Ivaim gazed at the ruined altar, its stone surface cracked and strewn with dust. Unlit candles lay scattered across the floor, some broken, their wax trails marking where they'd fallen.
Nearby, Moris, a brown-furred cat, lay unconscious. Ivaim let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
'One of the reasons I keep getting attacked,' he mused bitterly, 'is probably because I'm not seen as an legitimate or orthodox Reality Master yet. To most people, that makes me a fair game... an easy target for anyone looking to hunt down the unknown.'
'Even without the system reminding me that I'm on the verge of self-destruction, I'm still in serious danger,' he thought grimly, eyes narrowing at the notification.
'All because I don't have enough believers.'
The thought was both frustrating and exhausting. His gaze flicked to the faintly glowing notification hovering in his peripheral vision.
