We got off at the dock, the wooden planks groaning beneath our feet. Kevin stayed behind, leaning against the railing of his ship, arms crossed.
"I'll wait here. Signal me if anything happens," he said.
Thick fog curled around our legs as the three of us ventured deeper into the island. The sun was nearly gone, swallowed by the murky gray sky. Ophean grew more nervous with every step. The darkness wasn't just falling—it was creeping, as if the island itself was watching.
Eventually, we reached a small village cloaked in silence. The houses looked half-abandoned, battered by time and wind. At the center stood a large structure—almost like a hall, maybe the village's meeting place.
We stepped inside. The interior was spacious, with massive tables carved from old wood. People turned toward us as we entered, their eyes narrowing with suspicion. Then an elderly man stepped forward, his steps heavy with burden.
"Ophean," the old man rasped. "Are these them?"
Ophean nodded.
Gasps echoed around the room.
"O-only two?" one villager stammered.
Ophean looked down, visibly ashamed. A woman pushed through the crowd, her eyes wide and wet.
"We sent you to get help," she cried, grabbing Ophean by the collar. "What can two people do? No one is safe here—and you brought two?!"
His hands trembled. "I—I couldn't help it. Every guild, every syndicate... they all turned us away. Be lucky they even agreed to come…"
The old man raised a hand and slapped him across the face.
"You stupid boy!" he roared. "All you've done is bring two unfortunate souls to their death. Are you proud of that?!"
Wanora stepped forward before I could. "Okay, mister," she said, arms folded. "Even if it's just us two—we're damn good at our jobs."
The old man scoffed. "Being good won't change anything, young lady."
Cranky old man, I thought. Like hell I wasn't prepared. I came expecting worse.
And clearly, I was right.
I stepped forward. "Alright, alright, everyone—can we all calm down for a second? We've had a long day. Let us rest for the night, then we'll figure something out."
The villagers looked at each other, murmuring among themselves. Finally, one of them nodded.
"Fine," the old man said. "Quickly—before night falls."
The air grew colder, heavier, as we were hurried into separate homes. Wanora was taken by a group of village women, and I ended up in the same house as the old man.
The village was small, poor, and clearly isolated. Everything about it felt... forgotten. They barely had tools. No enchantments. No barriers. Just old walls and silence.
I'd read about Wallowtear before. Most of the islanders had migrated to the mainland long ago. Those who stayed behind gathered here, forming this lonely village in the middle of nowhere.
I dropped my pack onto the bed and sat down. My eyes drifted to the window.
I was right. A deity was here.
Even though we used soul interaction artifacts to remain undetected, I'd used the Clarion of Touch when we arrived—and what I felt wasn't just earth or stone.
This entire island was a body. A dormant, breathing deity.
I hadn't told Wanora. Not with Ophean stuck to us like glue. The last thing I needed was him panicking.
But this was bad. Really bad.
Even in the original visual novel, deities were never enemies. They were considered absolute good—beings beyond human malice or misunderstanding.
Which begged the question...
Why the hell was this one trapping people here?
Knock knock.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," I called.
The door creaked open. The old man stepped in and bowed deeply.
"I apologize... for earlier."
I stood up. "Please don't bow. It's not your fault. Anyone would be terrified in your position."
He looked up at me, his eyes glassy. "What's your name, young man?"
"Heide."
"Heide, huh? I'm Roswal. Still... I apologize. Things are worse than ever. We're desperate. And now, our selfishness has gotten you two trapped here."
"…Trapped?" I frowned.
He looked away, guilty. "Why do you think we never leave?"
"Because it's your home?"
"Yes… but also, no. This entire island is the body of a deity. And he doesn't allow us to leave."
"…What?"
"If you try to leave—go to the dock, sail away—you'll find yourself back at the village center. Every time."
That didn't make sense. "Then how did Ophean reach the central continent?"
"He's a Clarion user. The Clarion of Smell. He can sense his way out."
"Then so can we," I said. "We have a man on standby at the ship. Wanora and I could evacuate the village—"
"No," Roswal interrupted, his voice dropping. "There's another. A murderer. Someone who left Ophean unable to use his Clarion."
"What…?"
"We saw it. My nephew was with him. When they returned, he said they were attacked."
I narrowed my eyes. "Attacked how?"
"He didn't say. Just that someone… touched him. And after that, his Clarion didn't work. Not just his—but my nephew's too. He came back broken. Then, he…"
He didn't need to finish. I understood.
"He killed himself," I said softly.
Roswal nodded.
Touch that disables Clarion powers… That could only be—
The Clarion of Touch?
But I'd never heard of anyone removing another's Clarion. Not just dampening—removing.
A bell rang outside. A long, solemn chime that echoed through the village.
Roswal stood up. "That bell marks the start of curfew. No one is allowed outside at night. For your own safety… please rest."
With that, he turned and left, closing the door behind him.
And I was left alone, staring out at the night-covered island, where a god slept beneath the soil… and a murderer was on the loose.