Chapter 35: The Hero’s PoV
The cathedral was vast.
It stretched beneath a ceiling so high it resembled an artificial sky, its painted constellations disappearing into the dim light filtering through stained glass. Rows of candles burned within the alcoves, their flames casting restless shadows across the marble floor.
Lucian knelt before the monumental statue of the Goddess.
The statue depicted the Goddess holding a sword against her own heart, her face turned toward an unseen sky. Lucian had studied that expression for years and still could not decide whether the sculptor had intended pain, acceptance, or something beyond either.
His prayers were silent.
He had been kneeling there for hours, his body still while his thoughts continued circling the same memory. The duel had ended days ago, yet certain details refused to fade: his blade caught at the wrong angle, the thin line of blood across his neck, and the faint smile on Caelus’s face when he realized Lucian had lost control of the exchange.
He could still see the way Caelus moved, anticipating attacks before they had fully formed and responding to combinations before Lucian completed them. Skill could explain quick reactions. Experience could explain good judgment. Neither explained the familiarity with which Caelus seemed to read him.
The memory blurred, and another image forced its way into his mind.
He stood before Caelus again, his sword was buried in the boy’s chest, blood running down the blade as Caelus’s body folded around it.
The image vanished before Lucian could understand it.
The whisper returned.
Kill him.
What unsettled him was not the vision itself, but the voice behind it. He still didn’t know whether it had come from the Goddess, his own mind, or something he didn’t yet understand. He had heard it during the duel carrying the weight of a command rather than a suggestion.
Why, Goddess?
He continued his silent prayer.
Do I need to kill him?
No answer came.
That silence was familiar.
The Goddess reached out when she wanted something from him, yet whenever Lucian needed guidance of his own, there was nothing. No explanation or reassurance. Not even a direction he could mistake for one.
He hated that more than he wanted to admit.
Why had she chosen him?
What did she expect from him now?
He had no answers.
Doubt was a luxury the Hero was never supposed to possess.
He had been taught that from the moment he was chosen. He was not merely a warrior who carried the Goddess’s blessing. He was the symbol humanity had chosen to place its faith in. If the Hero faltered, people would see it. If they saw him falter, they would begin to question everything behind him.
At least, that was what he had been told.
Lucian had spent years convincing himself it was true.
So he continued praying, even without an answer.
The words came easily. He had recited them thousands of times.
They brought no comfort today.
Footsteps echoed behind him before stopping several paces away. Lucian finished his prayer, rose slowly, and turned.
Cardinal Endrosire stood a few paces away. His expression was composed, his hands folded behind his back. He did not speak. Speaking inside the cathedral was forbidden, but his gesture was clear.
Follow me.
Lucian followed.
---
The corridor outside the cathedral was quieter, but its silence carried none of the weight of the sanctuary. Portraits of former Popes lined the stone walls, their painted gazes following him as he walked beside Endrosire.
Lucian spoke first.
"What can I help you with, Cardinal?"
Endrosire did not waste time.
"Did you use your affinity?"
"No."
Endrosire regarded him steadily. "Even so, how did he defeat you?"
Lucian’s jaw tightened. "He didn’t defeat me."
"The match was declared a draw."
"That’s not what I said."
Endrosire studied him in silence.
Lucian knew what the Cardinal was reminding him of. He was the Hero. His victories belonged to humanity, and his defeats were treated the same way. The duel had been one he had initiated himself, and now the Church was left cleaning up the damage.
"You cannot afford a humiliating defeat," Endrosire said carefully. "Particularly not against a D-rank cripple who was already regarded as insignificant. The duel was yours to win. The Church is now managing the consequences."
Lucian kept his voice level. "I understand the situation."
"Do you?"
"He knew my techniques."
Endrosire’s expression flickered. "Impossible."
Lucian didn’t argue. The Cardinal’s objection was obvious. The Hero’s fighting style was not something outsiders were supposed to know. The Church guarded its techniques, combinations, and patterns carefully.
Yet Caelus had moved as if those secrets had never been secrets at all.
"I don’t know," he admitted. "But I think he knew me before we ever met."
Endrosire studied him, then gave a slow shake of his head.
"That’s absurd."
"Perhaps."
"Even if he had somehow seen the techniques beforehand," Endrosire continued, "predicting every move and combination would still be impossible. You’re suggesting something else entirely."
Lucian said nothing. He was thinking about the contradiction.
If someone like him can defeat me... what exactly did the Goddess choose me for?
He did not voice the thought. He did not need to.
Endrosire let the subject die without pressing it further. Then his tone shifted.
"The Church is already managing the situation. We’re preparing to spread subtle rumors that Caelus Vespera is a corrupt contractor."
Lucian’s expression hardened. "He is not a contractor."
The Cardinal dismissed the objection. "That’s none of your concern."
The answer irritated him more than the accusation itself.
It wasn’t about whether the rumor was useful. It was about whether it was true.
He said nothing.
Endrosire gave him no opportunity to continue the argument. He turned and continued down the corridor, and Lucian followed in silence until they reached an enormous pair of doors.
"Her Holiness wants to speak with you."
The Cardinal stayed.
Lucian entered.
The room beyond was smaller than Lucian expected. A tall window occupied most of the far wall, overlooking the city below. Late sunlight spilled across the floor in long golden bands.
A woman stood before the window, her long golden hair falling down the back of her white robes. Golden eyes reflected the light as she looked over the city, her clothing almost deliberately simple apart from the emblem at her collar.
He approached and bowed deeply.
"Your Holiness."
She turned toward him. He remained bowed.
"Stand, O Hero."
Lucian remained bowed. The gesture was instinctive. Whatever doubts he carried about the Goddess or the Church, the woman standing before him still represented the highest authority of the institution he had sworn to serve.
"Do you know why I called you here?"
Lucian straightened. He met her gaze.
"How would I know, your Holiness?" he asked. "Please enlighten me."
She studied him for a moment, then spoke.
"The Inquisitors are going to launch a purge."
Lucian’s expression tightened.
"A purge?"
"Yes."
She turned back toward the window.
"And you and the Saintess are going to join them."
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A/N: XD