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Chapter 65: A Challenge of Faith

  Tired legs and weary minds carried everyone up the stairs back to the ground floor. While the way down was fraught with fears and anticipation, the way up was one of a blank silence. Both within and without. Not a word was spoken, and internal monologues were nonexistent. They were still processing what had happened.

  But their feelings? Relief for one, for making it out alive. Post-battle jitters too. But what stood out most of all?

  Disappointment.

  The three finally made it back up, opening the door leading out of the catacombs and finally beholding natural light. The afternoon sun made them all flinch for a moment before their eyes could adjust from the previous dingy torchlight, but as they slowly got used to it, they felt a newfound energy within them. Like at the start of a brand new day.

  “Oh, there you all are,” said the head priest as he entered the back room. “You disappeared some time ago, and by the goddess, what happened to you all?!”

  Before anyone could respond, he was already on them, patting off the dust on their clothes and inspecting them for any injuries.

  “Don’t worry Father, we’re quite fine,” said Sister Elery, trying to gently ease the older man’s concern away.

  “Quite fine? You all look like you were rolling around in the dirt after picking a fight with… oh goodness, did you?”

  “Guilty as charged,” said Artyom as he held up the armor piece for the priest to inspect. “We had a run-in with the undead, but we’re all safe. In fact, that should be the last of them to ever bother the town, right?”

  “Y-yes,” said Sister Elery.

  “That’s wonderful news! But you all look worse for wear, please sit down and let me get you something to eat while I call for a doctor.”

  The priest led the three to the living room and made sure they were comfortable on the couches before he began to look around in confusion.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Neitra.

  “Not quite, but I couldn’t help but wonder where Lensa is? I was certain she went down with you all, seeing as the hero and the rest of his party couldn’t find her after the sermon.”

  The others froze.

  “Well,” said Artyom, slowly working his jaw as he eked out a reply. “She… helped us fight off the undead. But with the armor piece recovered, she realized she’d be the one to head out to the frontier to keep everyone there safe from roving war bands.”

  “She was too sad to say goodbye, so she went off on her own,” added Neitra.

  “I-I see,” said the priest, his head hanging low. “But let me call a doctor and get something for you all to eat.”

  The others let out a collective sigh as soon as he left the room.

  Nobody smiled.

  Nobody said a word.

  Nobody wanted to speak.

  But the weight of the silence eventually forced out what had to be stated.

  “Alright, I’ll be the one to say it then,” said Artyom. “That was total bullshit.”

  The others looked up at him, but didn’t say anything. Their eyes at first were filled with shock at his callous use of language in a place of worship, but that spark of indignation soon faded to match their current enthusiasm for the situation.

  “Yup,” said Neitra, leaning back into her one-seater sofa. She relaxed her muscles to let the old plush cushions swallow her up without any resistance. It only got about a third of the way before stopping, seemingly to her chagrin. “How was Lensa that strong? Nobody is that strong, not even the Dark Lord’s lieutenants or boss monsters! Why doesn’t someone like that just walk over to the Dark Lord and-”

  “I raised her as my own daughter…” said Sister Elery with soft words that cut through the conversation like an anchor through a wedding cake. Her eyes fell to the floor with a weight that would have made it impossible for even Artyom with all his magic to lift back up. “And she said all of that; she tried to kill us.”

  Nobody replied.

  “I don’t even know her anymore, what happened to the little girl I raised within only two short years?”

  Artyom sat up with a groan and looked at Sister Elery with a soft expression. “You know, Lensa got herself embroiled in all this because she loves you.”

  The priestess slowly looked up, her brows creased and mouth slightly ajar as if a question was on the tip of her tongue.

  “She said she was praying to the goddess to tell her where the armor piece was, and I’m pretty sure she got an answer.” He moved one leg over the other while putting his hands behind his head. “She just didn’t like that answer, and did everything to cover for you.”

  Sister Elery closed her mouth and mulled the words deeply before replying. “But what would make her want to kill us afterwards? She called me mama down there.”

  “She’s not human.”

  The silence in the room somehow grew heavier. Even the obnoxious ticks of the clock hanging from the wall was overpowered by the oppressive weight of Artyom’s words.

  “She said it herself,” he slowly continued, feeling even his breath turn heavy. “She was ‘created by the goddess’ for a purpose. Not blessed, not chosen, or anything like that. Created.”

  “Then what is she?” asked Neitra.

  “Some kind of divine construct. She looks human enough, but my strongest attack didn’t even scratch her, and an attack that could pierce half a foot of steel and Neitra’s poison didn’t do a thing when tossed into her open mouth.”

  “A Fatewatcher…” whispered Sister Elery.

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  The others turned to her with confusion.

  “Oh sorry, it’s something I’ve read in obscure scripture. The goddess once created powerful agents to enact her will on the world, but that was hundreds of years ago, and there haven’t been any tales of them since. Sorry, that’s all I know about them. It was a single myth, and lacked much detail.”

  “Were the Fatewatchers from those tales as strong as Lensa was down there?” asked Neitra. “I don’t think even the Dark Lord’s strongest champions are as powerful as that, and I’ve encountered one of them before!”

  “Yes, the tales described a great war the goddess had to use all her power to fight, and how she came out victorious, ushering in an age of peace and prosperity as a result. Her soldiers, the Fatewatchers, were invincible and each was capable of impossible feats that put even the highest leveled individuals in the world to shame.”

  “Great, legendary mythological forces,” said Artyom, rolling his eyes. He hid his rising pulse behind the show of annoyance. If there was one hard rule TOAL had for its soldiers, it was to never tangle with anyone on the level of mythological heroes. Armies, warrior paragons, even legendary monsters were on the table if they had enough properly armed soldiers. But never mythological heroes. That was a constant between worlds, and these Fatewatchers sounded like they fit right into the role.

  Artyom let out a calming sigh, disguising it as a show of annoyance, and continued from where he previously left off. “So Lensa could be one of these Fatewatchers, and that inhuman side of her conflicted with the love she felt for you until it won out.”

  “I suppose so,” said the priestess. “But wouldn’t that inhuman side be closer to the goddess in that case?”

  She looked up with wide eyes, and her breathing began to grow harried. Not as frantic as it was down in the basement, but it was obviously still eating at her.

  “Was the figure I’ve devoted my life to someone that would consign me to death over an inconvenience?” Sister Elery asked. “No, who knows how many could have lived on the front lines if I hadn’t stalled the hero so. This must be punishment for my own sins. But why would she drag Lensa and the Father into it too?”

  Artyom and Neitra looked at each other, and then to the priestess, unsure of what to say. Artyom readied his calming aura, but let her work out her thoughts.

  “I’ve sinned, I’ve done something terrible, I don’t deserve the love of the goddess. But does a goddess like that deserve me? Perhaps we’re simply fit for each other…”

  Just then, the older priest walked in with a tray of small sandwiches and a pot of tea.

  “The doctor should be here in a few minutes, along with the rest of the hero’s party. Though I do believe the latter is, err… busy at the moment and will take some time longer. Please, eat up in the meantime,” he said, placing everything down on a nearby coffee table.

  “Father, I need to make a confession,” said Sister Elery suddenly as she stood up.

  “O-of course, Sister,” replied the older priest. “But please, sit down, you’re injured.”

  “I’m the one responsible for-”

  “Getting us out alive down there,” said Artyom, interrupting the priestess. “Her Skills were perfect for cutting the undead off from the source of their power and letting us get the armor piece in one piece.”

  Sister Elery looked at him in shock, before turning back to the older priest. “No, he means-”

  “She truly did save our lives,” Artyom interrupted again, alongside throwing a quick burst of aura at the priestess to force her to stop.

  “I see, that is wonderful!” said the priest. “I don’t think there’s a servant of the goddess better than you, Sister Elery, I know she is proud.”

  The priestess could only weakly smile and nod.

  “I’ll leave you to rest up and eat, do call me if you need me,” he said, once more leaving the room.

  Artyom released his aura as soon as he was out of earshot.

  “Why did you stop me?” asked Sister Elery in a harsh whisper. “If not Lensa’s or the goddess’ punishment, you know I deserve whatever the town decides to put on me at least.”

  Artyom let out a sigh. “I meant everything I said down there. The kids need you.”

  Sister Elery’s eyes went wide and her mouth closed shut.

  “The only thing you’re actually guilty of is a roundabout Scooby-Doo plot. Nobody got hurt and it was all for a good cause. The only reason I was trying so hard to catch you was so I could ask how your summoning ability works.”

  Neitra’s ears perked.

  “Y-you’re right,” the priestess said, looking down. “I don’t know who could take my place at the orphanage, who could look after them after me…” She took a deep breath and steeled herself. “Thank you, Artyom. For everything,” she said with a thin, confident smile. “So what did you want to know?”

  Artyom smiled back kindly. “No problem. I just wanted to know how rune magic is integrated into your Skill, and where that runic knowledge came from.”

  “Rune magic?” the priestess asked. “Runic knowledge?”

  “It’s how the undead were summoned in the first place. The ring portal they came out of and their constructions had unmistakable signs of rune magic.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard of that before. My Skill is a direct gift from the goddess, and its construction would be solely her domain. I would ask on your behalf, but… I fear she won't answer me after all that’s happened.”

  Artyom shook his head. “Great, a dead end. But to be fair, I don’t think the goddess would answer anything on my behalf even if you were on good terms with her. But if that Skill is solely her responsibility, then that answers plenty. Thank you.”

  Sister Elery nodded, but she looked wearier than just a moment ago, something that seeped down into her very soul.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Neitra, picking up on the priestess’ existential exhaustion.

  “Now what?” she asked, turning to the rogue. “I can go back to the orphanage and continue to take care of the kids with the Skills I have, but can I even call myself a priestess anymore? The goddess and I have essentially abandoned each other, what of my faith now?”

  Nobody said anything at first, but Artyom thought for a long moment before replying.

  “You know, all of existence is pretty big. Somewhere out there is a god or goddess that lives up to the ideal you hold in your heart for who you thought your goddess was. Keep praying to that ideal rather than the definite figure, and let the prayers find their way to who they’re meant for. In a way, that’s what a lot of people do back home.”

  Sister Elery took her time to digest those words, and after a minute, slowly nodded. “I suppose it’s the best I can do now. I’d like to believe that my goddess still exists, maybe she just needs to find me?”

  The other two smiled.

  “That’s the spirit!” exclaimed Artyom.

  The doctor soon arrived and began to look over everyone. She was a middle aged woman with tanned skin and long, black hair. She laid a hand over each person, one at a time, while mumbling the name of a Skill.

  “Looks like you’re all in good condition!” she exclaimed with a wipe of her brow. “It sounded like you got into a big fight, and you all definitely look the part, but you’re all thankfully unharmed. Make sure to rest up for the rest of the day and tomorrow before doing anything strenuous.”

  The doctor soon left, and Sister Elery got up alongside her.

  “The kids have been on their own for too long, I need to check up on them,” said the priestess. “Thank you two again, I’ll… stay strong and keep up with my duty to the kids.”

  Artyom and Neitra waved goodbye as she left, and settled further into their seats.

  “I’m glad we could help Sister Elery in the end,” said Neitra with a smile. “And the kids, and everyone in the frontier.”

  “Yeah, I guess it does feel nice,” replied Artyom.

  “But…” began the rogue. “There are still a lot of things making me feel uneasy.”

  “Like with Lensa being a Fatewatcher, and how she and the others tried to kill us?”

  “That’s part of it,” she replied. “But there’s one other thing.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You said something about Sister Elery’s plan being a Scooby-Doo plot? I remember Tommy talking about that being the name of a story from where he’s originally from.”

  “Huh? I guess I must have heard about it from him,” said Artyom with a shrug.

  “He’s only ever talked about it once; with the party a month before you joined. In private.”

  Artyom continued to look ahead with an emotionless facade as Neitra’s gaze bore into him.

  “Who are you really, Artyom?”

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