Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended [Part One]

CHAPTER 188: The Mysterious Hunger

Silvestia's tone shifted, taking on somewhat of a melancholic edge as she spoke. "There are four of these obelisks in Lunarel," she said, her voice quieter. "This one sits near the outer edge of the city where the lower classes reside. It's got a bit of a rough history, so not many people come here anymore. But if you can look past that, it's the best spot to take in the whole city from above."

Fay's eyebrows knitted in curiosity. "Rough history?"

Silvestia turned, her eyes locking onto the satchel she had left on the ground behind them. "Hey, since we've got such a great view, why don't we dig into the snacks we got earlier?"

Fay's eyes lit up, her cowlick shifting into the shape of a heart as she beamed. But when her gaze fell on a curious object in the back of the room where the light barely reached, the tendril of hair shifted to an antenna instead. "Wait—what is that?"

Silvestia squinted in the direction Fay was pointing. "...Is that hay?"

Both girls cautiously inched toward the edge of the darkness. As their eyes adjusted to the gloom, they spied a nest tucked away in the back of the chamber. Nestled within was a large and unfamiliar egg.

"Alright, I'm going to safely assume this isn't the egg of a Baderhen or a Platyquack," Silvestia muttered, frowning as she examined the object.

Fay's cowlick twisted into a question mark. "Then whose egg do you think it is?"

Silvestia shook her head. "I've never seen one this size before," she responded, scanning the area around the nest with caution.

Fay's gaze drifted to the empty shells—each one at least forty times larger than a typical Baderhen egg. "This one looks like it was abandoned."

Silvestia grunted as she attempted to lift it. "It's at least twenty times heavier than a normal egg, too."

Fay gently ran her fingers along the egg's slightly rough surface, tracing the silver streaks that stood out against its deep yale blue base. She gave it a cautious sniff. "Do you think it's still alive?"

Silvestia smirked lightly. "Pretty sure you won't smell anything without cracking it open first," she murmured, pressing her ear to the shell in search of a heartbeat. "An egg this size could feed the entire royal family several times over."

Fay hesitated, then glanced at Silvestia sheepishly. "Do you think we should... try hatching it?"

"Huh?" Silvestia raised an eyebrow, her surprise evident. "I thought you were going to suggest pawning it off at the Adventurers' Guild, but hatching it?"

Fay's smile faltered and her cowlick drooped slightly. "So... no?"

Silvestia peeked at her from one open eye, her expression softening. "Well, I suppose it can't hurt to try."

Fay's face lit up, and she cheered, "Yay!"

***

The air trembled with the reverent voices of the congregation as they lifted their hymn to the heavens. Their voices, steady and pure, wove together in sacred harmony, filling the cathedral with devotion.

"O Radiant Zepharion, Keeper of Purity, bathe us in your cleansing light. Let our hearts be as unblemished as the morning dew, our souls as gentle as the whispering wind. Guide us, O Blessed One, and sanctify our steps that we may walk forever in your grace."

The hymn swelled, echoing off the marble pillars, a song of faith carried on the breath of the faithful. Midnight perched atop the statue of the goddess, his sleek black form blending seamlessly into the cathedral's dim recesses.

From his vantage point, he watched the congregation below. The scent of incense curled upward. It mingled with the light of countless candles, casting flickering halos upon the faithful.

The feline's olive-green eyes narrowed as he observed their expressions. Some were serene, their worship genuine. Others, however, betrayed something else—an edge of hunger, impatience laced with barely restrained fervor. Midnight's tail flicked thoughtfully. He had seen zeal before, but this... this was different.

His gaze lingered on those who fidgeted, their eyes darting anxiously toward the altar where the bishop prepared the sacred morsel. Their breathing quickened as the time of communion drew near, hands trembling as if the very act of waiting was unbearable.

Midnight's curiosity stirred. Surely a mere blessing couldn't provoke such desperation. Was it the dough itself? Was it really that delicious? He made a mental note to investigate these people further.

Suddenly, despite his concealment, a prickle of awareness made his fur bristle. The feline stilled, eyes flicking toward the bishop who, mid-ritual, subtly glanced upward—toward him. Midnight's pupils thinned into sharp slits. The man couldn't possibly see him through the shadows, but he felt something. A wariness, a fleeting suspicion.

Midnight considered his options. He could stay and observe a little longer, but he decided to err on the side of caution instead. This mission was reconnaissance, not confrontation. His master already had his hands full dealing with the royal court; he couldn't recklessly bring the church into the fold, as well... not yet.

Silently, he withdrew, melting deeper into the shadows, his form dissipating into the unseen. Even as he departed, he didn't forget. Those whose behavior stood out—their unhinged anticipation, their gluttonous need—had been marked. Just as every being carried a unique mana signature, so too did every shadow hold its own essence. And Midnight, a Djinn of the darkness, could memorize and trace it across vast distances.

For now, he would wait and observe the designated targets. Afterwards, he would likely know exactly where to look next.