The monastery under the night sky is quiet and peaceful, with sheer moonlight spilling between the stars, taking away the last traces of dayti clamor.
Only silence remains.
Silent and still, that is the normal state of this ancient building.
Yet at this mont, in one of its rooms, an intense confrontation that is completely out of sync with the surrounding atmosphere is taking place.
Click, click, click...
In the silent room, the sound of a pin drop can be heard, and one can clearly hear the faint sound of gears inside the chanical clock grinding, rotating, and colliding.
As well as the sound of a pen tip swiftly skimming across paper.
Swish, swish, swish!
"..."
Herbert stared blankly at his left hand holding a quill, rapidly flickering on the paper, leaving behind strings of magnificent and sinister text.
After his left hand stopped, he turned over a hefty dictionary, laboriously translating the text he had "written" himself.
"What."
"Fear."
"You... tch!"
[What are you afraid of?]
Seeing the translation he strained to decode, Herbert felt the mockery in the words, and his mouth couldn’t help but twitch. He annoyingly wrote back with his right hand.
"Afraid of what? You don’t know? You really don’t know???"
Ha.
Look at that question, there’s no skill in it at all.
I’m staying up half the night playing with ghost stories and a ouija board, chatting with you.
What do you think I’m afraid of?
Definitely afraid of you!
After several rounds of tests, Herbert finally gave up. He had to accept reality—he wasn’t suffering from schizophrenia but had truly encountered a ghost.
Having a stylish left-handed script is one thing, but it’s impossible for him to master six or seven alien languages out of thin air.
Admit it!
He was possessed by sothing dirty and is no longer clean, boo hoo...
Swish, swish, swish!
But as the script finally turned back into the common language, writing quickened.
[You surely aren’t afraid of , are you?]
Not only did the entity disregard Herbert’s slightly offensive tone, but it seed even more interested, the sense of delight almost bursting through the script.
[Surely not, surely not, surely not?]
[You are a paladin! How could you be afraid of ?]
Dang, this ghost is a female ghost.
The two of them passionately debated using the sa pen for several rounds, filling many sheets of blank paper with aggressive text artistry.
Not long ago, when Herbert was reminded by the Holy Mark and discovered his thoughts were being silently influenced, he realized there was a big issue—the seal in the monastery’s underground had lost control!
This world is not safe, filled with dangerous beings like the Evil God, demons, corrupt entities, monsters...
The original purpose of all monastery establishnts was to seal and suppress those special entities that cannot be destroyed or killed.
Herbert wasn’t sure what was sealed beneath the Mist Monastery but could certainly say he was absolutely unqualified to resolve it.
No need to forcefully face it alone, Herbert, knowing his limitations, wanted to seek help externally imdiately.
Just kidding.
This Mist Monastery has nurous legendary figures in residence, even if the sealed entity escapes, it’s not up to a newbie paladin like him to prove himself.
With giants around, all evil will ultimately be brought to justice!
It’s great if I can gain so experience.
Unfortunately, good ideas weren’t helpful.
He wanted to call for help, but his throat couldn’t make a sound, even breathing was extrely strenuous.
He wanted to knock the door to make noise, but before his palm touched it, it went limp and rely stroked the surface weakly.
After various attempts failed, Herbert was guided by his "unruly left hand" to the desk, and had been conversing with the entity ever since.
Ultimately, it was Herbert who first surrendered, raising the flag of truce, writing exhaustedly:
"So, what exactly do you want to do?"
After a day’s mutual spraying, although Herbert was still clueless about the entity’s identity, he managed to grasp one thing.
From the attitude conveyed in its script at the mont, malice was uncertain, but it seed not to harbor any killing intent towards him.
Cannot call for help.
Cannot seek death.
Cannot even beg for rcy!
It’s like being forcefully compelled to exchange criticism through letters!
Are you insane!?
[Oh? You finally believe I’m not imagined in your head, huh?]
"Believe, believe, believe, I believe, isn’t that enough? So, this great entity, what do you truly want to do?"
In his past life, Herbert had seen too many tragedies caused by blind trust.
Naturally, he wouldn’t believe the entity simply "lonely at night, wanting to chat~" nonsense, which sounds like a five-day starting point.
Apart from close relatives, anyone’s unusual enthusiasm always carries ulterior motives, either power, money, or appearance... no exceptions.
[What I want to do doesn’t matter, you’ll understand sooner or later.]
[Hehe, young paladin... Have you truly contemplated the significance of making a deal with an Evil God?]
[Are you really prepared?]
Evil God.
Upon seeing this sowhat piercing word, Herbert squinted, his expression turning serious.
Divine spirits of the evil faction, genuine enemies of justice, they spread blood and fire in the mortal realm, bringing endless death and suffering, entities that all paladins would go to any lengths to eliminate.
After a lengthy silence, he finally raised his pen solemnly and slowly wrote down his biggest question at the mont—
"You Evil God... legit?"
Brush!
[?]
Seeing the oversized question mark that took up half the page, Herbert sneered.
See, rushed again.
Not composed at all.
Aren’t you a Harmonious God, rather than an Evil God?
Let’s not ntion anything else, just say, what kind of Evil God does not let people sleep in the middle of the night, forcefully dragging them into a heated letter exchange!
Perhaps this comnt was too impactful, and the little Evil God actually remained silent for a full minute.
[I see, you still do not believe.]
[Alright.]
It said:
[I will let you personally experience the terror of an Evil God!]
Huh?
Huh???
A very bad premonition flashed strongly in Herbert’s heart, and he quickly abandoned writing with the pen to cry out:
"Wait! What are you going to do to —"
Thud.
Before Herbert could finish speaking, his consciousness violently cut off, crashing onto the desk.
He fell asleep.
That night, since arriving at the Mist Monastery, Herbert finally slept soundly.
And, he had a dream.
An exceedingly indulgent and absurd dream.
In the dream, he was surrounded and embraced by srizing ladies of dozens of races, partaking in deep academic exploration.
But just as the discussion reached its climax, those monster girls suddenly transford into another image!
"Wait, wait, wait!!?"
"No, no, no!"
"Don’t co near —"
"Stay away from !"
"At least, don’t be Goblins!"
"Even if female, it’s still not okay—"
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