Rites

Instinct of Life

To [xiaochou.name], death was the most natural thing in the world. So why did people resist it so fiercely? [xiaochou.name] wanted to meet the most ordinary of souls, to see how they faced life and death.

ID: 5000339

Type: None

Tips: None

Duration: 1 days

Waits For: 0 days

Marked as New Only on First Occurrence: 0

Starts Automatically: No

Triggers Result Automatically: No

Tag Tips: None

Tag Tips Up: None

Tag Tips Text:

Random Text: None

Random Text Up: None

Actions When Wait Expires

This rite has no actions when the wait expires.

Slots

Slot #1
The creature that listened to your tale

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: No

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

Pops: None

Slot #2
Your example

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: No

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

Pops: None

Activation Conditions

This rite has no activation conditions.

Outcome

Prior

This rite has no prior outcome.

Regular

Inal couldn’t even remember when she’d made such an impressive friend as [s1.name]! But under the Mirror’s magic, she simply accepted it…

All day, [s1.name] lingered by Inal’s side, listening to her chatter and hum like a cheerful lark as she flitted about the kitchen, conjuring up all manner of little pastries.

When [s1.name] asked about the meaning of life, Inal just shook her head. “Oh, I don’t understand such deep things… But if I had to say, I just want Madam to be happy every day! That’s enough for me.”

Why would someone’s wish rest on another’s happiness? Why did serving and staying beside another bring such joy? [s1.name] still couldn’t fathom it. The Mirror didn’t understand why humans shaped food into such intricate forms, nor why hands accustomed to wielding a sword now fumbled with pastry dough, untamed and clumsy…

In the end, they sat on the steps and shared the misshapen treats unfit for any table. Watching the carefree light in Xiaoyuan’s eyes, [s1.name] felt something real—sweet and bright.

Conditions:

Result:

Habib didn’t mind an extra pair of unpaid hands, so [s1.name] slipped into the Guesthouse’s kitchen without trouble.

A warrior’s blade-work was crude compared to a cook’s. [s1.name] watched, dazzled, as Habib butchered half a lamb with practiced ease—this cut for stew, that one for roasting—as if he knew the Creator’s creatures better than the Creator Himself.

Yet when [s1.name] asked of life’s meaning, Habib only said, "A man shouldn’t live too wisely."

"Take sheep, cattle, camels—if you see at once how best to carve them, which parts taste finest, you can’t love them anymore." He stirred the steaming pot, tasted the broth, then nodded. "Done. Eat. A full belly matters more than anything."

He spoke no more, and [s1.name] asked no further, only muttered "Huh" before—under Habib’s stunned gaze—lifting the massive cauldron, fit to feed dozens, and slamming it down in the courtyard with a boom.

They say the tremor toppled tents in the Dark Alley that day. It became the slums’ newest tale to frighten kids.

Conditions:

Result:

In the days [s1.name] trailed after Nayla, it did nothing at all. Nayla needed no help killing—she preferred to watch the blade dance, beautiful and deadly. She drank endlessly, her cheeks flushed crimson without rouge. When pleased, she laughed freely, scattering gold like leaves; when angered, she raged openly, never hesitating to bloody her own dagger. Bored, she picked fights with noble ladies; restless, she drew men behind silken curtains.

She did nothing, yet never rested—no time for thoughts of "death," let alone "future." "If not in life, when else should one seek joy?" she answered [s1.name]’s question, and [s1.name] left her side in silence. At many crossroads of fate, the Mirror saw Nayla’s life—wild and wanton, but cut short. In those wide, bright eyes lingered shock, defiance—[s1.name] wondered—had there been any regret?

Conditions:

Result:

When [s1.name] posed the question, Jalila dusted off her hookah and took a slow, sweet drag before answering.

"You know my old trade." She believed [s1.name] was a friend from her past. "My clients and I would agree on a safe word—one that, when spoken, would make it all stop. The lashing, the shame, the pain... replaced with caresses, kisses. I was popular at the House of Delights. Some of my patrons were so exalted, you wouldn’t believe. But one stayed with me... a merchant, generous until he went bankrupt and drowned himself."

"You see, the world never stops tormenting people. And death—that’s the only safe word." Her lips curled into a hoarse laugh, though her gaze drifted to the window. "Between you and me, knowing everyone dies someday... it makes living easier."

Conditions:

Result:

It was a casual, private conversation, before you returned home.

"I recall you were the first to visit [player.name] after he was dragged into this game," [s1.name] remarked.

"Aye. Back then, I saw it myself—the servants dismissed, the grand manor left with only him and his wife." Faraj checked the banquet list as he spoke. "I understood why they fled. No one wants to stake their life on a hand gripping a blade. But I wasn’t afraid. Death isn’t the worst of it. The worst is a man who doesn’t know what he’s doing, or a heart so easily swayed."

The Mirror watched him. It reflected his sacrifices, his betrayals, but also his hopes and his loyalty—to you, and to himself. The Mirror saw a man who, from the very beginning, weighed life and death without hesitation. He came beneath your roof, waiting, hoping to be chosen—a thousand times, ten thousand times, always the same.

Conditions:

Result:

[s1.name] found the unremarkable slave through the water basin. The man dipped his chisel in water, then honed it patiently on the whetstone until dusk draped over him like a shroud of violet. Aziz carved silently into a white stone, and with each clinking strike, [s1.name] watched as blurred features emerged—faces long gone from life, faded from memory... Through those wordless eyes, [s1.name] saw a stone tumbling down a mountain peak. Would the stone wish to climb back? Would it miss the view from above? Would it endure the water’s bite, the wind’s abrasion? It gave no answer. It simply stood, unmoving, as if this were part of its being—a link in the chain of fate.

The Mirror looked no further.

Conditions:

Result:

Extra

Power of the Weak
That night, you dreamed a strange dream.

You and many copies of you swam through the sea alongside countless versions of yourself—a school of tiny fish, each insignificant, yet together, vast.

A great golden shark surged after you, jaws gaping to swallow you whole. But in an instant, you shifted, reformed, became a towering black figure wielding a trident, dwarfing the shark. Every fish among you diminished itself, surrendered its self, pledged to the whole.

The shark fled. You all survived.

You woke with a start, pressing a hand to your chest as if to steady a racing heart, only to catch your dim reflection in the mirror smiling back at you. As if it, too, had become one of you.

Result:

Action: