might have even tied his hair into two ponytails, taken a picture as a memento, and then invited her elder sister to admire it when she returned home.

However, before that, the white fox named Yonglin had already blushed and slipped away, which was a real pity.

“Well, Hearn, I have a suggestion for you to consider.”

The person who happened to witness all of this was another mercenary who was coming downstairs. She was a woodland elf woman. Her pale purple skin and snow-white silver hair and eyes left a deep impression on the believer. The two had worked together on a big deal before and established a basic relationship.

Good morning, Deedlit.

Good morning, Hearn.

"Don't change the subject."

“You… never mind, cough. Anyway, if you don’t have Joshua’s ‘special hobby,’ you should try to stay away from those Rosetta brats who wag their big tails all day long.”

Oh wow, it seems that the rumor that Mr. Joshua is a clergyman who enjoys meeting handsome young choir boys late at night has been secretly confirmed by his colleagues who love a good show. When he is released from prison in a few days, he will surely be met with the ambiguous understanding of his colleagues in the industry, and will further become the midnight remedy for stopping the crying of children in thousands of households in Silver City.

Mr. Hearn, the originator of the rumor, listened calmly to the rest of the story told by the woodland fairy Deedlit.

"The goddess Rosetta, who symbolizes nature and life, inherently possesses the power of abundance and procreation. As her direct creations, the pure-blooded Rosetta people, especially the fox cubs in the Sea of ​​Trees, have a somewhat indiscriminate attitude towards mate selection and reproduction. You know, foxes are not distinguished by gender, and when you eat their fur, you are all the same... it's despicable. Otherwise, the Rosetta subspecies wouldn't be so widespread on the continent of Thranheim."

The woodland elves, whose overall racial culture tends to be reserved and introverted, stopped there and instead gave Hearn a subtle expression that was hard to describe and mixed with disgust.

"Haha, I get it. Also, wouldn't you say this is like two old neighbors who have lived in the forest for thousands of years bickering with each other?"

Realizing that Deedlit's words had a hidden meaning, the believer chuckled awkwardly and changed the subject, then summoned a wisp of green flame to disinfect her hands from head to toe after petting the fox.

"Let's say that's true. Actually, we forest spirits sometimes envy those fox cubs. They only have one litter in their lifetime, and their average lifespan isn't short either."

"Don't you elves have quite a few subspecies?"

“We are different from them. Although we are both children of the Sea of ​​Trees, the Rosetta people are closer to wild beasts in origin, while we are closer to plants. Therefore, the subspecies that diverged from the forest elves are almost products of adaptation to the local natural environment, rather than the cross-species indiscriminate breeding of those fox cubs... never mind.”

The two hadn't finished their breakfast yet, so they chatted idly as they walked outside to embrace the morning light.

"Woodland elves, sea elves, snow elves, desert elves... There are too many of your kind to count in a short time."

The believer counted on her fingers symbolically.

"No need to count. My compatriots could be born on any land that has even the slightest bit of the blessing of the Goddess of Nature. Even I, a pureblood of the forest, don't know exactly how many subspecies there are. Why should you, an outsider, bother with these things?"

Deedlit found his actions meaningless. This elfin woman with a wasp waist, long legs, and a curvaceous figure stretched comfortably in the morning sun. Her well-trained body was slender and without an ounce of excess fat, and she strictly controlled her body fat and muscle ratio.

As a seasoned football fan, Mr. Hearn naturally wouldn't refuse such a treat. He calmly observed the entire process of the woodland elf's morning exercise from the open space in front of the Cloud Inn, and secretly wondered whether the other party and its forces had also reached some kind of agreement with the Gozan people, which was why they could stay in the Cloud Inn, which was no longer open to the public.

Then I gradually realized something was wrong...

"Hello, beautiful lady with fair skin and long legs, didn't we just agree to have dinner together?"

The root of the problem was her empty stomach, the believer said in a rather strange tone.

"?"

"?"

"Hearn, I'm already eating breakfast, aren't I? You forgot again?"

"Thank you for reminding me that woodland elves are fairies who can live for two thousand years on dew and photosynthesis alone. Goodbye, Deedlit, I'm going out to get my breakfast myself."

"Walk slowly without sending."

The elfin girl struck a difficult pose reminiscent of ice ballet, effortlessly extending her hind leg, raising it above her shoulder and touching it to the back of her head, leaving only her other foot touching the ground to maintain her balance. She even had the leisure to wave goodbye to the departing young man.

“Hern, there’s an old saying among the woodland elves that I think you should learn about if you’re still interested in our people.”

"uh-huh?"

The believer stopped and turned around upon hearing the sound.

"Don't trust any of the gray elves."

Deedlit added indifferently.

"Is that another annoying distant relative? Yours?"

"Yes, they are the collective name for all the elves who have abandoned the doctrines of nature. They were born in the dark ages of the Third Age, when all races were driven underground by the Sons of Earth. The fourteen gods, except for the Lord of Light, had been dormant for an entire age. Nearly half of their brethren eventually wavered in their original faith due to despair. Gradually, they began to believe in a false god that was imagined out of thin air, and held bloody human sacrifices for Him. They believed that the blood of the divinely created species, who were born with sin, could awaken that ancient being who was sleeping. When He awoke from His eternal slumber, the rule of the Lord of Light and the Sons of Earth would come to an end, and the long night would come to an end."

“I think their initial beliefs were good,” Hern thought for a moment and then briefly commented, “but their doctrines and methods of worship were a bit extreme.”

"As a descendant born in the Fourth Epoch, I have no right to comment on that part of my ancestors since I did not personally experience the dark age of the Third Epoch. However, I sometimes wonder how desperate the forest spirits, who are naturally indifferent to the world, must have to be to serve such an imagined evil god."

"and after?"

"Later, when they were no longer satisfied with other divinely created species and turned their sacrificial knives against their own kind, our ancestors naturally separated, severing all ties. After the civil war subsided, the Grey Elves were driven to the deeper underground, while we retreated to the shallows. A hundred years passed after that, until one day, when the fox cubs of Rosetta poked their heads out of the horizon like groundhogs, they accidentally discovered that the civilization of the Children of Earth had perished. Only then did we return to the surface, back to our ancestral land of the Sea of ​​Trees, and the Fourth Age of rejuvenation began."

"Hmm, gray elves? To be honest, I've never seen any relatives like you on the surface."

"Neither do I. It's as if they never returned to the ground. Scholars in the tribe even suspect that their rituals eventually led to their complete extinction, but of course, this is just a hypothesis."

"Thank you for this little-known fact, Deedlit. I'll keep it in mind."

"You're welcome. Go have breakfast, little dragon."

……

Chapter 98 Businessman

As dawn broke, the devout woman Hearn walked through the still-low-visibility streets and alleys. Today, sea fog from the distant ocean had visited this silver port city, and the damp air was permeated with a faint fishy smell. And further away, beyond the layers of pavilions and towers, the hustle and bustle of the harbor could be heard.

With the initial intention of going out to get breakfast, Mr. Hearn was pondering the abundant, yet redundant, intelligence he had gathered from various stakeholders over the past few days. He was lost in thought until a strong, pungent smell of blood broke through the barrier of the sea fog and lingered in his nostrils.

Mr. Hearn looked up and saw bloody sheep heads pierced through iron frames on both sides of the road. The bright red blood, not yet congealed, flowed down the equally red iron frames. Looking further away, through the fog that obscured the view of ordinary people but was harmless to him, he could see headless sheep carcasses skewered on iron rods lying diagonally on the walls. A slightly muttony aroma wafted over late.

"Wow, I've ended up at the morning market."

Mr. Hearn gasped, wondering if a bowl of freshly slaughtered mutton offal soup so early in the morning was too rich and heavy. However, the hunger in his stomach and the emptiness left after his earlier argument with Lin Jing made him feel that he would be doing himself a disservice if he didn't go.

Let's go.

Having thought this through, Mr. Hearn hummed a little tune, put his hands in his pockets, and jogged towards the depths of the fog. Soon after, his pace slowed, and he finally stopped in front of a small, domed tent.

The scene before him was quite unexpected. The sea fog around him had not yet dissipated, but through the fog he could see the winding old forest. Even the already faint morning light faded in the gloomy forest, and the forest revealed a sickly purplish-black color under the thin light. There was little vegetation on the ground in the forest.

The urban design of Silver Harbor is similar to that of the Far Eastern Dragon People's hometown. Mr. Hern had visited the city's market a few times. Looking at the colorful little tent in front of him that looked just like a circus building, even he, who was good at rationally convincing himself, could only admit that he had gone astray this time.

The brightly colored little tent had one side open, and a large pot was set up in the suitable space, from which the rich, mouthwatering aroma wafted out—scattered pieces of lamb parts floated in the bubbling white broth.

Although it was impossible to tell what kind of animals were bubbling in the pot, as Mr. Hearn's gaze drifted to the left of the tent, he could see several black lambs peacefully grazing on the scarce hay in the forest clearing.

His gaze drifted back to the shop owner standing ramrod straight behind the large pot—a muscular man in a sharp red and black suit with an apron over it. His gaze finally settled on the man's jet-black goat head.

"Boss, do you have a menu?" the woman asked, gesturing with her fingers.

The sheep-headed man had clearly noticed this oddball who had been standing in front of the large pot for a while. When the man asked him a question, the man paused for a moment, then pulled out a piece of cardboard from behind the counter and hastily wrote on it, “Guest, you have misunderstood. This shop does not sell mutton and we regret that we cannot serve customers.”

"?"

Mr. Hearn tilted his head and asked curiously, "Boss, this is not right of you. You set up such a big pot early in the morning, making the aroma so enticing that it's mouthwatering, and then you tell me at the last minute that you're not running a restaurant? Fine, then tell me what you were doing all this for?"

The sheep-headed man was silent for a moment, then wrote the three big characters "staff meal" on the cardboard.

As his strokes fell, several more goat-headed people dressed in similar styles emerged from around the tent. The difference lay in their stature, some tall and some short. The large, muscular men were all black goats, while the smaller ones were two white goat women. Regardless of gender, they all wore goat heads, but their expressions possessed a hint of wisdom that was unlike that of beasts.

Having dealt with Joshua the Leopard, Mr. Hearn had a basic understanding of this group of oddballs—a Rosetta hybrid subspecies that looked like sheep, but something always seemed off.

At least Joshua the Leopard had never eaten feline meat in front of him, and these eccentric goats actually lined up one by one with their utensils to get staff meals while Mr. Hearn was in a daze.

Those at the front of the line have already started eating.

Mr. Hearn glanced left at the sheep grazing in the woods, then right at the rows of goat-headed men eating their breakfast with gusto standing by the tents, before finally fixing his gaze on the lead goat-headed muscular man in an apron. The man, coincidentally, was also staring at him.

""

""

"How about you take me with you?" the believer asked, still trying to find an answer.

The sheep-headed people instinctively covered their eyes, perhaps because of headaches, or perhaps for some other reason.

Mr. Hearn ultimately failed to have a proper meal with the sheep. At the last moment, he was firmly refused by the sheep-headed leader, who stated firmly through a signboard: "Out of responsibility for the health of our customers and to avoid any potential disputes, we cannot provide any services to a potential customer without a written contract, so as not to cause any unnecessary trouble. Also, please stop calling him 'boss.' He is just a small supervisor here. If you want to find the boss, you can go inside."

"You should have said so earlier. If you weren't in charge, I wouldn't have made things difficult for you." Mr. Hearn thought about it and realized that the way the other person was avoiding him and not wanting to get involved with him was obviously because they were afraid that he would extort money from them later under the pretext of feeling unwell. He understood this as well.

Since we're already here, let's see what's strange in this forest.

Mr. Hearn, always adept at convincing himself, walked past the small tent near the entrance into the heart of the camp, passing three half-open wagons, presumably the sheep's traveling vehicles. In the distance, through the mist, he could see a much larger, more ornately decorated camp tent, seemingly the core building of the camp.

After he floated away and completely disappeared behind the tent curtain, the few sheep-headed people gathered in front of the small tent rolled their eyes in unison.

"Is this customer a starving ghost? Did he come all the way to the store just because he was hungry?"

"I don't know, but the occasions when the store receives customers are all based on the most urgent needs of the customers. I was stunned for a moment and when I came back to my senses, I saw that the boss had turned into the appearance of a lamb offal shop owner, still wearing an apron, and hadn't even had time to take off his work clothes."

"Who would dress up in a suit and tie and then put on an apron to cook? That's hilarious."