The Elder of Oakhaven was not a stupid man.
He was fat, yes. He was greedy, yes. But he had survived three famines and two goblin raids by knowing exactly which hands to grease.
And right now, his hands were trembling as he poured wine for his guest.
The guest was a man clad in silver plate armor, his face hidden behind a visor shaped like a weeping angel. A heavy mace rested against the table, the metal glowing with a faint, holy light.
Inquisitor Valerius of the Silver Hand.
"Five more families left last night," the Elder reported, sweat beading on his forehead. "They took their tools. They took their chickens. They went to the Ruin."
"To follow a cripple girl?" Valerius asked. His voice was smooth, cultured, and utterly terrifying.
"They say... they say the ghost feeds them. They say the blacksmith is forging High Steel. They say the wolves patrol the perimeter for them."
Valerius stood up and walked to the window, looking towards the forest.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the mana of the land.
"I do not smell a ghost," the Inquisitor murmured. "And I do not smell a demon. Demons smell of sulfur and chaos."
He closed his eyes, focusing.
"I smell... Structure. I smell Logic. I smell a Order trying to assert itself over the wild."
The Elder blinked. "A Domain? You mean... a God?"
"A fledgling one," Valerius confirmed, turning back. His eyes burned with religious zeal. "A False Idol is attempting to establish a Seat of Power. It is using 'Order' to seduce your chaotic peasants."
He picked up his mace.
"This is not a civil rebellion, Elder. This is a Theological Cancer. And we do not treat cancer with taxes."
"We cut it out."
***
Zephyr felt the disturbance instantly.
[System Warning: High-Level Entity Detected within 5km radius.]
[Faction: Church of the Silver Hand]
[Threat Level: A-Rank (Level 20+ Elite)]
"A-Rank," Zephyr noted, floating above the busy construction site. "[Current FP: 57]. Win Probability: 0.00%."
He looked down at his people.
Elara was teaching a group of children how to weave nets.
Kael was hammering a new plowshare.
Jinx and Pip were playing tag around the blast furnace.
They were happy. They were safe.
And they were walking targets.
"My Domain," Zephyr realized. "The [Domain of Order] and [Forge]... they act as a beacon. To a High Priest, I'm a lighthouse in the dark."
He looked at the forest. The Inquisitors would be here by dawn. He couldn't fight them. Not yet.
He had to move the pieces.
"Elara."
She stood up instantly. "Lord Architect?"
"Gather everyone. Drop your tools. We are leaving."
"Leaving?" Kael stopped hammering. "But... the furnace. The walls. We just built them!"
"Sunk Cost Fallacy," Zephyr snapped. "The asset is not the stone. The asset is the People. If you stay, you die."
"Where do we go?" Elara asked, fear creeping back into her voice. "The forest is full of beasts."
"Not beasts," Zephyr thought. "XP Farms."
He pulled up the map.
There was a location he had been saving. A [Hidden Dungeon] he remembered from the game . It was dangerous. It was full of traps.
But it was underground. And Inquisitors hated underground combat.
"We are going to the Sunken Temple," Zephyr announced. "Pack only food and weapons. Leave the rest."
"But Lord," Elara whispered. "That is a place of death."
"No," Zephyr said, his golden eyes burning with cold calculation. "*It is a place of Leverage."
He looked at the Elder's house in the distance, sensing the holy fire approaching.
"He called the cops," Zephyr thought. "So I'm going to luring them into a killbox."
"Move out. Double time."