Chapter 27: Odd Tension

The inn’s hot spring can be found indoors. In an enormous cubicle room housed many relaxing customers who enjoyed the sensation of a warm and comfortable cuddle. Their bodies slipped into the hot spring, and the water holds them ever so softly. Any muscle ache was massaged away, so gently and subtlety, by the comfort of the hot spring’s water. On all of their faces was pure bliss. The fake plants and palm trees on the outskirt of the hot spring enhanced the feeling of a summer getaway. The top half of the eastern wall was made of transparent glass for the sun and moon to shine its radiance and breathe life into the hot spring. This hot spring was indoors, but much attention to detail was paid for it to have an outside vibe.

Gratt and Harrock sat in one of the many ponds available. Harrock’s nakedness let off a more veteran and aged appearance. And Gratt’s body, in contrast, was like a newborn baby. His baby-smooth skin and incredibly fit body attracted Harrock’s envious gaze.

“Ah, what it means to be young.” Harrock sighed. “My wrinkly skin is no match for you, and one day they’ll start to sag. I hope I can find a wife soon, and maybe settle down somewhere.”

“I can’t ever see you settling down.” Gratt dipped his head back to submerge all of his hair into the water. “I can’t ever see you getting a wife, either. Must be hard to be you.”

“Ah, you prick.” Harrock raised his hand in the air in a threatening manner, then laughed. “We don’t get all the things we want in life, but that let us appreciate what we have even more. Just because we don’t have it, doesn’t mean we should stop trying to get it.”

“Harrock…” Gratt uttered.

“Yes?” Harrock looked at Gratt’s face.

“Have you ever wonder if the people you know aren’t who you think they are?” Gratt asked. “Like, somehow, learning something about them will change them forever.”

Harrock noticed Gratt was in pain, but this isn’t something he can fix by going to the doctor. He knew all too well about the challenges one experience in life. Looking at Gratt didn’t make it any easier to speak up. That desperateness to chase after an answer with no lead to go on resonated within his soul.

“Everyone has things they don’t want to talk about or things they want to hide.” Harrock said. “And that’s ok. I don’t want you to learn all about my dirty secrets; your opinion of me may even become lower than before. But those dirty secrets don’t change who they are. It’s a part of what made them who they are in the first place. At the very least talk to them about it before you decide to part ways with them.”

“Talk to them…” Gratt sighed. “It’s talking to them that’s the scary part.”

“What are you scared of?” Harrock asked. “If they do anything to threaten you, then part ways.”

“That’s the scariest part.” Gratt said. “Parting ways.”

“Ah.” Harrock massaged his forehead. “I can’t believe this person here is actually a warrior. Listen, if you’re really caught up about this, then tackle it head-on. Confront whomever you need to talk to and get it over with. Don’t let it eat away at your life.”

Gratt sink his head half-way into the water, gloomy and disheartened. To tackle things head-on requires a lot of courage, and that was a trait he felt severely lacking lately. Even more so, all the recent events had him drained; the amount of energy required to confront a person wasn’t there. To sit in this hot spring was a bliss he wish would never leave him.

“Hey.” Harrock called. “Cheer up. What kind of face is that to have around your guildmates? If you want to sit next to your brother in the ranks, then molding your outward appearance is important. Hell, people will latch onto the slightest weakness if you let them. …Everyone has a limit, Gratt. Is this yours?”

“The goal is to have my brother succeed the guild leader, and I’ll be his right-hand man.” Gratt sighed. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

Gratt dipped his head into the steaming water once more, and jumped out of with flying colors. He slapped both of his cheeks and shake his head like a dog drying itself. Gratt slapped his cheeks once more and let out a mighty roar.

“I can’t let things get me down.” Gratt pumped himself up. “Tackle it on, face first, like a warrior!”

“It’s not an easy life.” Harrock mentioned. “But it’s up to you to make the best out of it.”

Gratt nodded and waved his hand. He thanked the old-timer and marched onwards out of here. Morr bumped into Gratt along the way, and noticed his more cheerful appearance. Before Morr could even say a word, Gratt immediately commented on Morr’s odd appearance. The towel around his waist was the norm, but the towel wrapped around his cape like a scarf certainly draw attention. However, the most captivating part was the body-riddled scars that Morr had. Gratt quickly caught himself before his stare became obvious and bid him adieu before merrily going on his way.

“He sure looks happy.” Morr chuckled, and searched for an empty bathing spot.

***

Priscilla stared at three royal-blue plastic cards in her hand. Laying on her bed, she thought back to how hard they worked to fill the bag to the brim. All of their effort in Mileth Crypt culminated into a grin that she couldn’t get rid of. Just thinking about the amount of money the vendor spent on the bag of items chimed a lovely bell in her heart. The total amount split into three didn’t seem like much afterwards, but this was there big hunt -- their first real hunt -- and she couldn’t be any prouder of her teammates.

“Happy?” Pontiff flipped through a page of a book titled Pursuit of Happiness.

“Yeah! What’s there to not be happy about?” Priscilla threw her hands into the air and cheered. “We got our first payment, and we’re about to get more from Atlantis’ quest. Being rich doesn’t seem like such an impossible dream anymore.”

“You dream of being rich?” Pontiff flipped through another page.

“Sure, I mean, doesn’t everyone?” Priscilla’s gaze fell back onto the plastic cards in her hand. “Money is important.”

“It’s important, but to dream about it?” Pontiff shook his head at the passages he read. “Don’t people usually dream about something bigger?”

“Well, sorry for having my eyes set so low.” Priscilla pouted. “It’d be nice if I didn’t have to worry about rent or paying for food. I’m sure the Temple of Glioca’s hospitality must be nice.”

“Sure is.” Pontiff commented. “Free lodging, breakfast, and dinner for being a temporary doctor. Other than the noisy patients, constant complaints of how uncaring I am, and the daily hisses... I don’t have much to say. As long as the real physicians are busy with the war, I should be fine for the time being.”

“‘For the time being,’ huh?” Priscilla pondered. “It’d be nice if everything goes smoothly for us.”

"Keep improving your magic. As long as we're all healthy and don't bite off more than we can chew, we should be fine." Pontiff reassured. “After all the trouble we’ve been through, I didn’t think they would let us be this free. Maybe Mileth really can keep the Church away."

Priscilla inquisitively looked at Pontiff. The sudden thought of her magic came to mind. She knew the fundamentals of magic and the dynamics between nature, invocation, and mana, but a piqued thought came to mind: Healing magic. After the near-death battle with the Marauder, the healers that came with them refused to heal Morr. But not because they didn't want to, rather it sounded more like the result would be futile.

"By the way, how does healing magic, or priest's magic work?" Priscilla asked. "There was a time when a few priests refused to help Morr, and that's when I brought him to you. Was his condition too severe for healing magic?"

"I'm not sure; it's still something I'm figuring out." Pontiff answered. "At the time with Morr, I didn't use any healing magic on him."

"Oh." Priscilla's inquisitive look transitioned halfway between a smile and a frown to hide her disappointment.

"I can't really tell you why they refuse to help, but I can tell you what I know so far." Pontiff placed his book down and turned to Priscilla.

Priscilla rapidly nod her head with eagerness. The frown quickly disappeared and she kicked into study mode.

"Although this is the basics... it's still a broad topic to discuss." Pontiff rested his chin onto his hand, thinking of a way to compress the knowledge he gathered so far. "The magic that you used when we fought in Mileth Crypt derived from the Tuatha de Cormier, right?"

Priscilla pinched her forehead at the sound of their name. "Yeah. It’s the only old language I’ve learned so far."

Three knocks resounded from the other side of the door, followed by, “It’s Morr.”

Priscilla instructed that the door was unlock.

Morr entered the room with his tattered apparel underneath his black cape. His half-dry black hair shot towards the roof, defying gravity. There wasn’t anything to dirty his skin anymore, but because of his dirtied outfit his appearance didn’t seem to be renew.

“Where’s Gratt?” Priscilla noticed a missing person from their group of four.

“We’ve met in the hot spring… and he just left.” Morr informed. “He seemed rather happy as he left.”

“That’s good.” Priscilla gestured Morr to sit anywhere he liked. “I wonder what happen that made him so odd. He was more energetic when we were hunting… but then, he’s like a different person. Do you really not know what happened to him?”

“I don’t, really.” Other than the spaces available on the bed or the occupied chair by the desk, there weren’t many places to sit, so Morr just sat down in front of the door.

“I see… well, what really matters is that he’s in a good mood now.” Priscilla turned to Pontiff, both ears perked. “So… go on.”

“Mmm.” Pontiff nodded. “The magic system derived from the Tuatha de Cormier seems to be what my path is using as well. The potency of a healing spell is intrinsically tied to the words evoked. Beag Ioc, for example, is a spell I think all beginners in this path knows. Ioc is the healing spell and beag is a modifier. Beag Ioc, as a spell, the most it can do is close cut shallow wounds, from my experience.”

Priscilla expressed her understanding. “So even if a hundred of priests cast Beag Ioc, it would’ve done nothing… right?”

“His condition was much, much worse than a hundred cuts, so yes, it would’ve done very little to save him.” Pontiff affirmed. “It’ll be like if you cast your wind spell. You won’t get a stronger version of that spell; it’ll be the same done a hundred times.”

“I get what you’re saying.” Priscilla glanced over at Morr whom nodded as if he was able to follow along with their discussion. “…Did you get any of that?”

“Not really.” Morr laughed. “It’s a great feeling to know smart people, though.”

“It’s just a kind of specialize knowledge.” Priscilla passed Pontiff and Morr one of the royal blue cards in her hand and sat back down onto the bed. “But today is the day we get paid! So let’s celebrate!”

“Oh.” Pontiff tried his hardest to sound enthused. “How much do we get?”

“All the money a newbie haggler could earn!” Priscilla exclaimed. “It’s not much, but for now this is all we got.”

“So….” Pontiff briefly looked at the card and pocketed it. “How much do we get?”

“The total was big, but we had to split it three ways… so… just find out for yourselves!” Priscilla raised her royal blue card high into the air. “Now, let’s celebrate! Everything’s on me!”

“Party? At this hour?” Pontiff asked. “We just got done partying a few hours ago.”

“Not that kind, you dolt.” Priscilla smiled. “Let’s have fun, eat good food, and drink good drinks!”

“Sorry, I’m siding with Pontiff on this one.” Morr spread his arms and legs wide on the ground, staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until I got out of the hot spring.”

“Sorry if you guys misunderstood, but I wasn’t asking whether or not you guys want to party.” Priscilla got off the bed and head for the door. “I’ll go buy some food and drinks from the inn. Just wait for me.”

Morr chuckled at her abrasiveness as she left the room.

“You should catch up with her.” Pontiff suggested. “Wouldn’t want her to come back with a bunch of food only she likes.”

“Maybe if I was in another reality where I could feel my legs, I would.” Morr kicked his legs into the air and massaged up and down.

“That tired?” Pontiff closed his book, rested it on top of the desk, and looked at Morr. “How has your body been holding up?”

Morr shook his head. “I’ve been relying on my chakra to cover basic motions and anything that involves movement. But as far as feeling my arms and legs… it’s progressing slowly. I can’t feel the slightest nudge. It’s only during times like this that I really know my body.”

And with an honest reply, he felt an annoyed aura escaping from Pontiff. Morr quickly apologized for all hard work he’s loaded onto Pontiff. All the labor, supplies, and equipment incurred from his reckless activity would obviously cost money. Money that he wanted to pay back as soon as possible.

However, that wasn’t what Pontiff was annoyed at. Seeing Morr quickly turned apologetic made Pontiff cleared the misunderstanding. Pontiff glanced at the book on the desk and felt even more annoyed.

“Really, if only Dr. Mav was here… He may be able to do something about your condition.” Pontiff sighed. “I’ve been shadowing Dr. Mav for a while, but my knowledge is nowhere on par with his. I still don’t quite fully understand how you’re able to move, let alone Priscilla’s condition.”

“It’s fine.” Morr insisted. “Really, take your time. I’m just glad you’ve been helping me out. Don’t think for a second that all of this is for free. Name a price, anything.”

“Oh. How generous. 100,000 gold coins, please.” Pontiff held out his hand as if he’s ready to take the money at a moment’s notice.

Morr wanted to laugh and cry. It was too difficult to tell whether Pontiff was joking or not. The gesture of his hand and his immovable facial muscles was so convincing that it would be harder to believe he was jesting. Add on to the fact that Morr is already having trouble paying off his current debt, he certainly didn’t want to walk into another one so soon. Nevertheless, he accepted the term.

“Really…” Pontiff shook his head. “I’m beginning to wonder if the Church took both yours and Priscilla’s ability to sense humor.”

Priscilla walked in with bags hanging on both of her stilled arms. After closing the door, she relaxed her arms and the bags naturally fell to the floor in front of the door. She picked out two bottles of water and lobbed it at Pontiff and Morr. They easily caught the bottles of water and thanked her.

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Priscilla asked Morr. She then proceeded to toss a bag of potato chips without waiting for an answer.

“Thanks.” Morr expressed his gratitude. “So what was the important thing you wanted to talk about?”

Priscilla looked at Pontiff, whom nodded to give her the green light.

“We’re going hunting. The biggest hunt we’ve ever done. Even bigger than that monster on the 5th floor.” Priscilla turned her hand to show a white symbol that belonged to the Atlantis guild. “And the reward… 100,000 gold coins!”

Morr looked at Pontiff and did a double take.

“Sounds good, doesn’t it?” Priscilla grinned. “All we have to do is capture a Priestess of Sgrios and exchange them for the reward. The problem is the criminal we’re looking for is the same target everyone out there is searching for. It has been some time since the start of the quest, but we still don’t know how to approach this.”

“One quest for 100,000 gold coins looks too good to be true.” Morr commented. “If everyone in this inn searches for the target, then our chances are low as well. But that’s not all I’m worried about…”

“Even if our chances are below 1% I still want us to try and do this.” Priscilla adamantly held her position.

“It’s not just everyone in this inn.” Pontiff said. “If we account everyone in this inn, then we also have to account for the possibility that everyone in this inn invites their friends, families, or guildmates. The more we try to think of this realistically, the lower our chances appears. The quest started hours ago, and the news has probably attracted all of Mileth’s attention.”

“Everyone may be searching ahead of us, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be able to find and capture the target.” Priscilla said.

“What makes you think we can capture the target?” Morr asked.

“Because we will.” Priscilla smiled. “It’s as simple as that.”

“You sure are optimistic.” Pontiff commented.

“We just need to find them, somehow.” Priscilla sighed. “I’m starting to lean towards the option of searching everywhere in Mileth.”

“What does the target even look like?” Morr inquired.

“We’ve been told that the target is dressed in the uniform of a Priestess of Sgrios.” Priscilla answered. “Something like a dark attire and the Scar of Sgrios, from what we’ve been told.”

“The Scar of Sgrios?” Morr indifferently asked.

“Sgrios is the God of Death, so something like a skull would symbolize his mark.” Pontiff said. “I think.”

“A skull…” Morr’s eyes went wide as he reflexively grabbed his forearm. He looked down, bewildered as to why his body subconsciously moved. A sharp pain rummaged through his mind, and his expression went bleak. The immense pain was only combated by the captivating experience of his memory unlocking.

Pontiff noticed the sudden change, and so did Priscilla. They looked at each other, confused, and then fixed their gaze onto Morr.

“What’s wrong?” Pontiff asked.

“…What does a Scar of Sgrios mean?” Morr asked, trying his best to hide an unnerving expression.

“From the theology classes I’ve attended, the Scar of Sgrios is given to a prospect after an initiation rite. Right, Pontiff?” Priscilla looked at Pontiff for reaffirmation.

Pontiff shrugged. “I’m still researching the different faiths, but from what I learned about the Scar of Sgrios it’s that it’s a curse. Lord Sgrios bestows a curse onto its worshippers, and the curse results into decay. People say that your body will progressively rot until death, and your body will be reanimated into a skeletal servant of Lord Sgrios. This is what I’ve heard; I don’t really know.”

“So, how do you stop it?” Morr asked.

Their gazes gravitated towards the clenching on Morr’s arm. Something wasn’t right. They were certain something was wrong with him, but he had this permeating aura that made them reluctant to even ask. The tension suddenly took a turn towards a direction they didn’t expect. Pontiff looked towards Priscilla for a clue as to how to combat this type of situation, but she did the same.

“How do you stop it?” Morr asked once more.

“Something like destroying the source… perhaps.” Pontiff answered.

“Hey…” Priscilla worriedly call out. “Is something wrong?”

Morr walked towards the door, leaving behind his unopened bag of potato chips. They called out to him, but he responded with a distant, repelling gaze. It wasn’t explicit, but they clearly heard him saying ‘Don’t follow me.’

“Abandon the quest.” Morr warned, before exiting through the door.

***

Dr. Mav laid curled in the corner of a difficult, hard-to-see cell. Its unkemptness was hard to miss; pieces of cotton around a battle-wound mattress occupied most of the scarce space, a bucket just off the opposite corner permeated an unwanted scent, and many rough stones scattered the ground for a rude awakening. None of them troubled Dr. Mav as he dug his head into his arms.

Thinking back to pasts events with the Church of Salvation resurged fond and upsetting memories. Did the ethicist inside made the right decisions? How many people did he saved? How many people could he have saved?

He clutched his hands.

“Was this all I was capable of?” His fingers squeezed tighter till the strengths within fade. “…I wonder how those kids are doing.”

The hallway connected to his cell echoed the eager sounds of ringing keychains and footsteps.

Dr. Mav jumped to his feet and pressed his face against the bars that gave him the best view towards the sound. The light source in the hallway revealed the clear toll his face took from the time spent in here.

Expectedly, a Mileth Guard came in view. It was Guard Crol in his uniform.

Just as Dr. Mav was about to send a greeting, he cut his breathe at the sight of a second company. It was a company he never imagined he’d meet down here.

“Mav.” Guard Crol nodded.

“CROL!” Mav shouted with an unquenched angered. He called Crol’s name, but his attention was undividedly directed at the person next to Guard Crol. “What the hell is going on!?”

The man accompanying Guard Crol rested a hand onto Crol’s shoulder. “Doctors seem to always know best for our health, yet they never look the part.”

A bald skin head with a cross-shaped scar at his forehead was all it took to raise Dr. Mav’s alert to the utmost.

“How do you do, Mav?” The man asked.

“What are you doing here!?” Crol clenched the bars with the intention to break.

“We let three chicks fly for a bit.” The man answered in an unreciprocated manner. “They never flew before, so I was worried about their well-being. Also, I wanted to see you.”

Dr. Mav released his grip and unleashed a kick with all his might at the only thing between him and the man. The metal bars shuddered lightly.

“Screw you!” Dr. Mav clenched his teeth.

“Mav.” Guard Crol called.

“Can you afford to break those?” The scarred man asked. “I heard you used up all the money we gave you.”

“Crol.” Dr. Mav gave an intense glare before turning to Guard Crol. “What is going on?”

“Hegel received special permission from the Burgess.” Guard Crol reported. “Sorry.”

“The Burgess!?” Dr. Mav knees grew weak, defeated by the word ‘Burgess’. His head hung low, thinking that guaranteed safety by the city may no longer be a thing soon.

“I wanted to see if that look on your face change since the day we accepted you.” Hegel stared at Mav with pitiful eyes. “For someone so deprave and unguided to turn their backs on the people who supported him…”

“He may have special permission to enter Mileth, but I won’t let him out of my sight.” Guard Crol consoled. “He can’t possibly be foolish enough to do something on limited privilege.”

“What you think I’m here to do and what you think you can do to stop it is meaningless.” Hegel held one last look at the man trapped behind bars, and walked off. “Was this the salvation you seek, Mav?”

“No... Get them out…” Dr. Mav softly pleaded.

“I won’t let him touch them.” Guard Crol tried his best to convincingly guarantee their safety. “He doesn’t have the right--“

Mav pressed his face against the bars and, unwaveringly, looked directly into Crol’s eyes. “Get. Them. Out. Of. Here.”