Conquering OtherWorld Starts With a Game

Indahl, Saint Joseph Street.

This bustling thoroughfare that ran from north to south and ended at the south city gate was the liveliest area in all of Indahl. Lining these streets were various establishments including high-end clubs, hotels catering to foreign merchant caravans, and a free market directly governed by the city's board of trade.

A Radiant Sun Church cathedral stood proudly on the southern stretch of Saint Joseph Street, just east of the free market.

Commander Walton, of the Radiant Sun Church's cavalry unit, left his lodgings at the inn in the early morning light and hurriedly made his way to the grand cathedral.

As always, the white-robed bishop received the commander in the prayer room and inquired eagerly, "How is it?"

Walton nodded slightly in acknowledgment before his expression turned solemn. "Your Reverence, I suspect that those former city defense force soldiers may have fallen victim to some sort of spiritual corruption."

The bishop straightened in his seat.

However, he quickly discerned there was more to Walton's words and asked with a frown, "You say 'may have.' What do you mean by that? Corruption is corruption; how can there be uncertainty?"

Walton offered a slight bow as a sign of apology. "The Bartalis family used every method at their disposal, including the 'Soul Sphere' I brought, yet they still couldn't discern any abnormalities in these soldiers. However, what I can confirm is that there is something profoundly wrong with them."

He paused for a moment, his expression growing even grimmer. "All 43 of them have a strong desire to return to Weisshem."

It was highly unreasonable for these soldiers, who had been captured and detained for half a month after their defeat, to want to go back to the place they were held.

"What?!" the white-robed bishop exclaimed, clearly shocked. "Is this… 'Homing Instinct'?"

Walton nodded solemnly. "It's likely."

The white-robed bishop drew in a sharp breath, his fear barely concealed as he stood up. "Walton, do you realize what you're saying? Forty-three individuals infected with the 'Homing Instinct'—this is a major event, one that could shake the entire continent!"

The so-called "Homing Instinct" wasn't about animal behavior. Rather, it referred to the most dangerous, bizarre, and terrifying events caused by widespread mental contamination as recorded by faiths everywhere. Each incident led to a catastrophic disaster, claiming numerous lives.

"Your Reverence, I know exactly what I'm talking about. I once experienced a 'Homing' on the Kalan Peninsula. A friend of mine perished in that disaster."

Walton let out a heavy sigh. "A fisherman was contaminated by some unknown entity and thoroughly spread it among the many townspeople before being fully assimilated… When my colleagues and I arrived, the sight under the moonlight of thousands of infected queuing like wild beasts to leap off the cliff remains vivid in my memory.

"This investigation into the 43 former city defense force soldiers gives me a strong sense of déjà vu, constantly reminding me of that horrifying scene… The municipal police have discovered that these men were inviting their family, friends, and neighbors with the intention of bringing them to Weisshem!"

The bishop turned pale.

"How could this be… How is it possible? That place is the domain of the Nightmare Butcher. How could that madman bow to an evil god?"

Spellcasters, as a whole, had always had a strained relationship with the faiths. Even if not as hostile as Yang's bitter relationship with the Radiant Sun Church, both sides were never friendly.

Yet, despite their opposing stances, those of the faith would never expect spellcasters to align with cultist factions.

The reason was simple: Magic, vital as air to spellcasters, was essentially the result of a "whale fall" of elder gods.

If a spellcaster began worshiping a god or deity, they could no longer manipulate magic—the residual magic left by the fallen elder gods inherently rejected devotion to any single deity.

Walton shook his head that was covered with beads of cold sweat. "I think perhaps we've misunderstood the situation in Weisshem… These 43 soldiers, they don't mention Yang much. Yang seems to rarely appear in Weisshem, and many of them have only seen him once or twice. It's Charlie Rex that is more often mentioned by these soldiers!"

The image of Yang arriving with "Charlie Rex" for a peace negotiation flashed in the white-robed bishop's mind.

Caught off guard by Yang's sudden appearance and his preposterous yet undeniable peace offer, the priest hadn't paid much attention to "Rex," who had quietly stood by Yang's side. He remembered Rex as a seemingly well-mannered illegitimate noble son.

Reflecting back on that day after quite some time had passed, the bishop's sense of unease grew.

That young nobleman named Charlie Rex behaved too unnaturally for a regular youngster!

He was just too calm!

The scenario of a black mage threatening a priest for peace, yet the young man remained utterly unmoved as if the unfolding events had nothing to do with him!

"…I see." The bishop adjusted his robes and sat back down.

The key to the "Homing Instinct" phenomenon among the former city guards wasn't Yang, the spellcaster, but a mentally disturbed young noble. That made sense.

"What does Yang stand to gain by supporting a mad evil god-worshipping noble to become a local lord?" the bishop mused, unable to make sense of the circumstances.

"Or perhaps he's unaware of the underhanded dealings of the noble he's helped ascend? Is he even capable of making such a foolish mistake?"

Seeing such a reaction, Walton's eyes widened in shock, his hands subconsciously clenching on his knees.

Every person living in the continent of Navalon was obligated to pay a tithe to the local faith. This wasn't without reason—in times of catastrophes beyond ordinary resolution, it was the church's duty to intervene.

Before joining the Inquisition's order of holy knights, Walton had spent over a decade as a night watchman at the Great Cathedral on the Kalan Peninsula. He knew all too well what catastrophes meant for the locals.

"Your Reverence, regardless of whether Yang directs the actions of Rex, I believe our intervention is necessary. We both know the severity and consequences of a 'Homing Catastrophe.' We cannot let it escalate," Walton earnestly advised.

The bishop glanced at him impassively.

"You're right, Walton. 'Homing Catastrophes' always result in massive loss of life. We can't just ignore it," the bishop said.ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novelenglish.net . Fɪre.ɴet

"However, this isn't Kenyan territory; it's Rhine. Radiant Sun Church isn't the authority here. Hastily interfering, if it offends the Church of Lady Gold Coin, would be troublesome."

Walton was momentarily at a loss of words.

As he left the cathedral, the cold autumn breeze bit into Walton. It was only then did he realize his folly—if the catalyst of a "Homing Catastrophe" wasn't Yang but Rhine's Charlie Rex, it made sense that the bishop wouldn't be eager to act.

The whole continent knew that the Nightmare Butcher Yang was relentlessly pursued by the Radiant Sun Church. Yang appearing in the Kingdom of Rhine was a feather in the Inquisition's cap. If this madman personally dabbled in evil cults, the Radiant Sun Church had an undeniable responsibility.

But if it was unrelated to Yang or didn't directly involve Yang himself, the bishop naturally adopted a "less trouble the better" stance.

After all, should the situation escalate, those most affected would be Yang himself and the Rhine people. Why should the Kenyans rush to the fore?

Walton halted, standing by the street side in a daze. He wasn't a traditional "good person" by any standards.

For Walton, sacrificing some people for a greater purpose wasn't a grave issue, especially if he wasn't among those sacrificed. When Yang had bluntly exposed that the church's knights were merely expendable pawns to the Inquisition's higher-ups, Walton was angered not by the Inquisition's actions but by the lack of regard for his own significance.

However, if he knew that something could lead to the death of thousands of innocents, he would still feel compelled to prevent it—he was, after all, human and shared the innate empathy of his kind.

The 43 soldiers contaminated with the "Homing Instinct" still retained some degree of lucidity and rationality, showing no aggression and relatively low contagion. They were exposed because their families, disturbed by their behavior, had reported them to the city defense force.

Walton believed this was due to the weak malevolent powers possessed by Charlie Rex, the noble bowing to an evil god.

In Walton's view, early intervention could potentially keep the disaster's impact minimal.

"…So be it." Standing on the street corner and feeling the cold breeze, Walton took a deep breath, his expression hardening with resolve.

If he couldn't rely on the complacent bishop, he'd take matters into his own hands!

An hour later, Walton appeared at the Indahl City Defense Force's headquarters. Using his influence as a commander of the Radiant Sun Church's Order of Knights, he easily met with Horn, the commander of the Indahl City Defense Force.

"Commander Walton, you are telling me to… release those soldiers? And let them go to Weisshem?" Horn's surprise made him fumble his teacup, spilling some of its contents.

"Yes," Walton said calmly. "It's best to verify with our own eyes if Weisshem poses a threat of a catastrophe. Commander Horn, please assign your most capable officers to join my men in investigating what exactly Charlie Rex has done to these soldiers.

"If Charlie Rex's actions are found to be improper, your officers and my men will be the key witnesses to convince both the Church of Lady Gold Coin and the Radiant Sun Church to dispatch their night watchmen." Walton paused, his voice sinking lower, "I have witnessed firsthand how a 'Homing Catastrophe' can turn a thriving coastal town into a dead one. Commander Horn, please take this matter seriously."