On the docks of Fishing-Sail Port, the salty, fishy wind couldn’t blow away the heat of tempers drawn to the breaking point. A brawl erupted without warning.

A Puji-handler who had just completed a commission and earned handsomely heard, loud and clear, the venomous taunts from several adventurers lounging against cargo crates, mocking the fungal marks on his face.

Three exchanges of harsh words were all it took for anger to smash through reason’s dam. Fists replaced feeble arguments.

The scene spiraled out of control in an instant.

Nearby Puji-handlers, seeing this, immediately drove the Pujis—who had been busily unloading the day’s catch from fishing boats—to swarm over and help.

On the other side, the adventurers’ companions roared and plunged into the melee. In a heartbeat, men’s snarls, women’s screams, and the Pujis’ distinctive “pu-pu” noises tangled together, as human fists and feet crashed against writhing mycelial tendrils.

With a harsh “screech” of metal, someone finally lost patience and drew a weapon.

Just as a simple brawl was about to escalate into a bloody clash, the drumbeat of synchronized, heavy footfalls arrived on time.

“Wings of Judgement! Cease at once!”

With a voice sharp with authority, Solarin led her squad onto the scene. The holy sigils blazing on their breastplates caught the sunlight, radiating an unquestionable command that immediately suppressed the chaos.

Well-drilled Church warriors plunged into the fray, swiftly separating and subduing both sides.

Soon, every human combatant—Puji-handler and adventurer alike—was detained.

But when the squad faced the nearly one hundred Pujis lingering on the spot, they hesitated.

In the past, when arresting troublemakers with bonded beast-companions, they simply tossed the critters into sturdy cages.

But this dense sea of Pujis… there weren’t that many cages.

One warrior instinctively turned to consult their squad leader, only to find the captain braced against a wall some distance away, bent double, retching so hard it seemed even bile might come up.

Just moments earlier, as her gaze swept over the familiar Pujis all over the docks, Solarin had reflexively activated [Truth Vision]…

In a blink, the breezy, sunlit port shattered and bled of color.

In its place surged countless interwoven swathes of chaos, greedily clinging to every corner of the city, as if seeking to assimilate all things into that profane tableau.

“Mayn… handle the rest…” Solarin forced the words out to the priest who ran over.

She then shook off the helping hand, face pale, nearly spent, and staggered toward the Company Commander’s temporary command post.

…

Ten minutes later.

“You’re asking what’s going on with this city… Haven’t you noticed that in the last two months our rations have had a lot more dried mushroom slices?” The Wings of Judgement Company Commander eyed the suddenly arrived Solarin, puzzled.

“You mean…” Solarin’s complexion turned visibly paler.

“Uurgh—!”

Watching his subordinate heave again, the Commander stepped forward and patted her back, helpless.

“Is it really that bad? That… that thing of yours—” He gestured around his own eyes.

“[Truth… Vision],” Solarin supplied weakly, her stomach roiling again.

“Right, right. So the skill really is that nasty?” The Commander knew her ability was unusual, but he couldn’t feel the impact himself.

Solarin took the paper offered to her and wiped the corner of her mouth. Her voice trembled a little.

“It’s not just nausea… it’s severe contamination! I don’t dare use it again right now! And what’s with those Pujis? Why are monsters allowed to roam the streets?”

“They’re not roaming,” the Commander—who knew a bit about this—explained patiently. “They’re Pujis controlled by Puji-handlers. Think of it like contracted beast-companions, only simpler and with a lower threshold.”

After the Commander laid out the basics of “Puji-handlers” and symbiosis, Solarin could hardly believe her ears.

“For… for a bit of strength, they let that unknown thing parasitize their bodies? How is that any different from those degenerates who fled to the Empire for eternal life and willingly became vampires?!”

“Hey! Watch it!” The Commander cut her off at once. “We’re here to ease tensions and maintain order, not pour oil on the fire! Not one word of that outside!”

“But these monsters… at essence… they’re the same thing…” Solarin struggled to articulate the suffocating unity and chaotic nature she had sensed behind every Puji.

She’d once thought it would stay confined to The Dungeon and perish with it—never imagining it would become like this.

The Commander listened with a frown, pondered, and said, “Concluding all Pujis are one entity just because they share a chaotic hue is too hasty.”

Solarin opened her mouth to rebut, but he continued:

“However, your observations and concerns aren’t worthless. Here’s what we’ll do: use your spare time to write a detailed observation report. Describe only what you saw—strictly objective—strip out conjecture. I’ll attach it to the regular dispatch for the Bishop’s review. In the meantime, avoid using that skill. Don’t forget: maintaining order is our top priority here.”

It was a reasonable course. Solarin could only agree and turn to leave.

“Oh, and,” the Commander added behind her, pointing at the mess on the floor, “on your way out, have a servant come clean this up.”

…

“Well?” asked Mayn, the priestly companion waiting outside.

After relaying the Commander’s arrangement, Solarin asked, “Mayn, do you think I’m overthinking this?”

Mayn glanced at her and answered honestly, “I can’t imagine any being that could simultaneously direct such a vast number of individuals to act independently. And this isn’t just one The Dungeon’s worth of Pujis—we’re talking Mordu, Fishing-Sail Port, and Norwid. Who knows how many Puji-handlers and Pujis there are. To say they’re all one existence is just too…”

He wanted to say “absurd,” but felt the word too harsh, and couldn’t find a better one for the moment.

Solarin didn’t mind. She thought carefully. Indeed, as Mayn said, it was impossible to imagine what such an existence would be like.

If all were it, if it were everywhere—wouldn’t that make it akin to a god?

Too outrageous. So outrageous she began to doubt herself.

The Commander and Mayn were right—she’d been too rash.

In the end, it was only a hypothesis extended from her rare, poorly benchmarked skill, [Truth Vision], lacking corroboration.

In any case… she would just write the report honestly.

…

What Solarin didn’t know was that her report was not ignored.

After the Commander submitted it to the regional Bishop, it kept moving upward. Ultimately, the document landed on the desk of Ditas, High Archbishop of Light.

Ditas’s gaze drifted over the contents. His old, fathomless eyes betrayed no ripple.

He was silent for a time, then calmly placed the report into a drawer, issuing no directives.

He had an important meeting later with several dukes. The core agenda: how to systematically integrate those promising “Puji-handlers” into the kingdom’s military framework to resist the imminent demon incursion.