“…My beloved possession? What would that be?” Isis inquired.
“Only you would know such a thing, wouldn’t you? Think carefully; perhaps you’ll realize what your heart truly cherishes.”
‘Could her beloved possession be freedom?’
Beyond that, she couldn’t conceive of anything else she was pursuing.
Moreover, in her estimation, Anna’s words seemed universally applicable, devoid of any specific insight. Clearly, Anna was nothing more than a swindling witch.
Only the naive Beacai would ever believe her pronouncements.
“Miss Isis, is that an expression of disbelief on your face?”
“Oh, is it that obvious?”
Touching her cheek, Isis appeared oblivious to how transparent her thoughts had become. Anna’s eye twitched twice before she offered a defense:
“Honestly, destiny is truly enigmatic and unfathomable. I’ve heard that even the ancient Yggdrasil couldn’t fathom its mysteries, so it’s best to believe in the existence of divination.”
‘The ancient Yggdrasil?’
No matter the era, Yggdrasil never believed in the concept of destiny.
If Anna knew that Isis herself was Yggdrasil, Isis wondered if she would still utter such words. Naturally, Isis had no intention of revealing her true identity over such a trivial matter.
After the divination shop opened, customers gradually began to arrive.
“Hello, welcome! Are you here for a divination?”
“Yes.”
“Please, have a seat.”
For each guest, Anna donned a professional, artificial smile. Her fingers subtly trembled, causing mysterious patterns to shimmer within the crystal ball, compelling clients to believe in her abilities.
Noticing Anna was busy, Beacai tugged at Isis’s sleeve, leading her out of the divination shop. With a voice brimming with anticipation, she declared, “Mama, it’s time to explore the festival! It’s been ages since I last saw the Praelior Festival!”
“In that case, Miss Anna, we won’t disturb you further.”
“Go on, go on. Have a wonderful time at the festival.”
Turning, Isis waved goodbye to Anna. Seeing them depart, Anna let out a breath of relief, fearing Isis might linger and expose her charade, thus hindering her grand earnings.
Stepping out of the divination shop, Isis and Beacai were nearly swept away by the surging crowd. Pedestrians moved in small groups, frequently pausing and resuming, creating an overwhelming sense of congestion.
The streets were lined with far more stalls than usual, predominantly food vendors. From grilled skewers to plain noodles, one could easily find a place selling such delicacies here.
These stalls, in particular, were often swarming with people.
However, the most crowded stall wasn’t a food vendor, but rather one selling blood. Most of the local populace worshipped the Church of Blood, considering blood a form of sustenance.
The blood sold at the stall primarily came from magical beasts. Their blood was sweeter and richer than human blood, and the faithful referred to it as ‘Holy Blood.’
To pray for a smooth and prosperous year ahead, participants of the Christmas festival often drank a bowl of Holy Blood, a ritual to demonstrate their piety.
Watching their lips stained crimson with blood, Isis mused that Beacai being called an evil deity was not without reason.
Even if Beacai did nothing, the mere sight of her followers in such a state would, to any ordinary person, be a symbol of chaotic evil.
Few normal individuals could ever accept a custom like blood-drinking.
This was especially true for Isis, who commanded nature and life itself.
Shifting her attention from the stall, shouts and cries began to filter into their ears as they delved deeper into Perfume Street.
“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! Anyone passing by, take a look! Hit the bullseye, and you can claim a prize! Hit it again, and you can claim another!”
The encouraging proprietor shouted, simultaneously raising a cat plushie above his head before continuing,
“The grand prize is this cat plushie! Not only is it adorable, but it’s also inscribed with numerous high-level spells. It will undoubtedly be an invaluable aid to you in the future. You wouldn’t be able to acquire something like this elsewhere, not even if you spent a fortune!”
As if to confirm the owner’s claims, the cat plushie let out a few ‘meows.’ Strange magical patterns shimmered across its white fur, instantly signaling to any observer that its construction was far from simple.
Such magical artifacts were rare in the market, let alone ones inscribed with multiple advanced spells. Consequently, a continuous stream of people eager to win the grand prize lined up to take on the challenge.
The challenge was straightforward: for a modest fee, customers received a longbow and a wooden arrow. Their task was simply to nock the arrow, draw the bow, and hit the center of a distant target.
However, magic was unusable during the archery. This challenge, therefore, tested one’s raw archery skill, immediately eliminating any customers who relied on magic to hit their targets.
As one customer after another was eliminated, a particular figure began to draw increasing attention. The surrounding crowd started to whisper amongst themselves.
“Hey, isn’t that an elf? Participating in something like this?”
“Even with magic suppression in place, elves are naturally skilled archers, aren’t they? For him to participate in this is practically cheating!”
“So he’ll just claim the grand prize right away? The owner must be fuming.”
The one consistently hitting the bullseye was a male elf. Blessed with innate archery talent, he could effortlessly strike the target’s center, even without the aid of magic.
The challenge comprised eight rounds. The male elf had already cleared the sixth round and was now preparing for the seventh.
Logically, the proprietor should have been frowning, utterly unwilling for him to continue the challenge. Yet, the owner calmly approached him and asked:
“Do you wish to continue the challenge? If you stop now, you can take these prizes with you. But if you choose to proceed and fail, you’ll receive nothing at all.”
His rule was simple: pass a round, and the customer received a prize, then had the option to continue or leave with their winnings.
If they chose to continue and failed, they would lose everything, unless they could clear all eight rounds consecutively.
However, in the owner’s estimation, this was an utterly impossible feat.
While the rules were simple, they laid a deep trap for the greedy. Those fixated on winning the grand prize often ended up with nothing.
“I’ll continue.”
“I like young men with your spirit! Welcome to the seventh round.”
The male elf’s decision made the owner chuckle aloud. He instructed an employee to hand new arrows to the elf, while simultaneously adjusting the target’s difficulty for the seventh round.
In his eyes, the sixth round had already been the elf’s limit.