Revelation - 2
While half-listening to Trevo's ramblings as they walked, they arrived at a secluded chamber deep within the Great Temple. Like every facility in the Holy Kingdom, it was a space of pure white. Candelabras lined the walls at regular intervals, their candles flickering with soft light. A slight shift in gaze revealed a shallow spring in the center, just large enough for one person. The atmosphere was thick with reverence.
Here is where...
One hears the voices of the gods.
As Vera recalled that, a faint ripple stirred within him. He wasn't entirely sure how the communion worked, but if it allowed for true exchange—if he could dismiss the others and seek permission—there was something he desperately wanted to ask the gods.
Why me?
Why did you choose me? Why bestow the Stigmata upon me? Was sending me back your will? If so, why send me back at all?
He had a vague hunch that the Almighty God had regressed him to save her, but even that wasn't certain, fueling his questions.
Vera's gaze turned to the spring. It was utterly plain—no patterns or decorations, just a hole dug into the floor and filled with water. As he stared at it lost in thought, Trevo spoke up.
"It seems we're the first to arrive."
"Looks that way."
"Hmmm... Wonder when the others will show."
Trevo crossed his arms. Vera was about to say they wouldn't be long when—
Creeeak—
The chamber door swung open.
"I've arrived."
"Me too."
It was the twins. Vera and Trevo's eyes snapped toward them as their booming voices echoed through the room. The twins met their gazes, then muttered in gloomy tones.
"Someone beat us here..."
"Not first place..."
"...You've come."
Vera greeted the twins, then let out a quiet breath and looked away. His thoughts scattered. It was that infuriating way they spoke. They'd grown somewhat closer over the past week repairing the hut together, but their speech patterns were something Vera could never get used to.
"Congratulations on your revelation, Vera."
"I congratulate you too."
"...Thanks."
Vera shut his mouth, not wanting to drag it out. Silence fell, the awkwardness thickening, until Trevo—still smiling faintly—addressed the twins.
"You must have had a hard journey. How fares your duty?"
"We guarded. Worked hard. But it's hot."
"I guarded too. Sweating now."
"Haha, sweltering weather indeed. Why not rest in the shade?"
"Can't. Must guard the gate."
"I vowed to work hard too."
Vera wanted to plug his ears at the exchange. Did these weirdos share some secret language? The conversation showed no sign of stopping. His expression soured naturally, and he wished someone—anyone—would hurry up and arrive. Then the door creaked open again.
Vera turned at the sound. At the threshold stood a middle-aged man in white clerical robes. A stranger, but Vera knew him instantly. Who else among those expected today could it be, when he knew everyone's face but this one?
The Apostle of Guidance.
That had to be it. The impression hit immediately: disheveled. Faded blond hair hung unkempt; his beard was a scruffy mess. He yawned hugely, his staggering gait like a drunkard's. Vera sized him up, nodded in quick understanding.
Definitely not normal.
He'd half-expected it from Norn's reaction, but yep. The vibe was off from the start. Less heavenly messenger, more like a regular at the gambling den he'd run in his past life.
"Aigoo, why's everyone so diligent? Makes this late old man feel bad."
"Ah, you've arrived?"
"Aigoo, teacher! How've you been?"
"Same as always. Ah, Vera. This is the one conducting today's revel—"
"Rohan's here."
Interrupting Trevo, the Apostle of Guidance—Rohan—strode in and approached Vera with a sleazy grin.
"This gloomy kid's the Apostle of Oath? No way. How old are ya?"
"...Fourteen. Vera."
"Aigoo! Prime age for gettin' all hot and bothered. Want this uncle to hook ya up with somethin' nice? Place kids your age can't normally go, but uncle here's got connections... Whaddya say, wanna check it out?"
Rohan's fist thrust toward Vera; his thumb poked out between index and middle finger, wiggling suggestively. Vera got the meaning instantly, scowled, and replied.
"...No thanks."
"Eh? Aw, no fun."
His puckered smirk grated. Vera clenched his fist unconsciously, grinding his teeth.
Rohan smirked lazily at him, then turned to the twins.
"Or maybe our twins wanna go?"
"Embarrassing. That's bad."
"I like it. I'm good at hot and bothered."
"Aigoo, yeah! Little bro Marek's got the fire! Huh? And Krek, buddy! I'm the Apostle of Guidance! Guidin' our sweet ladies straight to heaven—what's wrong with that?!"
Vera watched with thick disgust. Rohan laughed heartily; Marek blushed, Krek looked glum. Trevo smiled serenely. Harmful bunch, every one. The conviction swelled: Keep the Saint far from these people.
She was so pure-hearted—yet her past actions were bizarre. Who else but these fools could be the cause?
Vera shook his head. No, the heaviest blame lay with him.
*
Vargo arrived amid Rohan's rambling monologue.
"So this uncle here... Ah, you've come?"
"Yeah. When do you plan on growing up?"
"Ehehe..."
Vargo clicked his tongue and glared; Rohan groveled obsequiously. The twins stiffened. Trevo hid behind them. The mood shifted in an instant. Vera stifled a chuckle at how they all tamed the moment Vargo appeared, then bowed to him.
"You've arrived."
"Yeah. Looks like you've been eatin' well—face is fillin' out."
The words sounded mocking. Vera's fist tightened slightly.
"...Yes. Thanks to you, I'm no longer starving."
Irritation bubbled up as he spoke, but Vera held it down. Vargo personally managed his food and gear allotments. Annoying old man or not, he had to play nice. Especially now, when he needed to bulk up—no way he'd risk rations getting cut.
Vargo chuckled and nodded at the bowed Vera.
"Good. Eat well and earn your keep."
"...Yes."
Vera bowed deeper. Vargo, finishing with him, turned to Rohan.
"Is the ritual prepared?"
"Uh..."
Rohan blinked blankly.
"W-Well... Seein' the little bros after so long got me excited, so I kinda... forgot?"
"Tch. Useless."
"Ehehe..."
Rohan groveled harder.
"I-I'll get it done quick!"
"Hurry. My back aches—can't stand long."
"Yessir!"
Wasn't even prepared? Vera nearly laughed in disbelief. What gave him the confidence?
"Heard you've been workin' hard on that hut. Goin' well?"
Vargo's question followed. Vera realized it was about his holy arts training and met his eyes squarely.
"Yes. Form and intent. Both mastered."
A smile tugged at Vera's lips. He'd said it hoping to surprise the old man.
"Sure you did."
Just scoffing. Irritation flared again.
"...I did master them. Not sword forms, but by processing the formation to engrave power into space, I shaped the form. Through it, I captured the intent to overcome my weaknesses. Completion-wise, it's fully practical."
"What does that have to do with a guardian's sword? Who told you to practice divine spells? I said stop swinging like a berserker—how'd you interpret that?"
Vera flinched. Panic crept into his face. Looking back... yes.
Form and intent—Vargo had said that critiquing his aggressive swordplay. Divine spells...
...Never mentioned.
Realization dawned; his face paled. His gaze flicked to Trevo—naturally, since he'd explained it. Glaring at Trevo, who was peeking from behind the twins, Trevo scratched his head and tilted it quizzically. Baffled. Flustered.
From that, Vera pieced it together. Trevo had spouted off like an expert on something he barely understood. And he'd bought it wholesale, spending a week on bad advice.
...He had grasped a new use for divine power. It was meaningful time. Still, the feeling of being duped lingered.
Ulcer rising, Vera glared daggers at Trevo. This bastard!
Crazy or con artist?
As Vera seethed, Vargo sneered.
"Tch tch. No decent ones here."
Crunch—
Vera's knuckles whitened, veins bulging.
*
"Preparations complete!"
Rohan's call shattered the heavy mood. Vera looked up, past him to the spring. No offerings or items placed. The difference: a formation.
Azure divine power layered over the water, forming a ritual circle. Holy arts-based. Likely for communing with the divine realm.
Vera's eyes fixed on it as Rohan continued.
"Shall we begin?"
"Yes. Proceed."
"Yessir! C'mere, kid."
Vera nodded at the summons and approached the spring.
"What do I do?"
"Just stand still. I'll activate the ritual; the revelation appears above. Read it aloud."
One-way, then. Vera felt a twinge of regret—no questions for the gods. His expression darkened slightly as Rohan manipulated the circle. The formation glowed; geometric patterns shifted. Impossible polyhedrons realigned, overlapping at the center, forming a gap through which...
...letters.
Azure script, ink-like at first, sharpened into clarity, then readable form. The words—or trial—would dictate his path forward.
Tense, Vera watched intently.
...?
He frowned at the completed text. Words slipped out.
"...I have a question."
"Huh? Spit it out. This is tiring."
"Does it... come out like this sometimes?"
Vera pointed at the letters hovering over the spring.
"What's that?"
Rohan paused the formation and peered.
"...Huh?"
Absurdity dripped from his voice. Mouth agape, he turned to Vargo.
"Y-Your Holiness?"
"What."
Rohan's eyes flicked to Vera, the text, then Vargo. Scratching his head:
"It says... passed?"
Vargo's face hardened. Vera, watching, found wry amusement—not in the baffling situation, but the old man's flustered expression.
[PASSED]