Already, Equinox and the others were shown more of the mysteries that had enshrouded this place.
With the light emanating from Astrid's body, they could see markings on the walls. The symbols were intriguing, however it was clear that they were mostly playful drawings carved from boredom; while the little that seemed to hold deeper secrets were in a language they could not understand.
Well, most of them.
"... 'Great planner, foreteller of calamity'." Ikky read out loud, squinting his eyes and moving closer to the wall, yet not able to make out another coherent sentence.
"Ah! No wonder you're like this! Sir Sullivan over here called you, Ikky, so I guess it's your story memory that's related to the 'omnipresent' deities of the Gardens of Olympus!" Timofey suddenly burst into laughter.
"What's so funny?" Ikky turned around.
But Timofey didn't answer. "Tell me, Ikky, were you royalty, or rags? And don't say your Story was from one of the 'well off' folks. It's hard to imagine the lives of those mindless idiots could ever result into anything interesting."
"Why do you of all people have a problem with other people's origins? Your name is Timothy for people who can't stop saying - fat man!- instead of - that man!"
He continued, imitating, "Ver you rrroyal tea or rrags? Ha! Come on Timothy, your tongue can't be that lazy."
The entire room turned silent, Timofey's expression hidden in the dark.
"I— it's great you understand the language. We haven't found any natives so far other than the ghosts." Ivan started, quickly changing the subject.
"Ghosts?" Astrid asked.
"Indeed. At least that's what we're calling them for now. To elaborate, the ghosts are the spirits possessing those prophets we met along the way.
They start out as confused individuals, but gradually recall their memories up to the last. When they finally remember what they've been through, what had killed them in the past, they run mad, but still do not leave their hosts' bodies."
Soon the atmosphere turned a bit more formal, with the four of them sitting on benches made out of the same rocky materials as the walls. They were quite far apart, but could listen to each other talk nonetheless.
"Some of you may have noticed by now that the red trees in the overworld are no simple plants— not even by the standards of the Realm of Augury. In fact, take the initiative to observe their essence and you just might find out that they are in fact Sins. And although there are methods of confirming this claim for yourselves, such as burning the barks, I can not give you an explanation for why it is so.
The other matter I think all of us should ponder on is that this realm posseses low spiritual abundance. It should be no urgent mission to deal with the calamity that dwells in this world, so why are you two here?" He looked at the Believers.
"To help." Astrid replied.
Timofey chuckled. "You sure you weren't just forced to come here? I mean, you were trying to murder one of the people you've come to offer 'help' to just earlier."
He turned back to Ivan, speaking before Ikky could give a piece of his own mind. "I'd come here with my own intentions, thinking myself lucky in fact to be amongst the two mandatory believers accepted to participate in the anointment. However, I have come across a few more of us. The Sumeru lotus are a stickler for rules, so there must have been something really strange with this year's anointment that would force their hand into making an exception."
"They could be desperately trying to stop the prophets of the Omens of Night's numbers from dwindling too much."
Timofey's ears perked up at being allowed to have access to confidential information such as this. After all, not many got to know the numbers of success of the annual first Ordeals. This was perhaps due to the fact that an unfavourable ratio of the success to the failures might cause unnecessary unrest to the masses who couldn't do anything about it anyway.
Ivan finished, "There were after all, only ninety-nine new prophets this year." This was much to Timofey and Equinox's suprise. In fact, they were beyond shocked.
"Ninety-nine... Out of hundreds of thousands chosen." Timofey muttered slowly.
Astrid and Ivanhoe thought, who wouldn't be in this state after finding that out? It was a very outrageous number of Seer counts.
His lips quivered. Timofey was trying his hardest not to burst into laughter.
'This truly is the perfect time! Hahahaha! After eight omens, finally! ...Hmm... Chevreuse, is that why you're here, Chevreuse? Because you've known long before me?! There's definitely more than meets the eye if this is the grounds for the anointment of prophets who've seen such severe omens. Then that beam of crimson light must be... I have to get to the Catalyst before he does!'
"If you don't mind, I'll be on my way now." Timofey suddenly stood up to leave.
Ivan who'd been watching the man's eyes shift rapidly as he schemed, could guess quite a few reasons why Timofey was agitated. And as a prophet like him, albeit in a lower hierarchy, Ivan had come to this anointment grounds with the same reason as many others— to find an Ordeal Catalyst.
Ordeal Catalysts are objects with immense spiritual essence, which when fused with a central catalyst with ties to a story memory or powerful spirit, can forge an Ordeal required for ascension to a higher hierarchy.
With Anointment grounds essentially being ruins of lands that had been plagued and destroyed by evil spirits, they were fertile with these catalytic materials. This is the main reason why prophets who'd been anointed before come back again to participate, even going as far as willingly breaking apart their established groups for a reason to enter.
Ivan got on his feet as well. "Forgive me for asking this of you, but since you and Mr Chevreuse are both from the Omens of Order, I was hoping you'd help me convince him to—"
"To help you?" Timofey guessed. However, Ivan surprisingly shook his head.
The Sullivan finished, "To contain his hubris. Something tells me, the Lotus are watching this Anointment very closely. And they won't take well to his... murderous tendencies."
Timofey laughed loudly before he turned his face to the door. He looked like he'd heard a funny joke.
"You nobles have reliable sources of information considering what you do. But more often than not, your knowledge of other prophets ends up being so far off the mark, it's ridiculous."
He scoffed as he left, his mocking voice echoing through the dark passage, "A prophet of the Omens of Bedlam asking a prophet from the Omens of Order to... behave! Ha! Maybe the world really is coming to an end!"
"Pshh! More food for us anyway." Ikky bade the annoying believer good riddance. He then turned to the other two with an important question,
"He does have a portion of food we can split, right?"
Ivan's face bore a contemplative frown. He knows there are prophets especially skilled in fooling the prying eyes of the world around them about their true intentions and capabilities, for their own various reasons. This was especially so for the more infamous ones like Chevreuse.
But nothing good could possibly come out of a person who'd forged their entire visage around evil as much as that man has.
'Locksley can handle him.' Aos-sia spoke with the intent of reassuring Ivan, but those words had rather the opposite effect, making his heart skip a beat.
'Aye, let's... let's hope it doesn't come to that. At least not anytime soon.
His right foot stepped ahead of the other and he followed the restless believer of the Omens of Order. Ivan hadn't just given Timofey such vital information without wanting something in return after all.
Ikky on the other hand was left with his important question unanswered. He hadn't eaten his fill in days!
"There are levels to social awareness. Yours is on the negative scale." Yaga commented.
She added, "Fortunately for you, I heard a few talking about gathering hunting parties while we were on our way here."
"What?!" Ikky suddenly leapt off his backside, startling Astrid off her seat.
"Let's go!" He turned to the door and marched out. "... To go help those hardworking souls out."
———
"Don't drink from the river!", Theseus had heard them say as he arrived.
But he wouldn't attempt such a demeaning act anyway. Any water that would go into his mouth would have to be boiled, filtered through the whitest of fabric and held out in the sun by the hierodules for half a day at least.
Why then would he stoop to such a level as drink from the same water other men and women were squatting over.
"Where is this river from? And this breeze..." He raised his head up, feeling the cool wind caress his face.
His thoughts were soon interrupted by a woman clearing her throat loudly beside him.
Theseus turned his head down to look at this woman taking a bath in front of him. His eyes suddenly sprung open in shock and he quickly turned to look the other way.
"Impudence! Do you think you can just take baths wherever you wish?! Or do you just have no shame, woman!" He reprimanded.
Esra rose an eyebrow of confusion, then looked down at her fully clothed body. She was wearing a robe even— one of the few tattered ones they had found lying around which people now took baths in. The robes were thin, some stained with blood that couldn't be washed away so easily. But they were all the unprepared women had to use to cleanse themselves after days of accumulating dirt in this realm.
She sighed at the man's flustered behaviour then asked,
"Did you come to take a bath as well, Theseus? You should wash here because it's closer to this... small waterfall."
Theseus continued to shout with his body faced away. "Proper manners is important, even moreso for a woman. If you must display your brashness, do so as far away from me as possible!" He scoffed before walking away.
Esra looked like she had just gotten a few more question marks pop up over her head.
Watching closely as he left, she nodded to her Augur spirit. "Keep an eye on him for a bit. Lemme just... soak in here for a little while longer."
The Believer groaned, sliding back down into the water.