The Paladin in the Abyss

"How do you communicate?" Bruto asked curiously. "You know, if I had an old man’s voice in my head since I was a child, I would have gone mad long ago..."

"Partly because our communication is one-way, most of it resembles sleep-talking gibberish, only occasionally containing some useful knowledge," the Half-elf shrugged. "I know this sounds strange, but it’s more like I sneaked into His mind, like a child who unintentionally wanders into an adult’s room and nobody notices you, at least not at first... Does that make sense?"

"But later, He noticed you?"

"Yes, just as Alamir just mentioned, the mentor craves intense emotions, and when I opened the Lord’s barn and saw the mountain of grain, thinking about my best friend who had sold himself to a band of robbers out of hunger a few days earlier, my emotions surged almost uncontrollably, and at that moment, my mentor spoke to me directly for the first time—the rest of the story is a long one. Essentially, whenever I collect intense emotions, whether my own or someone else’s, the mentor shows satisfaction, and after accumulating a sufficient amount, she even grants me new powers and spells. However, I want to emphasize that she never asked me to actively generate any intense emotions, just to collect them..."

"But not all followers are like you," Alamir interjected seriously. "Many covet the Raven Madam’s rewards, longing for His power and knowledge. Those people actively instigate conflicts, spread plagues, and create disasters, simply because pain and suffering generate intense emotions more easily, thus pleasing the tragedy’s madam."

"I can’t deny that," the Half-elf said with some pain, nodding. "And that is also why many hold prejudices against the mentor and the Shadow-Kai. But I also believe that this is not the mentor’s intention; she merely wants to escape complete destruction."

At this moment, the sound of wings flapping filled the air again, and a black shadow quickly approached from the horizon, soon landing again on the stone in front of the Half-elf. Lancelot keenly realized that, although very similar, this raven was not the same as the one before.

The black bird opened its beak and emitted a series of unpleasant calls, containing seemingly complex transformations, and Lancelot sensed a faint mental fluctuation. The white-haired, red-eyed Half-elf leaned in to listen, nodding solemnly from time to time, and posed some questions in that strange language, to which the raven responded one by one.