「TEMPLE」
Inside the silent altar room, Archbishop Tolentino stood before the darkened Holy Grail, its usual luminescence absent, leaving only cold, polished stone.
"Your Holiness, are you truly placing your faith in the word of those adventurers?" an older priest, Dane, inquired, his voice hushed in the sacred space.
"They did not seem to be lying," Tolentino replied, his eyes never leaving the inert artifact. "And even if they are, we lose nothing but a few hours. Noon is our deadline. Then we contact Headquarters."
"Understood, Your Holiness." Priest Dane bowed his head slightly. "But what in the name of the Holy Trinity is happening? For the Grail's light to fail… it is like severing our connection to the heavenly voices themselves."
"Priest Dane," Tolentino began, his tone contemplative, "have you ever heard the myth that circulates among the younger clergy returning from missionary service in Elora? The tale of the 'Great Wave'?"
"That… that fringe story? The one with no theological grounding? It is considered borderline blasphemous, Your Holiness."
"Indeed, it is," Tolentino conceded. "But is one of its central portents not the total disappearance of natural mana?"
Priest Dane's expression grew troubled. "Yes… that is among the events described in the apocryphal text."
"If innate mana is the life force of our bodies, then natural mana is the life force of the world itself. Elora, whose elementalists commune with spirits; Vester, whose warriors are born with Sword Aura; our own Holy Kingdom, blessed with pure divine power; and Einston, the most potent of all, the Magic Kingdom… What becomes of us if the force that amplifies and sustains our gifts vanishes? Natural mana fuels half the enchanted tools upon which every kingdom relies. The consequences would be catastrophic."
"There is only one place where such lifelessness exists," Tolentino continued, his voice dropping. "The Charnel Lands. The cursed scar at the heart of the four kingdoms."
"You worry too much, Your Holiness," Priest Dane said, shrugging off a sudden chill. "If a calamity of that scale were approaching, the Holy Trinity would surely send a prophecy."
"It has been fifty years since the last true prophecy was received," Tolentino murmured. "The one granted to our Pope the moment he ascended the holy seat."
"We were not even born then, Your Holiness."
"My point is this: that prophecy remains our greatest mystery." Tolentino turned, his eyes distant as he recited the engraved words from memory:
"I, who walk between the folds of never-was and ever-shall-be, seek the soul that is and is not.
In the cycle of one decade and eight springs, the reflection shall fade.
The rightful owner stirs from slumber, and turns their gaze toward home.
Thus, when the silver thread is cut, all blessings lost must return to the throne from which they fell."
He let the cryptic verse hang in the air. "It is so enigmatic His Holiness ordered it carved into the Standing Stones outside the Grand Temple, a puzzle for the ages."
"Do you believe… it speaks of something catastrophic?" Priest Dane asked, now unsettled.
"Blessing Prosperity, the Benedictio of Einston, has returned. The Holy Kingdom's Saintess, Lumina, was born this very year—a vessel of the purest divine power seen in centuries. These are not mere coincidences. They are blessings, returning after being lost for ages."
"Y-your Holiness… you are thinking too far ahead," Priest Dane stammered, attempting to laugh it off, but the sound died in the solemn air.
The great clock within the altar chamber began to chime. 11:45 AM.
Then, as if answering the call of the hour, a faint, silvery spark ignited deep within the heart of the Holy Grail. It grew, slowly at first, then with gathering speed, drawing the ambient energy of the world back into itself until the artifact blazed once more with its familiar, soothing, divine light.
"Oh…! T-the light! The light has returned, Your Holiness!" Priest Dane exclaimed, a smile of profound relief breaking across his face.
Tolentino stood in awe, a wave of relief so powerful it nearly buckled his knees. He clasped his hands, fingers tightening around his silver pendant, and bowed his head.
"Oh Eldrin, God of Life and Prosperity… Escar, God of War and Resolve… Edith, Goddess of Death and Cycles… Holy Trinity E, we thank Thee for restoring Thy presence to us. May Thy light guide us from shadow, and Thy will be the compass for our souls."
He reached out and clasped Priest Dane's shoulder, his own face alight with gratitude and a dawning realization. "Come. Let us await them outside. This… this is their doing. I am certain of it."
With a new energy, he turned and strode gracefully from the altar, his robes sweeping behind him, the restored light of the Grail casting long, hopeful shadows in his wake.
The temple's earlier dread and anxiety had vanished, replaced by a palpable, relieved calm. Priests and priestesses moved through the halls and courtyards with eased hearts, resuming their daily tasks.
For over twenty minutes, Archbishop Tolentino had stood at the temple's grand entrance, his gaze fixed on the open gates, waiting.
"Must you truly wait out here, Your Holiness?" Priest Dane asked, joining him on the steps.
"I must. Who knows what trials they have faced. And I remain concerned for Kalia and Felon," Tolentino replied, his voice steady but his eyes searching the distant tree line.
Priest Dane sighed softly and took up a post beside him, sharing the vigil.
A few more minutes passed in quiet anticipation. Then, the distinct sound of hoofbeats—steady and approaching—echoed from the forest road.
"They are here," Tolentino said, a note of profound relief coloring his words.
Five horses emerged from the gloom of the trees. G6 led, guiding her mount with a tired precision onto the open grass field before the gates. Her two cloaked companions followed, with the young priests Kalia and Felon bringing up the rear, looking weary but unharmed.
Archbishop Tolentino descended the steps, Priest Dane at his side, to meet them.
They dismounted. The two young priests greeted their seniors with exhausted but genuine smiles.
"Your Holiness! Senior Dane!" Kalia called, her voice bright with relief.
G6, Edmund, and Zen lowered their hoods, revealing faces marked by the ordeal. Dust, sweat, and subtle signs of strain were evident. Even behind her dark shades, G6's pallor was noticeable, her usual rose-gold vibrancy muted, her lips set in a thin, bloodless line.
"We are deeply grateful you have all returned safely," Tolentino said, his hands clasped. "The Holy Grail's light has been restored."
"Hello, adventurers. I am Senior Priest Dane. Thank you for what you have done," he added, offering a respectful bow.
"Keep your word, Archbishop," G6 stated flatly, her energy clearly spent. "We're done here." She turned to remount.
"Please," Tolentino interjected, stepping forward. "Take shelter here for the day. You may have been healed by Kalia and Felon, but their prowess is still that of novices. True restorative rites, proper food, and rest—allow us to provide this, at least. It is the smallest thanks we can offer."
His offer was genuine, born of gratitude and a cleric's duty. It was also a chance to observe, to understand the enigmatic trio who had quelled a crisis he dared not yet fully report.
'I think we should stop here, Reise. You have not yet recovered your strength.' Daunt's voice whispered from her tattoo.
She glanced at Edmund and Zen, who showed no outward agreement or disagreement—their loyalty placing the decision solely with her—but the bone-deep exhaustion was plain in the set of their shoulders and the shadows under their eyes.
"Tsk. Bothersome," she murmured under her breath. Then, to Tolentino, she said flatly, "If we are not imposing, we will accept your offer."
Her two men looked at her with fresh surprise; they had not expected her to willingly associate with the temple, even temporarily.
Tolentino's smile was warm with relief. Kalia and Felon's faces brightened visibly. "You are not imposing in the slightest. Please, follow me. Priest Dane, would you see to it the stableman tends to our guests' horses?"
Priest Dane bowed and hurried off.
Tolentino gestured for them to follow. The three exchanged a final, silent look before falling into step behind the Archbishop, moving deeper into the temple's hushed, incense-scented halls. Passing priests and priestesses glanced their way with a mixture of curiosity and subdued concern.
They turned down a corridor lined with elegant tapestries. "This is our guest hall, where we typically host visiting nobility," Tolentino explained.
"Then why put us here? Just house us where the servants stay," G6 said, her voice edged with suspicion.
Tolentino paused, his expression softening. "There is no need for pretense between us, Lady G6."
As if a tripwire had been snapped, G6's sword was instantly in her hand, its tip hovering a hair's breadth from Tolentino's throat. In the same heartbeat, Edmund and Zen had their hands on their hilts, poised to draw.
"Did you lure us here?" G6's voice was a low, dangerous rasp. "What are you plotting?"
Kalia and Felon froze, torn between the people who had fought beside them and the holy man they served.
Tolentino did not flinch. He slowly raised his hands, palms open in a gesture of pure non-aggression. "Please, be at ease. I bear no ill intent. I merely observed that your companion's sage hair is clearly the work of a color-changing artifact—I can sense its magic in his earring. And you… your hair color is neither artifice nor alchemy. It is natural."
"Your point?"
"My point is," Tolentino said gently, his eyes steady on hers despite the blade at his neck, "rose-gold hair. Is that not the trademark of the Worthon's Duchess maiden family line?"
The temperature in the hall seemed to drop. G6's expression turned glacial, the pressure of her sword-point unwavering. "I am an Archbishop who has been stationed here for two years, Lady G6. It is part of my duty to be aware of the kingdom's sovereigns and its Great Pillars. But I swear upon the Holy Trinity E… I mean you no harm."
I sense no hostility. Pupils steady. Heartbeat, calm. No tremors.
G6 raised her free hand slightly, a subtle signal to the two men behind her: stand down.
She lowered her sword. In unison, Edmund and Zen relaxed their stances, though their watchfulness remained.
"I'll buy it," G6 said, her voice still cool. "For now."
The young priests let out audible sighs of relief. Tolentino offered a small, reassuring smile. "Shall we continue?"
G6 gave a curt nod, and they proceeded down the hall.
They stopped before a section with three adjoining guest rooms. "Please, take this time to refresh yourselves. We will prepare a meal," Tolentino offered.
"Hey." G6 stopped, turning her head toward him. "I'll talk to you later. You keep your mouth shut until then." She deliberately bumped her shoulder against his as she passed, a clear assertion of dominance, and paused at the door of the room she chose. Her gaze shifted to Kalia and Felon. "And you two. Keep your traps shut."
They nodded vigorously, understanding the unspoken threat. Daunt had been explicit: his existence was not to be mentioned, on pain of invoking divine retribution.
Edmund and Zen gave the priests one last, measured look—a silent warning of their own—before entering their respective rooms and closing the doors.
Once they were alone in the corridor, Tolentino let out a long, weary sigh. "She is… feisty, isn't she?" he murmured, a trace of a genuine smile touching his lips.
"Your Holiness," Felon ventured, "may we clean up first before giving our full report?"
Tolentino turned to them, his expression turning more serious. "Yes, clean up. But you will give your report during lunch, with the adventurers present. That way, they cannot suspect we are plotting behind their backs. Especially their… captain."
「INSIDE THEIR ROOMS—FIRST, EDMUND & ZEN」
"What are you doing here in my room, Zero?" Edmund asked, his tone more weary than impolite.
Zen simply walked to the chair by the small desk, took off his cloak, tossed it over the back, and sat down heavily.
"That Archbishop," Zen began, his voice low. "You think the Captain will just let that slide?"
Edmund also removed his cloak and sat on the edge of the bed, letting out a quiet sigh. "What are you implying?"
"He clearly suspects we're nobility, maybe even which families we hail from, but he doesn't seem to know our exact standing. I'm just saying… she won't kill him, right?" Zen's gaze shifted to Edmund, seeking reassurance.
"We all know the Holy Kingdom scrupulously avoids political entanglements. And the Captain despises political drama. I'm fairly certain she'll think of another solution before resorting to… that," Edmund reasoned.
Zen remained silent for a moment, his eyes drifting to the window and the peaceful temple grounds beyond. "We'll find out soon enough," he murmured, then closed his eyes. I'm pretty sure the Captain already left a significant mess back at the palace. It's already political. We're just wading deeper into it.
✎﹏﹏﹏﹏
「G6'S ROOM」
"I am still in body pain," she muttered, not bothering to clean herself or remove her green-blood-smeared cloak. She just lay face-up on the bed, one arm thrown over her eyes.
Then, a faint blue light emanated from her tattoo, coalescing into Daunt's form at the foot of the bed.
"Let's talk, Reise," Daunt said, his voice lower and more serious than usual.
"What?" G6 answered, not moving.
"What you did back there. It was foolish." Daunt settled on the floor beside her, his large frame a comforting, familiar presence.
"What is?"
"Don't play coy. You burned through your core's reserves. I didn't teach you that technique so you could use it on a whim." Daunt's tone was a low growl of reprimand. "Total Resonance is meant as a last resort. What you faced back in that dead zone was a newly-evolved predator, not a seasoned demon lord. Less than half of your normal output would have sufficed."
G6 finally removed her shades and sat up. "It was a new type?"
"It had only just evolved, not long enough to master its new capabilities," Daunt said, narrowing his eyes. "Do not change the subject. Total Resonance is a final measure."
"It was a final measure. That thing broke free from my Aura of Finality."
"Because you were already depleted and fighting in a dead zone! If you keep demonstrating such recklessness, those two will follow your example. They're already picking up your bad habits."
"I guess I'm a good leader, then, if I can influence them," G6 retorted flatly.
Daunt studied her grey eyes. The damage from overexertion had healed, but they were still bloodshot and shadowed with deep fatigue. "Ha… You pushed to finish it because you were eager to test your theory, weren't you? You truly have no regard for your own well-being."
"Why do you keep nagging? Is this what other children feel when their mother won't stop? It's fucking annoying." She got up, threw her soiled cloak onto the floor, and stalked into the attached bathroom.
"Tsk. She really is a headache," Daunt grumbled. He picked up the discarded cloak gently with his teeth and laid it over a chair.
In the bathroom, G6 turned the faucet and let cold water run into the sink. She slowly washed her hands, then her face, the grime and residual tension dissolving under the stream.
She removed the quicksilver artifact, and her adventurer's gear vanished, replaced by her simple black training clothes. Leaning against the sink, she stared at her reflection in the small, circular wall mirror.
"What should I do with that Archbishop?" she murmured to the tired face looking back.
She tapped a restless finger against the porcelain. "Ha… Killing people is easier than figuring out how to keep them alive." She let her head fall back, eyes closing against the ceiling. Pathetic.
「TEMPLE'S PRIVATE DINING ROOM」
The room was elegant but austere. Simple, hearty food was laid out—a far cry from palace fare, but wholesome and nourishing. Tolentino, Dane, Kalia, and Felon were already seated, the air thick with unasked questions.
The door opened, revealing the three stern-faced adventurers. G6, Edmund, and Zen entered. Their earlier ragged attire was now clean, thanks to the subtle magic of their quicksilver rings, but the exhaustion remained—a sharp, watchful fatigue etched into their postures. They took their seats but did not touch the food.
Tolentino and the others seemed to grow still under the heavy, silent aura G6 carried into the room with her. Her cloak was gone, but her stylish hat and tinted glasses remained, casting her expression in unreadable shadow.
"Ahem." Tolentino began, clearing his throat gently. "Now that we are all here, why don't we begin?"
"Yes, Your Holiness," Dane said, and the temple attendees began to eat—all except the three adventurers.
"Is the food not to your liking?" Tolentino asked, his voice carefully neutral.
G6 simply crossed her arms and turned her head toward him, the motion slow and deliberate, as if she were still weighing what to do with him.
"Why don't we just get to business? I'm afraid I'll get indigestion from this boring facade," G6 said, her tone flat.
Her words made Kalia and Felon exchange nervous glances, as if expecting G6 to draw her sword across the Archbishop's throat at any moment.
Tolentino gently set down his utensils and met G6's obscured gaze. "Very well. Then I would like to hear the report from Priest Felon and Priestess Kalia."
"An open report. Clever," G6 commented, a faint, cold smirk touching her lips.
The two young priests then took turns recounting everything.
They described the specific, deeply entrenched territory of the Venomous Spiders, how the creatures moved and attacked in coordinated groups. They explained how the party had split, the terrifying efficiency with which the trio dispatched wave after wave. They spoke of the horror of the nest—the eggs, the newborns—all eradicated with chilling ease.
Finally, their voices hushed, they described the death of the twenty-foot Queen, and how with her fall, the rest of the spiders seemed to perish as well, as if their lives were inextricably tied to hers. They told of the cave-like dungeon crumbling once the Queen was slain, and of the single black parchment they had glimpsed within, covered in what could only be a demonic script.
"A demonic script? A twenty-foot Queen? But… Queens are typically only twelve to thirteen feet at most," Dane said, his voice thick with disbelief.
"What did you do with the remains?" Tolentino asked the young priests, though the question was clearly directed at the trio.
"We burned it," Edmund answered crisply. "And, as a result, there may be a specific area of your forest that is now… somewhat bald."
"You burned the forest? How could you possibly—? Unless you're… you're not Royal no—" Dane cut himself off, eyes widening slightly.
"Do we look like we came from a pampered standing?" G6 interjected, her voice a dry, sharp blade.
"Anyway," she continued, turning her full attention back to Tolentino, a slow, unnerving smile playing on her lips. "I was told that if you swear upon the name of the Holy Trinity E with a blood pact, you will die if you break the vow."
"What are you—?" Dane began, his face flushing.
Tolentino raised a calm hand, silencing him without a word. His gaze remained locked on G6. "You wish for me to swear such an oath? Is this about the demonic script and the 'dead zone'?"
"Was I?" G6 tilted her head. "I'll be doing the same. Afraid?"
"No. It is fair. I wish to understand something, and I know that you revealing it will affect your true standing. A vow is a fair trade."
"Of course it is. If you can't trust each other, isn't it better to stake your life on it?" G6's tone was light, almost conversational, but the mockery in it was as sharp as glass.
Tolentino could feel the weight of her stare behind those shaded lenses. I knew it the moment I saw you in the courtyard… You are dangerous.
"It is indeed. Shall we eat first before we continue?" Tolentino suggested, gesturing to the untouched plates before them.
As if a silent command had been given, the moment G6 picked up her fork and steak knife, Edmund and Zen followed suit beside her.
Dane watched, deeply reluctant and troubled by his Archbishop's compliance. They couldn't see her eyes, but they all felt it—among the three, she was the alpha predator. And among the four of them, the Archbishop was the chosen prey, with the rest of them serving as little more than potential dessert.
–TO BE CONTINUED...–