Kaisarius and his company went to negotiate with the Head Priest once again. It had been a week, and the man still kept avoiding giving a direct answer. Amon had a hunch, just a gut feeling, maybe thanks to his finely tuned instincts or sheer paranoia but he was almost certain the priest wouldn't hand over the runestone. That soft-voiced femboy was stalling. He was buying time. There was no way he'd just hand it over.
So Amon did what he did best... Hehehe.
"Oh, my lady dearest! We meet again, what a coincidence."
The Priest of Passion blinked in surprise, a little confused by the sudden interruption of her prayer in garden. Apparently, priests and priestesses of the Sun God didn't need an altar to pray. As long as their heart longed for their god's mercy, or whatever it was, they could worship anywhere they liked.
Amon had been studying the temple this whole time. By now, he'd learned a lot: guard shifts, prayer schedules, the weekly sacrifices, even that on Mondays the faithful confessed their sins... not that the Sun God cared much about that, most likely.
The priestess's soft, scarlet lips curled into a warm smile. She was radiant and stunning, really. If it wasn't for Amon's ironclad commitment to his wife... or the very real terror of what might happen behind the doors of the Room of Passion... well, things might've gone differently. Ahem, moving on.
The priestess nodded politely and spoke, her voice lively and melodic.
"Indeed, good sir. You must be one of the new believers, correct? My apologies, there have been so many lately, I can't remember everyone's face."
That was another advantage Amon had discovered: because of his unassuming appearance and forgettable demeanor, people rarely paid attention to him. Even during their meeting with the Head Priest, he'd lingered in the background: silent, unremarkable and practically invisible. He'd also made sure his companions didn't approach or speak to him while they were at the temple, gradually building up a separate reputation as just another quiet, devout newcomer.
"Y-yes... excuse me," he said softly. "I didn't mean to interrupt your prayer, but… I've been curious about something. W-why has our forgiving and loving god... forsaken the kingdom of Astarax?"
The priestess sighed, caught off guard by the boy's wide, innocent eyes. He shifted awkwardly, avoiding her gaze because of anxiety, maybe even a little afraid he'd asked the wrong thing. But his curiosity seemed genuine.
She assumed the question came from naivety. And why wouldn't it? Dozens of refugees passed through these halls each month, lost and desperate for answers. His kind were not rare.
What she didn't see, what she didn't even think to look for, was the glint in Amon's eyes, hidden beneath the surface.
He didn't give a damn about faith. He was here for... Errors.
"What is faith, young man?"
Amon blinked, caught off guard by the question. But then, slowly, a warm smile spread across his face, sincere on the surface, with a faint glint of fervor just behind it.
"It's that we don't need proof of our Lord's existence," he said, voice soft but sure, "even when He creates miracles after miracles. Faith is believing in something greater than ourselves. A higher power that guides us, loves us, and cares for us. Believing in the omnipotence of our Lord, who created us and still watches over us."
As he spoke, he subtly weaved in references to the Sun God's domains: light, clarity, purity, and creation. Lacing his words with the kind of reverence that would feel familiar, even comforting, to a true believer.
The priestess raised an eyebrow, a satisfied smile forming as she studied him.
"Correct. That's really… impressive. Not many people appreciate or understand the love of our Lord so deeply."
Amon smiled, feigning embarrassment, his gaze briefly dropping as he coughed lightly into his fist.
Duh, he thought with a flicker of amusement. You've never seen the 21st century, auntie. Dudes will make people believe in all kinds of bullshit with sweet, philosophical words.
The priestess found speaking with Amon to be... delightful. The young man's questions brimmed with curiosity about the Sun God's power, His miracles, His blessings. Unlike others who feared the God's wrath and scorching judgment, Amon praised His overwhelming strength, proudly calling himself a follower of the goat... She didn't knew what that exactly meant but seeing his enthusiasm, it most likely wasn't anything bad.
For a moment, it was peaceful. Serene, even.
But then, the tranquility shattered.
Shouting erupted from outside the temple walls. Harsh, angry voices carried through the halls like a sudden gust of smoke in a sacred chamber. The priestess's smile faded. She turned toward the temple gates just as a group of ragged refugees stormed in.
They looked half-starved, clothes torn and skin pale. Their eyes burned with something far darker than desperation... betrayal.
"You lied to us!?" one of them shouted.
"Where's the food!?"
"You promised to heal us! Liars!"
Amon stepped back instinctively, watching the scene unfold. The priestess stood still, her calm face now clouded with concern. The shouting grew louder. Dozens were pouring in, barefoot and furious, their hands clenched, their voices breaking through the sanctuary's stillness like thunder.
More and more people began to swarm the temple grounds, their faces gaunt and desperate. They clutched crude weapons: sticks, rusted knives, broken tools. Anything they could grab, really. It was clear they had reached their limit. Hunger and betrayal had left them with nothing but rage.
The priestess's expression softened with sorrow. She understood their pain too well. It only took one angry voice to ignite a hundred others. One spark, and this place of worship would turn into a riot.
"Young man, you should leave this place," she said gently, eyes still on the crowd. "The guards will arrive soon. It's too dangerous for someone as... delicate as you to stay here."
Without waiting for his response, she turned and rushed into the chaos, calling out to the refugees with outstretched arms, trying to calm the storm before it broke.
Amon gave a pleasant nod, his expression mild and unbothered. He turned and walked away with calm, measured steps.
From the temple's inner sanctum, guards rushed out in a hurry, their shouts echoing across the sacred grounds as they tried to restore peace and push back the tide of furious refugees.
As nearly all of them poured out, Amon slipped inside unnoticed, the chaos outside providing the perfect cover for what he intended to do.
He moved fast, heart thudding in his chest like a war drum. If I get caught... there's no trial. No excuses. Just a swift execution. Shit! Don't think about it! Think about butterflies or something else!
He ducked past the entrance, weaving between tall columns and carefully sidestepping priests and wandering believers. Every footfall was measured amd every breath, silent.
But just as he rounded a corner, he heard the clatter of armored boots. The guards were returning from the inner temple. His pulse spiked.
With no other choice, Amon slipped into the prayer hall, ducking behind the grand statue of the Sun God that towered at the center like a radiant sentinel. His back pressed against the cold marble and barely breathing, he waited for opportunity.
The remaining believers began murmuring among themselves, distracted by the noise outside. One by one, they drifted toward the entrance, curiosity dragging them away.
Amon smiled and climbed the base of the statue quickly and silently, each motion precise and excited.
Sorry, Lord of Light, he thought with his mouth curling up. But your temple guards suck. Eh, Altaïr would be proud.
He'd discovered not long ago that his attribute, [Marauder], granted him enhanced physical strength and an almost inhuman level of agility. Welcomed surprise, really.
Balancing atop the open palm of the Sun God's statue, he untied the coiled rope from his waist. With a swift motion, he tossed it upward, the end wrapping cleanly around the base of a towering column.
Amon gritted his teeth and leapt.
He swung in a wide arc, the rope taut in his grip as his boots struck the marble column with a dull thud. He used the momentum to run vertically, ascending step by step as the rope pulled tighter behind him, muscles straining, heart pounding.
Up, higher, faster until he was near the top.
Then came the leap.
He sprang from the column, hurling himself through the air. The ground far below beckoned with deadly silence. For a moment, instinct screamed at him to close his eyes, to surrender to the fear that still haunted him from the waterfall incident... the cold rush of falling.
He forced his eyes open, wind howling past his ears as he twisted mid-air. Shit, shit, shit!
But he managed.
Fingers gripped marble as his body slammed against the outer statue that clung to the temple's side like a silent sentinel. Gasping softly, Amon steadied his breath, pressing his back against the cold stone.
It was impossible to enter the inner part of the temple through normal means. He had been racking his brain for a week, trying to find a way in. The only method was through essence. He had observed the how priests would place their palms against the carved sun emblem and infuse it with soul essence. It was as if the gate had memorized their essence signatures and allowed them entry.
Now, crouched atop the curved outer wall, he found himself looking down into a wide courtyard bathed in gentle light.
Well... Im cooked.
Guards... Dozens of them. Patrolling in twos, in fours. Some standing watch like unmoving statues. Others walking with eyes sharp and weapons ready. Their armor gleamed like polished bronze, and their movements were methodical and trained. This wasn't the lazy temple guard he'd hoped for.
Think, think... You did all kinds of stupid shit back in school and still escaped safely. Didn't you burn the chemistry room and blame your classmate? Didn't you write exam answers on the window where they could only be seen by squinting? Didn't you plant weed in the school's garden, hiding it among the flowers?
What can I do...
Stress and anxiety are good. I always pull off cool shit when I'm scared shitless...
Wait a second...
A slow grin crept onto his lips as he turned his gaze away from the temple's inner grounds...
Well, This will be disgusting...