Chapter 6: Boundaries

"Restraint in the face of the undeserving."​

You are— above all other things— the leader of the Church of Mercy. Your correction rings out effortlessly. No indication of your mortal weakness can be found in your speech. You speak of the Goddess, and She speaks through you.

"We will not permit the loss of any more souls here."

Releasing a modicum of the restraint on the people about you (so that they may better look and listen) takes so much strain off of your form that you can properly breathe again.

"Not while We still draw breath."

Not a soul interrupts. Your speech is directed to all of them. The edges of your mind are as soft as molten gold. So are your words. "You all have lingered in the darkness, separated from Her light. You have all strayed. It's alright. We are only human. It is human to stray. We all have done so." You confess without shame, "even I am no exception. Despite having wandered— having strayed— the Goddess has always answered my prayers. I have been blessed by the light of Mercy. She has enabled me to see beyond the darkness. She has blessed me with purpose when none could be found. She has answered me without fail."

The mortal coil— your hand— rises. The palm is overflowing with liquid gold.

"She will always listen. Mercy's forgiveness is endless. She is neither judgement nor deliverance. She is ultimate understanding, and She is always with you. Do you see Her works?" You can't help but close the offering, to draw in the focus of so many men and women around you who are utterly incapable of speech.

They are listening. The proof of the Goddess spills from the scars lacing your hands, and over the burns that are healing before the eyes of anyone who cares to look upon them.

"We know you do. Your eyes have have been opened."

Their gaze mirrors Her luster. You know Time is precious, but the message of your Goddess needs to be heard in full.

"Though it is human to stray, it is human to seek compassion as well. We need not cower in the darkness. Even now, you all hold onto one another. Hold onto Our message. Take what has been given. Cherish Our blessing. Grant yourselves the same Mercy. Offer it freely to your fellow man. You always have the choice to show restraint in the face of the undeserving. You always have the choice to take heart in the Goddess and all of Her works."

There is one member of the congregation that needs your help above all others. "There is no need for fear. The Gods are Merciful."

Light and immaculacy hangs in the air several long moments after your speech ends.

To the priests beside you (who are too stunned to immediately assault anyone), you utter a final command. You are really overstepping your boundaries— ordering the children of another Father— but there's no helping it. You can't trust them to not follow a lifetime of training and struggle. Not against a force none of you truly comprehend.

"No one is killing this demon. Not until We have exhausted every other possible option. Have We made Our message clear?"

There is no protest. Despite all of their tension, the hulking muscle, blood lacing their forms and their obvious strength, the priests still themselves. They choose to obey your command.

A warm embrace is all over you the instant you grant the Goddess a safe opportunity. She sinks into you so deeply and perfectly that you can scarcely breathe. There's heat, and light, and She can't keep Herself off of you—

"Father Anscham." For what you imagine is at least the fourth time today, Father Friedrich has called upon his God.

The church leader's hand is clutching onto your shoulder, and jerks hard on the wasted muscle. It rouses you back into the material world. He's likely unaware of what a blessing such a rough movement produces in you. Smoke pools before the gold in your eyes as you look upon his broader shoulders, and the fire rising from his muscle.

"We need you to move. They'll see to the demon. You've seen to your children. Let's get going. Father Wilhelm would surely benefit from our aid."

At the front of the stables— bracing hard against the door opposite— are two priests and your faithful mastiff. There must have been something rattling against the barricaded wood all this time, for what little heed you paid to anything other than Gods and demons.

You stride up to them alongside the Father of the Church of Flesh, and stand tall.

The hinges of the stable door groan against the force of your enemies. The two priests that have been keeping the defense at bay all this time look to you for permission to open the gates, and to unleash the battle.

There are cries, moans, and the scent of sulfur pouring from the other side of the door. A little motivation seems prudent.

You are not normally a soft-spoken man. You are all conviction, devotion and love when you speak of the Gods. "The light of Mercy will guide even the foulest of demons! Take heart!"

The line holds.

With all of the strength you can muster, you merely grimace, and keep your lips tight. The blessing of your Goddess needs to remain a private affair for how intimately She's working through you. You kneel, intending to command your loyal dog, and gold explodes in your vision. The motion goes above and beyond how exhausted you already are.

Mercy.

In a low voice and a simple series of gestures, you command Ray. "I love you, boy, but you need to stay behind. Don't give me that face. It's alright. Look after them for us. Stay safe. You're such a good boy, Ray."

The hound obeys without any hesitation. All of his muscle and scars don't dare to lap at your hands, but looks to you lovingly. It only takes him a moment to approach the congregation, while keeping enough distance to make them as comfortable as he can. His watch begins.

They'll be alright.

The creak and snap of solid wood steals your attention away from his dutiful form.

The stable doors burst open. Six imps made of hideous amalgamations of muscle, bone, veins and sinew erupt from the world outside. A deadly barrage of molten blood pelts forth from the cracks in the defense. More liquid crimson oozes from every opening, kicking up flames and cinder.

Both priests at the forefront practically launch themselves behind you. The Father of the Church of Mercy is known for granting protection.

You intend to uphold your vows.