Vana's "Reputation"

Through the thick mist, three small boats silently docked at the end of a gentle slope in one corner of the harbor.

Duncan was the first to set foot on this bizarre little island the Annihilation Cultists called the "Holy Land."

The surroundings were silent. The drifting mist carried a chill, and the artificial structures rising and falling throughout the harbor looked hazy through the fog. The edges of the buildings seemed to merge with the distant terrain, their outlines blurred, while a few dim yellow lights shone through the mist in the distance, offering not the slightest sense of reassurance.

"Not a sound..." Feeling the cold permeating the fog, Shirley unconsciously hugged and rubbed her arms as she looked around. "A'gou, can you smell any 'human scent'?"

"No scent of the living. Just a faint smell of the dead, mixed in with a strong Abyssal aura," A'gou muttered, carefully sensing its surroundings. Blood-red Faint Light flickered in its hollow eye sockets. "...It feels more and more like my 'home.' Not just the aura—even the 'atmosphere'... it's somewhat similar."

It raised its head and gazed into the mist-shrouded interior of the island with its empty sockets, sounding puzzled. "A lot of things here feel like my 'home,' but also... not quite. I can't explain it."

"Your home has an environment like this?" Shirley's attention was clearly elsewhere. "Then your living conditions are pretty terrible. No wonder you said the Abyssal Demons back home usually had nothing to chew on except each other and rocks..."

"I don't like the atmosphere here." Vana frowned deeply, keeping watch on the surroundings as she spoke softly. "This place keeps reminding me of Frosthold City-State back then..."

Shirley waved a hand. "Mist, silent streets, squirming mud, and primordial duplicates suddenly popping out, right? We get