The Temple of the Mother Goddess in Veli City was the most magnificent structure in the entire city, without equal. Its solemn halls were built from pristine white stone, standing in stark contrast to the red-brick houses common throughout southern Elfin. Above the main gate gleamed a golden emblem of the sacred tree, the symbol of the Mother Goddess Sethis.
Hank brought the carriage to a stop at the edge of the plaza before the temple. He looked at the imposing doors, then turned to Nolan, a cigar clamped between his teeth as he exhaled a thick plume of smoke.
“Why are we here to see a priest?” he asked. “I’ve never seen you pray even once. Since when did you become so devout?”
“Priest Kayan isn’t like the clergy you’re imagining,” Nolan replied, leaning casually against the carriage shaft as he watched the tightly shut doors. “He’s a true believer and a fighter. More than that, he’s a true patriot.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than the massive doors swung open with a thunderous boom.
Everyone’s attention snapped toward the entrance.
Four temple guards in red robes were dragging a struggling man out by force. He had a cropped haircut and a burly, bear-like build. A pair of round glasses sat crooked on his face, and his white priest’s robe was twisted and disheveled from the scuffle.
“Listen to me! You don’t understand!”
He was hauled to the edge of the high steps, and without the slightest mercy, the guards hurled him forward.
With a muffled grunt, the man lost his balance and tumbled down more than a dozen steps before crashing heavily onto the cold stone pavement below.
Clang!
A cross-shaped staff taller than a man was thrown out after him, landing beside him with a harsh, jarring sound.
Then a middle-aged man in a blue robe appeared at the top of the steps. His expression was stern as he looked down at the fallen priest, his voice filled with anger. “Enough! I’ll say this one last time, Kayan. Don’t think that being the archbishop’s favored disciple gives you the right to spread panic and mislead the masses here!”
Kayan struggled to prop himself up, half-lying on the ground as he looked up without fear. “Your Excellency, I am not lying! Every word I’ve said is true!” His voice was hoarse, but his tone remained sharp. “The Mother Goddess Sethis has granted me revelation. I have seen fragments of the future with my own eyes. The undead armies of Shiva will be unstoppable, and the temple’s inaction will become a footnote in the kingdom’s destruction. Please, you must believe me!”
“Absurd!”
The bishop’s face twisted with fury.
“The destruction of the kingdom? Utter nonsense! The Shiva Empire is nothing more than a scattered rabble. I have overseen this temple for over a decade, and they have never once mounted a proper offensive. What could you possibly understand?”
He stepped forward, his voice growing even harsher.
“Kayan, your priestly consecration was personally presided over by the archbishop. Countless people would kill for such a future, yet you still complain? I know exactly why you keep causing disturbances in the temple, preaching about war. You are dissatisfied, ungrateful. It is that pathetic ‘dream of becoming a Templar Knight’ that drives you!”
The bishop drew a deep breath and delivered his final warning.
“I am warning you, and only out of respect for the archbishop. If I hear you inciting violence again, or using your delusions to blaspheme the great Mother Goddess Sethis, the Temple of Veli City will declare you a heretic at once and impose a permanent ban. Consider yourself warned.”
With that, the blue-robed bishop turned sharply and strode back into the temple with the four guards.
Boom! The heavy doors slammed shut behind them, cutting off all sound.
Kayan lay half-reclined on the ground, staring blankly at the closed doors as the light in his eyes slowly dimmed.
Passersby in the plaza pointed at him and whispered among themselves. They avoided him as though he carried a plague.
“There he goes again, that mad priest.”
“I heard he’s obsessed with becoming a Templar Knight. He spouts nonsense all day, claiming he’s received revelations from the Mother Goddess.”
“Stay away from him. Don’t get tainted by a blasphemer’s misfortune.”
“Idiot, keep your voice down!”
When Hank and the others heard the bishop call out the name “Kayan,” they all turned to look at Nolan in unison.
Hank raised an eyebrow, removed the cigar from his mouth, and flicked off some ash. “This is the ‘true believer’ you were talking about?” he said with a curl of his lips. “Doesn’t look like he’s doing too well.”
But Nolan’s eyes shone with excitement. That was him. The man cast out by the temple, yet posthumously honored as a saint of unwavering faith, Saint Kayan.
The protagonist of the legendary quest “Patriotism and Faith”, he was the hero of the Second Mandala War. Known as “Fervent Zeal,” his name alone struck fear into the undead. Over the course of his life, his victories accounted for a full third of the Southern Legion’s total achievements.
In the final battle of that era, he paid with his life to unleash a forbidden twelve-circle divine spell, Heaven’s Salvation. With his power alone, he annihilated fifty thousand undead, fulfilling both his loyalty and his faith.
This time, Nolan would not allow that hero’s fate to end in tragedy again.
A surge of heat rose in his chest.
***
Kayan sat on the ground, dazed and dispirited, the murmurs around him cutting like knives. Just as he was sinking into a deep sense of helplessness, a hand extended toward him.
A calm voice sounded above his head, “Do you need a hand, Priest?”
Kayan looked up and saw a strangely dressed mercenary.
Though his thoughts were still in disarray, he did his best to maintain his composure. He nodded and offered a quiet word of thanks.
Grasping the offered hand, he felt a steady, powerful grip pull him effortlessly to his feet.
“My apologies for the spectacle. The temple… it wasn’t always this unreasonable.” Once he had steadied himself, he gave an apologetic smile, adjusted his glasses, and brushed the dust from his priest’s robe.
Despite his tall, muscular build, the robe and round glasses lent him a touch of scholarly refinement. The contrast between the two impressions made his presence feel oddly disjointed.
“Pleasure to meet you, Priest Kayan.”
The man spoke again, his tone clear and composed, his bearing refined. He seemed nothing like a crude mercenary. Instead, he carried himself like a well-bred knight.
“I’m Nolan, from Shire Town.”
Little Donnie hurried over, trying to help pick up the fallen cross-shaped staff. He reached for it with one hand, but misjudged its weight. The staff tilted awkwardly, nearly wrenching his back.
“Damn, that’s heavy!” His face filled with astonishment.
Kayan paused mid-motion, looking at Nolan with a hint of surprise. “Hello, Nolan of Shire… do you know me?” He walked over and took the staff from Little Donnie with ease, lifting it one-handed. “Ah, thank you, young man.”
Nolan shook his head, his smile warm and sincere. “No, I simply once had the fortune to hear one of your sermons. It left a deep impression on me.” He paused, then gestured toward Hank and Little Donnie behind him. “As it happens, we are former members of the Rosenberg Guard. This is our former captain, and this is our squad leader.”
The two men nodded in greeting.
Nolan lifted his gaze and met Kayan’s eyes directly. “We personally experienced the Shiva invasion you spoke of, the one everyone dismisses as nonsense. You were right. The undead will threaten the very survival of the kingdom.”
The words “Shiva invasion” froze Kayan in place.
For a man of his imposing build, his eyes filled with tears in an instant.
He suddenly dropped the staff and grabbed Nolan’s arms with both hands, shaking them excitedly with such force that it hurt. “I knew it! I knew the battle at Rosenberg wasn’t that simple! The Mother Goddess’ revelation was real. It’s all real!” His words tumbled over each other, his voice trembling. “Praise Sethis! At last… at last, someone believes me!”
Nolan was momentarily taken aback by the sudden outburst of emotion. He patted Kayan’s arm, trying to calm him. “Priest Kayan, take it easy. Since that’s the case, why don’t we find somewhere to talk?”
Moments ago, Kayan had been sinking into the abyss of self-doubt. Now he was like a drowning man who had grasped a lifeline, as though he had finally found companions who understood him. He nodded vigorously.
They had barely taken a few steps when a deep male voice called out from behind them.
“Kayan? You still dare to show your face here?”
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