Life on the Brink

Veyl stormed straight to the center of the tavern, right by the blazing fire pit, and began rummaging around. He found a massive pot that, although filled with soup, had long since spoiled—rotten to the core and now crawling with green mold. Even the scattered bits of decayed food on the floor had been completely soaked by the rain, rendering them unrecognizable and utterly inedible.

The rain hammered down in a relentless, drenching roar, and from outside the door came a few more clatters accompanied by low, hissing growls. Veyl stole a glance toward that noise and then ducked behind the bar, frantically searching for anything salvageable.

At last, hidden inside an earthen jar, he discovered a dried-out black sausage. This sausage, remarkably, hadn't succumbed to rot or mold—but it was riddled with gnaw marks, no doubt chewed on by rats. When he pulled it out, a couple of cockroaches were still clinging to it.Shaking off those damn bugs, Veyl stuffed the whole sausage into his mouth, devouring it greedily—nearly choking on the bliss of its meager sustenance.

Only when he scrambled through the liquor cabinet in his haste did he find a bottle of grape wine. With shaking hands, he tore off the wax seal and strips of cloth, downing several gulps before he finally let out a long, relieved exhale."Ah, that feels so damn good…"In that moment, Veyl felt as if he'd been granted a new lease on life.

Now that something was in his belly, a few more reserves of strength stirred within him—and for the first time in a long while, he found himself capable of pondering other matters. There had been persistent sounds coming from one of the rooms, yet nothing had ever burst forth from it. This piqued his curiosity.

Patting his stomach, which was only about thirty percent full, Veyl still felt unbearably hungry. Grabbing his spiked hammer in one hand and the wine bottle in the other, he made his way toward the source of the noise. That room, where the sounds persisted, turned out to be the tavern's storeroom and kitchen combined. He remembered there being a fireplace at the very back, with a staircase leading down to the cellar.

But now, the place was in utter disarray, with items strewn about everywhere. Amid the chaos, a frail, emaciated figure was wedged between toppled cabinets—as if a refugee had been trapped under rubble during an earthquake. Near that figure, several patches of dark, smeared blood lay on the floor; those stains, Veyl suspected, belonged to a zombie.

It appeared that there hadn't been just this one undead creature in the room originally—but after the thick fog lifted, even the slower, less agile zombies had managed to crawl away, leaving only this one poor soul behind. Its proximity, almost human in a way, seemed to drive the zombie into a frenzy. The creature shoved aside a chair that was pressing down on its upper body, nearly lunging forward. Yet the cabinet it had pinned its lower half against prevented it from succeeding, forcing it to remain stuck in place, flailing its arms and legs wildly.

Raising his head, Veyl looked at the dead, decaying face before him—and with a start, he shouted,"Little John?!"Almost without thinking, the words spilled out.

Little John wasn't much younger than Veyl; the "Little" was simply to denote that he was the son of Old John—and this father-and-son duo had once owned the tavern. Clearly, the zombie no longer recognized him. It wasn't interested in the scattered food on the ground either; it seemed hell-bent on devouring the man himself.The moment Veyl's voice rang out, the creature went into a mad frenzy, thrashing so violently that it nearly managed to heave the heavy cabinet off its body.

Gazing at that all-too-familiar face, fragments of long-forgotten memories surged back into Veyl's mind, drawing forth a deep, aching sigh."Jesus, after all these years away, I never thought you'd grow so damn tall. I remember how, when you were little, you used to follow me around like a shadow—circling right behind my ass…"With that bittersweet reminiscence, Veyl downed another swig of wine. As he locked eyes with Little John's ice-blue, lifeless gaze, a wave of poignant sorrow washed over him.

"Fuck you!" he roared.

With that, Veyl's spiked hammer came down in a crushing, merciless blow, snapping Little John's neck. The zombie's body convulsed twice, and with two sickening, creaking sounds from its jaw, it finally went limp.Staring at the decayed remains of his childhood companion, Veyl wiped away the tears on his face, exhaled deeply, and after gulping down a large mouthful of wine, felt as though the combination of his furious curse and the mighty hammer had released all the pent-up rage and sorrow inside him.Even though such cursing wasn't exactly proper in these parts—and a priest wasn't supposed to swear—none of that seemed to matter now.

After stowing away his spiked hammer, Veyl's hunger-stricken, green-tinged eyes shifted their focus to the scattered black bread and black sausage on the floor. He crouched down and began wolfing them down hungrily.Once his stomach was finally a little less empty, Veyl moved over to John's motionless body and began rifling through his pockets. Little John had always handled the tavern's accounts, so he surely must have carried some money and keys."Little John, don't blame me for this—I'm sorry, but just rest here for now. Your big brother doesn't know how much longer I can hold on either; if I'm still kicking tomorrow, I'll find time to give you a proper burial."

At that moment, Veyl had neither the heart nor the strength to do anything else—he was cold, tired, and utterly drained.After finding a set of keys and a money pouch, he packed all the edible scraps he could find into his bag. The cellar was not a place he wanted to visit just yet; he feared that whatever lay there—usually nothing more than barrels of wine—might plunge him into deeper despair. For now, he decided to leave a little hope for himself.

That enormous sack, filled not only with black sausage and black bread but also a generous supply of potatoes and sweet potatoes, would be enough to sustain him for ten or eight days at least. So he resolved to wait until the torrential rain finally ceased before exploring the rest of the rooms.

Every sign suggested that the immediate area of the sanctuary was, for now, safe. The monsters seemed to have an aversion to stepping into places free of fog. Or perhaps they simply didn't like them…Dragging his bag back to the main hall, a weary Veyl gathered some firewood and lit the fire pit at its center.Seated in a creaky chair, he warmed himself by the crackling flames while listening to the heavy downpour outside and the sparse patter of lighter rain indoors. A comforting warmth spread through his body, and he couldn't help but feel a small measure of happiness.

Shaking his head and chuckling self-mockingly, Veyl gazed into the fire as the flames leapt and danced wildly—and for a moment, he found himself lost in thought.What now? What the hell was he supposed to do next?

Just as he was drifting off into his reverie, a line of words suddenly emerged from the flames:"You have reclaimed the tavern of your sanctuary…"

Veyl blinked in surprise. These words had appeared only after the fire pit was ignited. Before he could dwell on it any longer, several more lines burst forth from the fire:"You have reclaimed the first building of your sanctuary, but what you don't know is that beneath the fire pit lies something good…Your sanctuary now includes a tavern, whose fire pit is warm, and tonight, with the heavy rain falling, it might even attract some lost adventurers—though you might have to rely on the gods for that.Hurry and recruit your first follower to help guard and build your sanctuary. And from these followers, each with their own talents, you can learn even more.""Current recruitable followers: 1 (With this dilapidated tavern, how many more do you really expect to recruit?)"

These words nearly made Veyl topple from his chair into the fire. In his startled scramble, he accidentally knocked over the entire bag of potatoes into the fire pit.He wasn't about to fuss over it—his mind could only fixate on one word that now flashed in his head: farming?"What the hell does that even mean? Why do I suddenly feel this flicker of hope?" he wondered aloud.

Without pausing to ponder further, Veyl grabbed a stick and began rummaging under the fire pit. When the stick struck something hard and unusual, he pulled it out.It was a scroll, its exterior old and rough, seemingly resistant to the flames. It looked no different from the rolled-up map his father used to have.But on it, Veyl could clearly read a single note:"Sanctuary Scroll (Liege's Edition)"

Unrolling the scroll, he discovered that the map depicted could actually be zoomed in and out at will—a sort of God's-eye view that allowed him to observe the buildings on the map from above.Though most of them were hidden within the fog, the outlines and names still made it possible to discern many of the village houses. Even farther afield were places like the mill on the outskirts of the southern suburb, a vineyard on the northern hillside, and a monastery on the southeastern mountain, all clearly marked.Additionally, the map seemed to be sprinkled with countless floating red dots.He couldn't quite figure out what those red dots represented, but the small golden orb glowing in the tavern appeared to be his own marker.Fixated on that golden dot, some additional notes began to materialize before his eyes. Zooming in, he could finally read the text clearly:

"Character: Veyl WilliamTitle: Baron (Don't doubt it—according to your father's last will… after he left the domain, whether he lived or died, you became the baron.)Title Effect: Just for show (Do you really expect this title to mean anything? You're no solitary, high-and-mighty Baron!)Position: Clergy (Choir Boy, Apprentice Priest)Constitution: 1.2 Wisdom: 0.2Vitality: 6/6 (Constitution×5) Mana: 2/2 (Wisdom×10)Skills:– "The Unsure Hymn (Part I) [Sacred Anthem Level 0]": Currently has mild purifying and anti-inflammatory effects—Praise your sanctuary god!– "The Unmemorized Hymn (Part II) [Divine Retribution Level 0]": Right now, you can't really use this move to 'retribute' your enemies at a critical moment…  But if you were to take that brick-like sacred tome and bash an enemy's head with it, maybe it'd work.– "Inspiration Level 0": Or rather, it should be called "Bullshitting," because though you often speak of God, you actually have no faith—just a goddamn con man!  Yet, your silver tongue seems to work alright, after all, you had nine years of compulsory education and spent a few years hanging around the church.  Hustling those illiterate, fish-lipped foreigners is no problem—so does this ability really count as a skill?Specialties: 1. Spiked Club; 2. Barehanded Walnut Smashing; (Don't get your hopes up—this is all you learned at the Holy See, but at least it made you stronger, didn't it?)Overall Combat Power: 2 (Compared to those refugees on the brink of starvation, you—a well-nourished noble—aren't half bad.)"

As Veyl read through these details, his mind was suddenly filled with a deafening roar—a wave of dizziness that nearly knocked him off his feet."Fuck, I'm such an idiot!" he exclaimed bitterly."Though, damn, I haven't had a walnut in ages…"After a pause, Veyl mused, "Hmm, so this 'Wisdom' really isn't about IQ at all—it's about the power to control mana… but why isn't it called magical power or divine energy? Instead, they call it mana? I'm no master or anything!"

With the rain still coming down and his energy not fully restored, Veyl decided to study the scroll more carefully. At that moment, he noticed a line of small, faded text in the upper right corner of the map. Zooming in, the words materialized clearly:

"SanctuaryStatus: Severely DamagedLiege (Acting): Veyl WilliamBuildings: Castle (Severely Destroyed), Tavern…Divine Grace: 0/1 (Areas enveloped in divine grace are within the sanctuary's protection; they can dispel fog, purify the land, and drive out evil spirits—raising the base amount of divine grace can expand the sanctuary, and spending it may reveal 'miracles.')Resources – Food: 1 Wood: 3 Stone: 20 Metal: 0 Magical Materials: 0Heroes: 0/1Residents: 1/300 (No faith-based citizens or believers, unable to provide divine grace recovery or basic grace)Heroic Spirits (Guards): 0/0 (Requires a Cemetery Spirit Sanctuary; divine grace can be consumed for conversion)Heavenly Servants (Craftsmen): 0/0 (Requires a Cemetery Spirit Sanctuary; divine grace can be consumed for conversion)"

At the very bottom of these notes, a line of bright red text screamed:"Your Sanctuary is Hanging by a Thread"—You should see those red dots, numbering 67 in all.The light from your sanctuary at night won't be enough to ward off many monsters; they'll be wandering about, just waiting for nightfall to come and feast…

A cold sweat broke out all over Veyl's body!!