"Why would you say that?" EeDechi was genuinely surprised. She recalled Alphonse once saying that Daniel's faith "wasn't pure."
The problem was, if Daniel's faith was impure, then EeDechi had no faith at all. As a dyed-in-the-wool atheist, she wasn't sure if she could guide this naive kid through his religious doubts.
"I've killed three elves," Daniel said, his clear eyes locked onto EeDechi's.
Okay, maybe the "naive kid" label needed some tweaking, EeDechi thought to herself.
It made sense, though. Alphonse was the Divine Commandant of Clearwater Scripture, one of the Slane Theocracy's elite Six Scriptures units. No way a group like that was made up of soft-hearted nobodies. Daniel, under Clearwater's banner, was clearly no lightweight either.
"I'm an arcane soldier of Clearwater Scripture. In the Battle of Orosan, the second elf I killed was an elven priest.
"The battlefield was hell—artillery roaring, bodies everywhere, broken swords… Before I ended the elven priest with a Deathbreath Curse from my blade, I heard him praying. He was praying to Elariontha, the elven god. After he finished, something unbelievable happened to his body—and everything around him."
Confusion clouded Daniel's eyes, his gaze distant, haunted by the same old doubts. He continued:
"The elven priest had a gruesome wound through his gut. After he finished praying, the wound closed up at an insane speed. Just one simple prayer, and he pulled off the equivalent of a 3rd Tier healing spell. How's that possible?
"At the same time, I felt this… indescribable force, powerful and warm, like some radiant, holy woman was looking down on me from above. It was so pure, I couldn't even think of defying it.
"I couldn't lift my head. All I wanted was to drop to my knees and gaze at her sacred face. But I held firm, chanted my spell, and killed the priest. That overwhelming pressure vanished right after. Later, I realized—that was the 'divine power' of a foreign god."
"The Battle of Orosan ended, but the war in my head was just getting started. Since then, I've been wrestling with a question: why do other nations, other races, get power when they pray to their gods? Even goblin priests can borrow magic from their savage deities.
"But when we pray to the Six Great Gods, we get nothing. On the battlefield, when I was on death's door, I begged the God of Life to give me the strength to survive. No answer. In the end, it was my teacher who showed up and saved me with a healing spell.
"My teacher, the bishop, the priests—they all told me the Six Great Gods are way stronger than the foreign gods other races worship. So why don't the Six Great Gods answer their loyal followers?
"Then I noticed something. Other nations and races, their armies always have divine casters—priests, clerics, you name it. Not only can they sling healing spells like nobody's business, but they can also pray for blessing magic."
"But in our Slane Theocracy, our divine casters—bishops, priests—their prayers to the Six Great Gods are just… prayers. Just empty muttering."
Daniel's eyes bored into EeDechi, the so-called "Divine Envoy," as he said:
"It's like talking to six plain old rocks that never answer back."
The moment the words left his mouth, Daniel clapped a hand over it, his forehead beading with cold sweat, terrified at his own reckless outburst.
Clap, clap, clap.
EeDechi calmly applauded. In a nation ruled by religion, having such independent, free-thinking spirit was rare indeed.
In Daniel, EeDechi saw a spark—a refusal to blindly follow authority, a boldness to question, a mind that thought for itself.
As for Daniel's doubts, EeDechi understood them all too well. The Six Great Gods weren't true deities. They were just ordinary people who'd crossed over, worshipped as gods because of their immense power.
The history books and scriptures of the Slane Theocracy claimed that five of the Six Great Gods ascended to the heavens, returning to the divine realm. In truth, those five had simply reached the end of their mortal lifespans and died of old age.
And the God of Death, Surshana, who faced the Eight Greed Kings alone and, overwhelmed, had his soul return to the divine realm? The reality was that Surshana fell in battle, never to be heard from again.
There was never a divine realm, no gods, and certainly no Divine Envoy. Everything in the Slane Theocracy was built on the lie of the long-dead Six Great Gods.
But how to break this to Daniel? EeDechi fell silent.
After a moment's thought, she decided to tell the truth: "The Six Great Gods? They were just regular people."
EeDechi laid it all out, explaining that the Six Great Gods were merely travelers from another world, their power far beyond ordinary folk. She thought she'd kept it simple, but Daniel's jaw-dropped, blank-eyed stare made it look like he'd just woken up from a dream to find himself turned into a girl.
"I… I don't really get it…" Daniel mumbled.
"Keep thinking. You'll piece it together. Just don't get stuck in a rut."
EeDechi shoveled a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth, chewing as she mumbled, "If the Six Great Gods were these perfect, holy saints, how'd their divine bloodline get passed down? Gotta be through good old-fashioned mating."
"The scriptures say… it was a gift, the power of their bloodline bestowed by the gods." Daniel was still clearly reeling, his head spinning.
The Slane Theocracy had over six hundred years of history, plenty of time for devout followers to smooth over any shaky logic or inconvenient truths that tarnished the Six Great Gods' image. But a lie's still a lie, and anyone with a sharp mind could spot the cracks if they looked hard enough.
…
In the afternoon, a knock came at the door. Barrett opened it to reveal Alphonse Moreau, the Divine Commandant of Clearwater Scripture.
He wore a dark gray hooded robe and was preparing a short-range teleportation circle to whisk EeDechi away to a top-secret meeting of the Slane Theocracy's highest echelons.
"Greetings, Mr. Moreau," Daniel said, bowing to Alphonse.
"So, how's it going? Under the guidance of the Divine Envoy, has your faith reached new heights?" Alphonse asked with a warm smile, eyeing Daniel.
"Yes, all my doubts have been cleared. I feel my convictions are stronger than ever." Daniel's eyes were clear as crystal, but there was something in them Alphonse couldn't quite grasp.
"Ahem," EeDechi cut in. "Let's get moving. This secret meeting—who's attending?"
"Our supreme leader, Pope Elarion; the Holy Son, Connor Daller; the Divine Commandants of the Six Scriptures, including myself; and you, Divine Envoy. Nine in total."
"Only nine?" EeDechi said, a bit surprised.
In the Slane Theocracy, power was split between the Pope and the Six Scriptures, with the latter holding immense authority. The Pope managed secular affairs, but the Six Scriptures controlled the interpretation of faith and the military.
"Nine is enough to decide the fate of the Slane Theocracy. Follow me."
Alphonse gripped his staff, tracing an intricate teleportation circle on the floor. He and EeDechi stepped into the array.
A flash of azure light, and they were gone.
"Heh heh heh, the captain's off doing serious stuff," Franco said, grinning ear to ear as EeDechi vanished. "Which means we get to do anything but!"
"What's your plan?" Barrett asked.
"Let's hit the brothel!" Franco thrust his hips back and forth, bouncing like an overexcited terrier.
"Uh…" Barrett hesitated. "Nah, you go ahead. I'm sitting this one out."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to piss off the captain," Barrett explained.
"No worries, we'll keep it on the down-low. She'll never know," Franco said with a confident wink.
"Meow~" Cheeko, the cat, let out a cry, its obsidian eyes glaring at them.
Franco scooped it up, holding it close. "You won't snitch, will you, little kitty? You're not gonna spill, right?"
Cheeko shook its head.
"Screw it!" Franco tossed the cat onto the couch. He straightened his collar and declared, "I'm going, no matter what."
He turned to Barrett. "What, you telling me you don't have urges to blow off some steam?"
"Sure I do," Barrett said, not dodging the question.
"Then why not come?"
"I told you, the captain might get mad," Barrett repeated.
"So what? You got needs, you handle 'em. What, you think the captain's gonna jerk you off?" Franco said, his right hand mimicking a cup-gripping, up-and-down motion. "Hell, I'm more likely to give you a hand than she is. Come on, let's go—don't be a wuss!"
"Why do you need me to tag along?" Barrett said, exasperated. "Just go by yourself."
"Heh, well… I don't know the way," Franco admitted, scratching his head.
Barrett sighed. "Fine, I'll show you the way."
"Let's roll! We're hitting the fanciest brothel in town—no sketchy back-alley joints!" Franco said, waving his wand with a flourish.