Chapter 23: The Chosen Young Fox of the Lord of Wishmakers

They entered the prayer chamber. Honey knelt devoutly before the imposing statue of the deity, closed her eyes, and began to meditate. Vinigo glanced around, then knelt beside her, joining in contemplative silence.

As expected, meditation yielded no effect; the power of this world rejected him.

Vinigo had anticipated this. He chuckled at himself ruefully and was about to rise when a sudden thought struck him.

Earlier: that secret chamber, the mysterious tapestry, the wondrous magic circle, the dreamlike otherworldly space, and that...

That clear and distant voice?

Yes, that voice had said her name was Sophie, hadn't it... Sophie? The same name as the young bounty hunter girl carrying the greatsword, yet belonging to some unknown entity?

What was that? Vinigo silently mouthed the name Sophie.

He felt a stirring within, closed his eyes, and sank his consciousness into the depths of his soul, repeating the name inwardly. Something stirred faintly in his mind; no one told him, yet, as if by instinct, Vinigo understood this title.

The Rift of the World... Sophie... the Wingless Angel, Mistress of Wishes?

After brief reflection, Vinigo began to pray to her.

A statue was but a statue; Vinigo was certain that no matter how sincerely he prayed, he would never establish a channel of faith with the Lord of Light before him. Thus, to pray to another god in front of this statue was no different than praying in the wilderness.

Mistress of Wishes?

A deity of scant, weak power, with few followers—in fact, perhaps only Vinigo himself.

Her divine authority was narrow, limited solely to granting wishes. Wishing—a formidable-sounding domain, yet some mages could accomplish similar, limited feats through magic.

In truth, wishing was largely a matter of equivalent exchange. The price? Costly magical materials, mana, life force, the soul, and so forth.

Thus, the Mistress of Wishes was a rather obscure deity.

Moreover... the Rift of the World? Was she an exiled god?

"You came to see me so soon? How strange—I thought you would first try to contact some higher gods," a melodious voice emerged from boundless darkness, tinged with curiosity and a deeper note of melancholy.

"The Mistress of Wishes truly is a little-known deity, my lady," Vinigo sighed inwardly. Of course, all of this occurred only within the illusory sea of his consciousness.

"The Lord of Light is a mighty god. As his former subordinate, I ought to have gathered prayers for him and compiled wishes into neat ledgers," the voice laughed softly. "But I, born to be an angel of absolute order, was given a rebellious heart. I refused to follow the same routines forever. So... I stole a fragment of his divine power and claimed a minor divinity over wishes."

"You were exiled, then?" Vinigo prompted her, playing along.

"My proud snowy wings were cut away, my light stripped, and I was banished to the rifts between worlds. Only then, seeing your soul pass through this rift to descend into this world, did I have the chance to leave this barely noticeable marker within you," the lovely voice rang out with a tinkle of laughter.

"So, that's why I can meet you, who do not exist within this world's system of faith? Was the tapestry with its strange magic circle also a sign you left behind long ago?" Vinigo asked.

"No, not exactly. But that tapestry was indeed a treasure of the Lord of Light, a mere replica, yet it can amplify the power of faith. For a cleric, it could grant dozens of times their usual divine might for a brief period. Yet for you..."

"It was just a key, wasn't it?" Vinigo smiled. "So, am I now a chosen one?"

"Yes, you are my chosen. But, alas, I am a weak god, so there is little benefit to being my chosen—hee hee..."

"To enjoy your blessings alone is hardly a loss."

"Very well, as my chosen, I grant you this favor: I allow you to make one wish to me each day," the voice declared.

Vinigo was taken aback. Was this boon not too generous?

"However, I dwell in the rift between worlds, so the power I can grant you is quite limited. The wishes you receive will be meager. If you want greater power, you'll have to find a way to free me!"

Hey... even a weak deity shouldn't be so crude, should she?

"I must say, you think rather highly of me," Vinigo replied wryly.

"Never mind, you are weak now, but I sense within you endless potential—the kind that could grow into divinity itself. Oh, right—just asking you to do heavy labor seems a bit much, so here, a little reward." The Mistress of Wishes giggled.

Before Vinigo's eyes, another strange eyeball appeared.

"Like the Mirror of Self, this artifact is crafted from the living eye of a dragon. Though it holds only faint divine might, it is a true artifact."

"The Mirror of Self grants microscopic insight into every detail of oneself, but this..." Vinigo felt a stirring within, but before he could react, just as before, the eyeball shot into his socket, and a burst of searing pain engulfed his every sense.

When Vinigo regained awareness, his eyes had changed entirely.

A pair of dragon's eyes.

The left, called the Mirror of Self, to scrutinize one's own being; the right, the Eye of Discovery, which, when fixed upon any target—living or inanimate—would gradually reveal its secrets.

As with the Mirror of Self, what you see is difficult to describe in words, yet you know clearly what you are seeing, as if by instinct. Just as a child cannot explain the science of vision, yet sees the world all the same.

Of course, the finer the detail, the deeper the truth, the longer one must gaze. The living, in turn, will feel an increasing discomfort under such scrutiny, eventually becoming aware of being watched.

Still, this was a most useful artifact—far more valuable than a staff that fires powerful fireballs, or a ring that greatly increases strength or agility.

Know yourself with the left, know your foe with the right... does that not guarantee victory in every battle?

In theory, yes. In practice, the path before Vinigo was still long.

Well then, let's try this "very limited wishcraft," Vinigo thought, looking at his right hand.

He suddenly looked up and asked, "Surely there are some restrictions to this wish? There's no hint at all?"

Should he try it? In games where wish spells appeared, the rewards were usually tempting, but the potential for disaster was equally great.

Ah, Sophie had said her wishes were "very limited," which meant the scope of the wish must be quite small. Even if something went wrong, the disaster would not be too great.

"O my god, whom I trust, your sole devout believer prays to you now," Vinigo intoned, palms together and voice low, "All praise to you, great and exalted one. Merciful Lord, answer the prayer of your faithful. I wish for a pile of gold coins."

"My wishes have restrictions. State your wish in three single words. What you get depends on my mood," Sophie's voice echoed in Vinigo's mind, utterly irresponsible.

"A safe pile of coins," Vinigo replied without hesitation.

"A humble wish. As you desire, so shall it be," the voice in his mind responded.

Then, a pile of coins appeared before Vinigo—fifteen in total, scattered in a messy heap.

The only problem was, these were not the standard coins of the kingdom, but much smaller.

Those fifteen coins amounted to perhaps two or three of the kingdom's standard gold coins.

Not bad, all things considered. This was only Vinigo's first attempt.

He looked up and saw Honey, who had just finished her own prayer, staring at him in astonishment. He smiled, "What is it? Surprised? How did your prayer go?"

"The Lord of Light granted me the power to use holy magic, but it seems I still have a lot of practice ahead," Honey said, stretching out her right hand, where a small ball of light danced at her fingertips.

Vinigo nodded. He reset his character build and watched Honey play with the orb of light. When the time was right, Vinigo rebuilt his character.

Still a white mage, this time at level five.

As the two left the dedicated prayer chamber, Anthony Stone noticed them. As the kingdom's highest archpriest, his sensitivity to divine power far exceeded that of ordinary people. At a glance, he could see that the little priest girl had received the Lord of Light's grace.

Plenty came here to become priests, but almost none received immediate divine favor from a single prayer.

In his memory, only one person had achieved this in the past fifty years: the kingdom's greatest archpriest, Sir Anthony Stone himself.

"Little girl, well done, very well done," Sir Stone nodded to Honey. He then turned to Vinigo, still dressed as a white mage, and paused in mild confusion.

Strange... Something was off, yet the gentle, docile strength in this young man seemed to have grown stronger as well.

To meet two promising young people in a single day—and one so young at that... Sir Stone suddenly felt cheerful. He waved his hand, signaling the priests to bring forth a small chest displayed to the side.

What was that? For Vinigo, would it prove to be a boon?