Mira hid in her shanty, peering cautiously through the crack in the door at the cultists passing outside.
They were believers of the Mother Goddess. It was said to be a terrifying cult—once you joined, you had to offer even your life.
Mira’s mother had warned her time and again to stay far away from those frightening people.
Mira was an obedient child. She shut the door tightly.
But among those cultists, someone suddenly stopped walking and turned to look her way.
It was a hooded figure, cloaked entirely in shadow—just like all cultists were dressed.
He had seen Mira’s eyes secretly observing him.
Mira quickly lowered her head and curled her small, thin body behind the door panel.
That cultist walked over and stood right in front of the door.
“Mira, is your mother feeling any better?”Mira covered her ears tightly and said nothing.
“Here’s some food. Make some porridge with it. Don’t let her go out to work again. Let her rest a while longer and she’ll recover. She needs to drink more water when she’s sick—boil it first before drinking.”
He rambled on for quite a while, and only when he received no response from inside did he finally turn and leave.
A long time passed before Mira cautiously lifted her head and looked through the door crack again.
That somewhat familiar figure was already gone, and a worn-out sack had been left on the ground.
Mira hesitated for a moment, glanced left and right, then opened the door just a crack and swiftly pulled the sack inside.
She quickly shut the door, turned around, and sat on the ground with her back against the door, lowering her head to look at the sack.
Inside was a small bag of mixed grains—light in weight, but enough to keep her and her mother alive for a few more days.
A cough sounded from within the room.
“*Cough... Mira, did someone come by?*”
Mira looked at the sack in her hands, then raised her head to glance at her mother inside.
“It was Uncle Philly from next door. He... he brought some food.”
There was no reply from inside, only a fit of violent coughing.
“Mira, this time I brought you a jar of goat’s milk. Heat it up and share it with your mother. She’s doing a bit better lately, isn’t she...”
“...”
Mira opened the door. Several greedy gazes immediately fell on the jar and sack in front of her door, itching to move.
A cold snort sounded from outside, and those gazes scattered.
Half of Mira’s body remained hidden behind the door. She glanced at the hooded figure, then lowered her head, picked up the items, and fled back inside.
A long sigh came from within the room.
“Mira, I brought over quite a bit of food this time. It should last the two of you for a long while.”
“...”
“I might not come by again in the future. Be sure to listen to your mother, alright?”
“...Uncle Philly, where are you going?”
The man outside was stunned. He looked up toward the door panel and only then realized a pair of small eyes were staring at him.
Mira was standing on tiptoe, pressed against the door crack, meeting his gaze through the thin layer of wood.
“Uncle is going to find more food. The other believers also have mothers, also have family—they need food too. Uncle might be gone for a long time. Take care of your mother. Don’t let her fall ill again. Take care of yourself, too, so your mother doesn’t worry.”
“Mom said you’re a believer of the Life Mother Goddess. If you become a believer, do you get food?”
The man froze for a moment. His tone suddenly turned anxious.
“Mira, listen to me. The Church of the Life Mother is a heretical cult. Cults will get you killed. You two should leave this place in a while—leave the Northlands. Head south. People there have enough to eat. There’s no White Calamity. Everyone can live under the sun.”
Mira stared at him silently. After a while, she opened the door.
But that hooded figure had already vanished like he was fleeing.
“Mira, be careful at home. Mom will be back soon.”
Mira held her mother’s hand and shook her head. “Why are you going out? Uncle Philly brought us lots of food. We have porridge to eat!”
The woman squatted down and gently brushed aside Mira’s dry, yellowed bangs.
“Good girl, good girl. Mira, you’re a good child. But Mira, the White Calamity is coming. Mom has to stock up on more food—only then can we survive. Mom promises she’ll be back soon.”
Mira clung to her mother’s hand, shaking her head over and over.
“Don’t worry, Mira. Mom’s illness is gone. I’m fine now.”
“Be good, Mira. We have to survive. We can’t afford to be willful.”
Little by little, Mira loosened her grip and watched her mother walk away.
Mira’s memories faded. She turned and looked at the shanty beside the street.
A pair of eyes was peering at her through a crack.
Mira walked over, crouched down, removed her hood, and met those eyes through the rotting wooden panel.
Those eyes didn’t look away.
She raised a sack, gave it a little shake, and slowly placed it on the ground in front of the door.
Then she stood up and turned to leave.
But after just a few steps, the creaking sound of the door opening came from behind.
“Are you cultists?”
Mira paused in her tracks.
“We are the Church of the Life Mother—we are cultists.”
“I don’t want your food. I just want revenge. I want those who killed my father to pay. If I join you, will I gain the power to take revenge?”
“You’ll die. We are cultists. If you want power, you have to trade your life for it—and even then, you may not get much.”
The sound of the door closing never came. Instead, there was another set of footsteps.
Mira strolled through Blood Harbor, and more and more people followed behind her, crowding every alley of the slums.
“The Church of the Life Mother—they’re the most dangerous cultists in Blood Harbor.”
“They may not be strong, but their believers seem endless. If you’re not careful, a whole wave of them appears out of nowhere.”
“Like wild grass, they spring up mysteriously.”
“These cultists are completely irrational—even among cults, they’re considered utterly deranged.”
“Their supernatural path is extremely weak. Even if they manage to ascend, they don’t gain much power. Instead, it drains a massive amount of lifespan. Few last more than a month. Not that they need longer lives anyway.”
“Their supernatural beings’ greatest use—sacrifices.”
“They seem utterly indifferent to their own lives. They often sacrifice large numbers of transcendent members to cause destruction. What’s worse, those sacrifices offer themselves up in fanatical devotion. It’s impossible to understand why such a cult exists, or why anyone would worship it.”
“Of course, trying to understand cultists is foolish. Only the truly foolish would choose to follow a cult.”
“My suggestion is to send troops and wipe them out directly.”
Galahad closed the report and looked up at the prince seated behind the desk.