Infinite Returns : The More I Give, The Stronger I Become-Chapter 60: Update

Chapter 60: Update

Three months later—

In a crowded inn nestled near the border of the human domain, a cloaked woman sat alone at a table in the corner. Her aura suppressed, her face hidden beneath a shadowed hood.

It was Esmeray.

The inn was alive with noise—laughter, music, clinking mugs, and crude jokes. Beings from all races mingled freely here, letting their guards down in this crossroads city. Beyond this place lay the human kingdoms—The Human domain.

Esmeray had journeyed here from the heart of the demon domain, on foot. It had been grueling—but worth it.

On the way, she had encountered many beasts, some of which she hadn’t seen even in her previous life—before her transformation into a succubus by Ethan. All of them fell before her, their corpses now part of her growing undead army.

Yet only a few stood out.

And only one could speak.

Our dear Dracula.

"Master... why are we here? We’re so close to human territory. Isn’t this a waste of time?"

Esmeray sighed.

"Dracula, for an ancient vampire, you’re remarkably impatient. Think—before charging into unknown territory, shouldn’t we gather intel?"

"And what better place than a drunken inn, where beings from every corner of the world spill their secrets between drinks?"

The vampire fell silent. He hadn’t considered that. He was simply worried—

"I just thought you’d be... restless. You’ve heard nothing from the Grandmaster in three months."

"You said he was a magnet for chaos, yet there’s been no trace. Isn’t that odd?"

Esmeray nodded.

"Very odd. Knowing him, he’s probably out there gifting divine weapons to beggars and raising powerful beings in back alleys just for entertainment."

She chuckled softly.

Ethan Yagami. That man was chaos incarnate.

Even gods hoarded power—yet he gave freely.

"Grandmaster seems... wealthy?" Dracula asked.

"You’ve no idea."

She smirked and turned her attention back to the room.

It had been months since she heard any news. With only the dead as company, this tavern was her first connection to the living world.

She listened.

"Darky, you dumb bastard! Why’d you cheat on your wife?! Who’s gonna want your crusty ass now?"

A human slapped his friend across the face.

"I’m not ugly, you are!" Darky shouted back.

SLAP.

"Say that again?!"

Then came the scramble—curses, slurs, chasing around the inn.

Esmeray’s lips twitched. She nearly laughed. Nearly.

She forced her attention away, resuming her silent listening.

Nearby, a lion beastman teased his crow beastman friend:

"Ravin, I heard you got rejected again."

"Shut up, Ramjan."

Naturally, Ramjan didn’t shut up.

Esmeray rolled her eyes and tuned out again.

Until—she heard it.

"I heard Castria and Balor are about to go to war."

Her ears sharpened.

Two gruff men sat hunched over drinks.

"Yeah, apparently someone tried kidnapped the Sword King’s daughter. Can you believe it?"

"Insane. The man can kill you from a million miles away with a sword just by thinking about it and you dare to touch his daughter? Mad."

"But Castria too is in trouble. He got the whole territory around him pissed. They refuse to allow any faith except that weird new one—what was it again?"

"The Giver’s Faith."

"Right. Who the hell is that?"

The conversation went on. They delved into the rising tension between Castria and Balor. Religious upheaval. Strategic blunders.

Esmeray’s eyes narrowed.

The Church of the Giver.

’What does this remind me of, Ethan?’

She stood.

If Castria was tied to Ethan—in any way—then that was her next destination. She can either find him there or have his whereabouts.

And as fate would have it, Castria was the closest major kingdom to her current location.

How convenient.

Coincidence?

Definitely.

...

Elsewhere...

In the heart of a peaceful village, Anita stood tall on a wooden platform. Her wings hidden, her golden eyes kind.

Villagers—hundreds of them—stood below, gazing up at her with devotion.

Three months had passed.

Three months during which Anita had changed everything.

She hadn’t declared herself an angel at first. She hadn’t spoken of gods or divinity.

No—she acted.

She healed the sick.

Taught them how to farm.

Blessed their soil.

Enriched their minds with books.

She gave, without asking anything in return.

And now, they worshipped her as an angel—not because she demanded it, but because she earned it.

She took a deep breath.

"People of this village. The past three months have been a joy for me. Watching you grow, watching your lives improve—it has brought me peace."

"But... it is time for me to leave."

The crowd erupted.

"No!"

"Please don’t go!"

"You’re our light! Our savior!"

They have become truly dependent on her now. They can’t no longer fathom a life without her.

Anita remained calm, but inside, she smiled.

’Exactly as planned.’

An elder woman stepped forward. The village chief.

She raised her hand, and silence fell.

"O Angel... have we offended you? Why must you leave us?" freēwēbηovel.c૦m

Anita looked troubled. She clasped her hands in a prayerful gesture.

"No. You have done nothing wrong. But I am not simply a healer—I am an angel, sent by my god to spread His name."

"I came here by accident... but when I saw your suffering, I could not ignore it."

"Still... I must continue my mission. And I cannot fulfill it here—your hearts already belong to another."

She spoke, of course, of the village’s worship of Soleil, the god of the rising sun.

She had bided her time. Waited until their faith was strong—in her, not in their god.

The chief’s voice trembled.

"Then... tell us. Who is your god?"

Anita’s voice became reverent.

"He is the Forgotten One. The Absolute. The God who deserves remembrance."

Gasps spread across the crowd.

"But I do not wish to shake your faith. That is why I must leave."

She turned to go.

But then—the chief knelt.

Followed by every man, woman, and child.

Hundreds on their knees.

"We will worship your god."

"He saved us—through you."

"So Please... stay."

They couldn’t afford to let her go. So they submitted.

And at that moment, a sound only Anita could hear echoed in her mind.

{You are doing something devious... but interesting.}

{You have received a Title: The Propagander of Faith.}

She smiled.

’Wait for me, mister... Anita’s preparing a gift worthy of a god.’

—End of Chapter 60—