The Prophet's Confession
The paladins and priests who had been frantically drawing their swords all froze in place.
The Sun Church members' faces darkened with despair the moment they saw Kasis held captive.
“O Lumena…”
“O Lumena, deliver us from this tribulation…”
Moans of defeat and fragments of prayer rose from every corner.
“Those vile bastards… damn it all!”
“How? Where were they hiding?”
The paladins muttered under their breath, grinding their teeth.
I stared at the Idras cultist pressing a blade to Kasis’s throat and felt a flicker of confusion.
What’s their real goal?
If simply killing the prophet had been the objective, they would have slit her throat and fled already. Instead, they kept her alive, using her as a shield while the standoff dragged on.
They didn’t come here just to assassinate the prophet.
Jacob’s earlier warning flashed through my mind. He had described the Idras cult as especially vicious, relying on cruel and underhanded terror tactics to undermine the Sun Church. They were the ones to watch more than any other heretics.
“Quiet.”
The cultist holding Kasis finally spoke.
“Choose. Offer up the prophet, and the rest of you may live. In exchange…”
I understood exactly why Jacob had called them despicable.
“If you wish to save the prophet, then sacrifice five of your paladins. Including the newly appointed one.”
It was a vile hostage game. They were forcing an impossible choice: kill the prophet or kill five paladins.
Either option would stain the Sun Church’s honor.
Whichever side they pick, the church’s reputation will be dragged through the mud.
“I’ll give you time to discuss. Decide among yourselves who to offer. Try anything clever and I’ll simply kill the prophet and leave.”
While the priests’ expressions grew darker, I lowered my voice and turned to Draksan.
“What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Any chance of pulling this off?”
I meant rescuing Kasis. Draksan understood without further explanation. He scanned the priests, paladins, the surrounding cultists, and the unnaturally dense trees and vines that had sprouted everywhere.
“…It’ll be difficult. The trees block every straight path.”
The cultists had planned meticulously. As followers of the World Tree, they possessed the power to manipulate plants. They had used that ability to turn the area into a living maze.
If we rush in recklessly, we’ll only get Kasis killed.
My gaze dropped to the axe at Draksan’s waist.
“If you clear the plants with your axe while I charge, could it work?”
“Maybe if there were two or three of us. Alone, I can’t guarantee I’ll cut through fast enough. The trunks are too thick.”
Draksan stopped mid-sentence. One of the cultists had turned our way.
There was no time to refine a plan, and continuing to whisper would only draw more attention.
The priests…
I sharpened my hearing and caught fragments of their discussion.
“O Lumena, O Lumena…”
“With these vines in the way, reaching the prophet is…”
“There are too many enemies. We don’t even know how many more are hidden…”
“…We have no choice. We must choose…”
The priests had also searched for a counterattack at first, but now their conversation had shifted to deciding whom to sacrifice.
“If we truly must offer someone, then perhaps…”
“It would be better to give up the prophet…”
The tide was turning toward offering Kasis.
“Her prophetic power has been useless for a long time anyway.”
The “Doctrine Faction” priests were pushing the idea. They had never fully accepted Kasis and now used the loss of her abilities as justification.
“Of course, we should never weigh one life against another! But we are forced to weigh them now.”
“If we’re going to sacrifice the prophet anyway, we might as well attempt a counterattack.”
“And if that gets both the prophet and the paladins killed…?”
The discussion was nearing its conclusion. They were going to choose Kasis.
It wasn’t so much a choice as an admission that they saw no other option.
And I had no intention of letting it happen.
If there’s truly no other way…
My hand rested on the Longevity Herb potion.
I didn’t know what effects or side effects it carried. But it would be far stronger than anything I had taken before.
Perhaps it could overturn this hopeless situation.
Or perhaps the backlash would destroy my body beyond repair.
It doesn’t matter.
Sometimes you have to roll the dice.
I watched the priests begin to move toward the platform. The moment they made their choice, the moment the cultists raised their blades to kill Kasis—that fleeting opening was when I would drink the potion.
Then a sharp voice rang out.
“No!”
It was unfamiliar yet strangely familiar.
I looked at Kasis. Tears streaked her face as she cried out.
“I—I’m not the prophet anymore!”
The unexpected confession echoed across the clearing.
* * *
Everyone stood stunned.
The Sun Church priests and paladins, even the Idras cultists, stared in open shock. Some searched Kasis’s expression, wondering if she was lying to save herself.
“The—the divine oracle has vanished. I can’t prophesy anymore.”
Kasis kept shouting, heedless of their reactions.
She had a reason for revealing the truth here and now.
“Please, just let me live. I’m not the prophet. Killing me won’t mean anything… it won’t mean anything at all…”
She wanted to survive.
She had once been supported by the Oracle Faction—the priests who believed any word spoken by a prophet who received divine oracles must be respected. They hadn’t supported her; they had supported the title of prophet.
If it became known that she no longer received oracles, that she was no longer a prophet, the Oracle Faction would abandon her.
And once stripped of both her supporters and her usefulness, what would become of her?
The Sun Church was famous for its compassion, forgiveness, and mercy. Yet inside its walls the atmosphere could be merciless. Priests and paladins were sometimes stripped of their positions over the smallest pretext, especially when the two factions were locked in bitter conflict.
They might cast me out.
Without supporters or value, she would be discarded. For Kasis, being cast out was no different from death. She had lived her entire life within the church; outside its walls she had no skills, no connections, nothing. The only talent she had ever possessed was the luck of receiving an oracle.
So she had lied.
She claimed she could no longer distinguish real oracles from hallucinations. She insisted the oracle itself had not disappeared, only been neutralized by the hallucinations.
At first she had meant to lie only for a little while. Once the conflict between the factions eased, she would tell the truth. But the conflict never eased; it only grew worse. The lie became harder and harder to retract.
One lie demanded another. She had even lied to Kain, the famous counselor of the kingdom.
She had never imagined the deception would last this long.
“So please… please just let me live. I’m…”
She had never imagined the lie would be exposed like this, either.
Even to herself, it all felt unbearably ugly—the initial lie born of fear of expulsion, the desperate confession now made simply to stay alive.
Perhaps she should have chosen death with dignity. That would have been more noble.
No. She couldn’t. She simply couldn’t.
Kasis truly wanted to die. She wanted to end her life. At the same time she wanted to live, desperately, madly. Two incompatible desires clashed inside her until she could no longer tell which was which.
I think I’m going to be sick.
Kasis lifted her head.
The first thing she saw were the stares directed at her—priests, paladins, even the cultists—expressions of shock and faint disgust.
Then her eyes widened.
Three figures were sprinting toward the platform.
Kain, the counselor. The large man with the axe she had seen once at the counseling office. And Yurion.
Yurion, newly granted his sword, was running straight for her. His eyes glowed with a brilliant blue light.
Kasis recognized that light at once.
The light of the oracle.
The light that belonged to a prophet.
* * *
The moment Kasis confessed the full truth, the entire area fell into stunned silence.
Priests, paladins, and cultists alike stood frozen in disbelief.
I felt that collective shock wash over me. The tangled scents of killing intent, hostility, confusion, and fear had all been replaced by the sharp, cloying smell of pure bewilderment.
Now.
I seized the opening.
Glug.
I pulled out the Longevity Herb potion and drank it down.
The moment the liquid touched my tongue, my senses sharpened dramatically. Time seemed to slow, just as it had when I drank the undiluted Call of the Dawn. Every speck of dust in the air became visible.
Already this strong?
I broke into a run toward Kasis.
Footsteps followed close behind—Draksan.
As expected.
He had reached the same conclusion: this was their chance to save her.
Draksan drew the axe from his belt. Gripping it with both hands, he swung in one fluid motion.
Swish. Swish.
The thick plant stems blocking our path were sliced clean through as if they were nothing more than straw.
Then he hurled the axe.
Whoosh—thunk!
The spinning weapon buried itself in the head of the cultist guarding the base of the platform. Draksan retrieved it and swung again. Two more cultists fell in an instant.
Thanks to Draksan, a path opened. I kept running. A vine lashed out from behind, trying to snare my ankle.
Swish!
Draksan cut it down before it could reach me. With his help I reached the platform in seconds.
Kasis stood bound at the center, surrounded by a cage of living vines. Her eyes were a storm of conflicting emotions—shock, sorrow, terror, shame.
Too many plants.
Should I draw my scalpel? Even thick stems could be severed with it, especially with my senses this heightened. But the massive trunks—some nearly a meter across—were another matter. A scalpel would barely scratch them.
Swish!
A vine in front of me was suddenly severed with a perfectly clean cut.
Draksan hadn’t finished off the remaining cultists yet. It had only been a second or two.
I turned my head and saw a familiar face.
“Yurion?”
“Let’s go!”
Yurion’s shout was sharp. I didn’t answer; I simply ran.
Swish. Swish.
His sword flashed again and again, precisely cutting away every vine that blocked our path. At a glance it looked like wild swings, yet the blade never came near me. Every strike landed only on the plants.
…It’s as if he already knows exactly how I’m going to move.
There was no time to marvel.
The cultist’s blade was already biting into Kasis’s neck. Now that the truth was out, they had decided to kill her regardless of whether she was still the prophet.
With my nerves accelerated by the potion, the trickle of blood seemed to move with agonizing slowness. Kasis’s face twisted in pain and fear.
We were still too slow. Even at full speed, by the time we reached her the blade would already have finished its work.
Throw the scalpel? The moment I reached for it, her throat would be cut. One scalpel wouldn’t stop that sword anyway.
Damn it. I should have grabbed a rock on the way here. I’d charged in with no plan at all.
Was there any other way? Any method at all…?
Crackle!
A spark-like sensation flared inside my skull.
I understood. The Longevity Herb potion had finally taken full effect.
In that instant I knew exactly what the potion granted. It wasn’t knowledge I learned—it was something my body felt. A single line from the book The Dangers of the Longevity Herb surfaced in my mind.
—After drinking the elixir refined from the Longevity Herb, the man who had never been a mage began to wield magic.
This world was made of mana. Those who could sense and control it were called mages.
Innate mages could reshape mana into any form they desired.
The principle of fire magic was simply changing mana into the shape of flame and controlling it.
And now, having drunk the Longevity Herb potion, I could feel mana.
I couldn’t reshape it the way a true mage could.
But I could move it.
In other words—
Psychokinesis.
I thrust my hand toward the cultist.
Crack!
“Aaaaargh!”
The cultist’s arm twisted at an unnatural angle. A scream tore from his throat.
The hand gripping the knife went limp. The blade clattered to the platform.
But losing the knife didn’t make Kasis safe. These cultists were trained killers. Even unarmed, a single hand could snap her neck.
And that was exactly what the remaining cultist was trying to do. His free hand lunged for her throat.
I have to restrain him.
No.
I have to kill him.
I reached out, palm open, then clenched my fist.
It felt like squeezing a soaked sponge.
Crunch.
A sickening sensation traveled up my arm. The cultist’s body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
His hood fell away, revealing a crushed skull. One eyeball rolled across the platform.
I had just crushed a man’s head with psychokinesis. There had been no other choice.
This wasn’t the time for guilt. I ran straight to Kasis.
“Kasis.”
Her legs gave out. I caught her before she could fall.
She looked up at me, eyes glistening with tears.
“K-Kain… thank you—”
“So that’s why the hallucinations never went away. You were lying to me the whole time, weren’t you?”
Her eyes trembled as she met my gaze.