Chapter 6: A Prayer; An Awakening Part 1

His viewpoint in life began to change when he met her.

Rumors of a warlock hiding in Reinbark, a small town directly under the Church’s governance east of the holy capital, reached the pope’s ears. The pope regarded the matter with great importance, leaving the Order of the Divine no choice but to send Chris to investigate.

Though nothing compared to his elder brothers’ achievements, the people of Reinbark showered him with praise and respect as he arrived at the cathedral. His plate mail bore the azure crest of an Exquisitor, the fourth highest rank in the Celestian army, and his dark cloak and horned helmet screamed of authority.

Chris, however, didn’t partake in the pleasantries. He wanted to finish his mission and get the hell out. He knew from his last assignment not to trust the pope, as he was sent to liquidate a group of heretics under the guise of a simple ‘peace-talk’.

The next day Chris found himself strolling the cathedral’s backyard. The crisp air, the peaceful ambiance, the trimmed bushes lined along the canal — there was no better place to relax.

Chris sat on one of the wooden benches, as he needed a breather from all of the extra responsibilities he just assumed after climbing up a rank.

Seconds after, a disturbance came. A person fell from the grownup Piko tree beside him and wrecked a light post as she rolled on the dirt. The sight of her exposed panties threw Chris into a fit of laughter.

The girl got up. With reddened cheeks and teary eyes, she pointed her index finger at Chris and blamed him for the fall. If he hadn’t come so suddenly, it wouldn’t have scared the bird and she wouldn’t have lost her balance at the same time. In her eyes, it was all Chris’ fault.

But his brows knitted underneath his horned helmet when he saw what he saw. He couldn't believe it. The wounds and scratches she sustained from that fall healed in an instant; not even a single mark left on her fair skin. It was vague, but he felt like he got a glimpse of her pupils glowing the color of a red wine too.

The girl left Chris like a whirlwind after complaining for a full minute. His thoughts then swirled into that dangerous area. Could it be that he found his warlock? And so soon? But that human girl, who seemed like she was no older than seventeen, was dressed in a priestess robe and she wore a small carving of Marrieta around her neck.

He didn’t want to jump into conclusions, without as much as a single proof, so Chris decided to investigate. He visited the library underneath the cathedral where he did his research.

But two days around books and Chris found nothing in regards to that instantaneous healing magic. So, in his pursuit of knowledge, he asked the head priest, describing what he saw in detail while leaving out bits and pieces of information about his mysterious girl.

The head priest answered with a shook of his head, but redirected his search into forbidden tomes. Chris, without as much as removing his armor, delved into his research that instant. As if possessed, he was so absorbed that he forgot his duties. But he didn’t care. If word gets out, that particular place would be the target of a large scale liquidation. There would be no survivors. He knew the system long enough that he grew sick of it.

After about eight days in the underground library, Chris obtained results: Time magic.

Whether she was conscious of it or not, what she did was revert her own body clock. That explained why even the blood that trickled down on her own cheek wormed its way back on her forehead.

But how? Chris was missing something.

Half-breeds weren’t uncommon, but there hasn’t been a record of those not inheriting a demon’s genes. The demon’s blood is so strong that it overwhelms the other; thus most half-breeds conceived would only retain a demon’s characteristics.

Chris further pondered his head for answers. Then, as if a giant wrecking ball hit him straight in the face, Chris remembered: the sight of her pupils turning crimson was not his imagination.

Shocked at the answers he unraveled, Chris weighed his options. Did the head priest knew? What about the other clerics?

As Marrieta’s Exquisitor and as a Celestian knight, Chris had a responsibility to uphold, and by not doing so would betray his family doctrine. Yet Chris concluded in his mind that it was still too early, so he moved on to observing the girl instead.

Famed for being a sloth, Lilia was a simple cleric who wiped Marrieta’s statue every morning. Although she would go about her days shirking her duties, she adored Marrieta like any other, for her servitude in the church gave her meaning in life. It was her way of saying thanks to the kind people who accepted her in when her parents decided to forgo their responsibilities and dump her there. Nonetheless she didn’t held any grudges. She considered herself fortunate, even though the head priest would give her an earful each time she displayed her inappropriate behaviors.

One regular afternoon, a certain occurrence further strengthened his doubts. Leaves flew in the air and flowers bloomed on top of the neatly trimmed grass while the girl was humming a song.

That was all the proof he needed; Chris immediately questioned the head priest.

The old priest prostrated himself, in front of Marrieta’s statue, and admitted to his sin. He knew this decisive moment would come the moment an Exquisitor stepped foot in their cathedral, but they couldn’t just cast the poor child away. Even some of the older clerics supported his decision. They all knelt on the smooth marble floors and begged Chris to reconsider.

Conflicting feelings fought in his heart. Generations after generations, his family had faithfully served the Celestians and acted as their swords and shields. He was no different.

But Chris knew that these people did nothing wrong. And to choose one over the other would devastate him. The head priest, after all, stayed true to his faith. He could’ve easily hid the girl from his sight while he was there, yet he chose not to. He believed in him.

His duty, his family pride, or his own principles? Which weighed more than the other? Chris was lost on what to do. He closed his eyes and recalled—

‘Follow your own justice.’

There was no need for him to doubt, no need to hesitate, for a Schweitzer would walk no other.

He repeated the words in his head like a chant.

After a moment in silence, Chris made his decision.

“We did not have this conversation,” Chris solemnly said before raising his sword up in the air. “Second…” He channeled his energy into his weapon. In one swift downward slash, it released a vibration that shattered the windows and toppled the chairs, ruining the cathedral’s interior.

“A heretic of an unknown origin violated this temple. I, Christopher N. Schweitzer, apprehended and killed him on the spot. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” was the grateful reply of the head priest.

His actions shifted the gears, and from then on he knew, that there was no turning back.