There were multiple things to unpack from all he had just received from the Voice of God.
The source of the Marks of Sin, the power used by the Crusaders of the Church, is probably one of those damned monsters with power far greater than anything he could comprehend.
"In a way, such a thing is a twisted form of power that equally grants its user gifts and curses. A double-edged sword." He muttered.
His eye narrowed as he thought to Phil.
Compared to the other guards, Phil had possessed near superhuman strength. He had once uprooted an entire tree with his bare hands.
Of course, the cost of such strength, was his gradual mutation. It had not been a secret in the town that one of Phil's arms was a grotesque appendage eerily resembling that of some twisted aberration.
"Then... What about this so-called Mark of Divinity?"
{Heretic, you cannot acquire any more information today}.
Dust frowned,
"Come on. How selfish can you be?"
Silence.
He was not humoured with a response.
Dust clicked his tongue and plopped right onto the... void?
Although there was no ground, so long as he 'envisioned' himself doing it, he realized he could accompany quite a lot of things in this subconscious space of his.
'How interesting.'
Still, now was not the time to play around.
"The only way I can get the answers I need, is by killing the required number of foul things and absorbing their Marks of Sin."
He furrowed his brows as he tried envisioning a counter of the Marks in his possession.
Sure enough, a plethora of golden burning runes appeared in his line of view;
***
Marks of Sin: (0/1000).
***
Dust folded his arms,
"Although the Black Mites are relatively weak individually, they are classified at a rather high grade on the disaster scale when they swarm. Which is not very frequent... I probably won't see anything as weak as that in the wilderness."
That meant gathering these Marks of Sin was not going to be easy whatsoever.
The one thing that had stuck with him the most, was;
"A Mark is a pathway, and a Sin is an aspect. There are multiple different pathways and aspects. That means we humans had just barely scratched the surface."
It was both intriguing and terrifying at the same time.
'I on the other hand...'
He froze.
'If my Mark did not come from Ashkarod, like those the Church doles out to its Crusaders, does that mean it comes from the Divine itself?'
That certainly could be the case.
After all, unlike the Marks of Cain, Iron and the likes, the Mark of Divinity sounded very much like it was directly related to the Divine.
'Then it certainly must be unique.'
Dust huffed and lay his head on the ground.
He gazed into the emptiness.
For some reason, he felt oddly at peace.
His life, up until now, had been rather bleak.
Despite having recently lost everything, he couldn't help but feel like he had gained a bit as well.
He clenched his fists.
'A new beginning.'
Although the Voice of God had said a lot of strange things, he didn't really care for now.
'Who cares about being a witness? The world burning to ashes seems like a very far into the future occurrence. I'll be long dead before that even happens.'
He sighed and shook his head.
Indeed, all he could do was live in the down, curses and destiny be damned.
And the first thing he would do, was get some damned sleep.
***
His eyes snapped open.
Dawn light filtered through the cracked windows of the priest's chambers, painting the room in muted greys and yellows. The comfortable mattress beneath him felt strange after so many years of sleeping on rough bedding.
He yawned then sat up.
He sat still for a few moments before attempting to 'envision' the runes into existence.
Almost immediately, the glowing symbols began floating in his vision, as clear as if they were etched into the air itself.
***
{The Divine's Status:
Name: Dust
True Name: Heretic
Mark Rank: F
Mark(s): Mark of Divinity (locked)
Relics: Rippling Blade
Skills: Heretic Eye
Description: Town Guard
Sins: Heretic, Witness
***
"Still there," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
By his will, the symbols faded back into the aether.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, testing his body.
He felt thoroughly refreshed and invigorated.
For some reason, everything felt... different.
He felt stronger. Better coordinated too. Even his movements seemed more fluid than before.
The Rippling Blade lay on the floor where he had dropped it the night before. Dust picked it up carefully.
He drew the blade from its scabbard.
***
{Rippling Blade}: A blade forged from pure silver and a blessing that ensures its edge never dulls.
Enchantments: Blessing of Sharpness.
***
The steel gleamed with an inner light, and along its edge, tiny runes flickered in and out of existence. It was beautiful in a way that his father's sword had never been. This was a weapon made for a specific purpose.
For killing foul things.
'So this is a Relic...'
He remembered the Voice of God's words. Relics were items made or forged using Divine sorcery. It was very obvious the blade was special.
'But what was it doing in the priest's room?'
Thinking about it for a while, Dust could only think of one thing,
'Perhaps he meant to offer it to Phil as a gift of some sorts. Could it be that the priest foresaw the damnation of the town and was trying to protect it t?'
His expression turned dark.
There were some answers he would never get to know since those that could answer them were already rotting.
Dust sighed then focused his attention on the Rippling Blade.
"Sorry, Regilus. I just found a new friend." Dust said aloud, testing the weight of the sword. It felt perfectly balanced in his grip.
He sheathed the blade and gathered his belongings. The dried meats from the cellar, the few coins from the treasury, the map showing the way to Ashford. Everything a man with a good head on his shoulders would need to survive a journey through hostile wilderness.
Everything except experience fighting the creatures that ruled the cursed badlands of course.