"Ahhh…"
Tom's body slackened against the chair as he let go of what he had been reading.
Why do these things have to be so 'secret'?
I just wish I could look it up on the internet and find the answer.
Tilting his head back, eyes squeezed shut, his frustration was unmistakable.
Everything he had found so far was just theoretical guidance on how to assemble a ritual, without any real clue on how one would actually speak to a god.
So that's where the 'critique' Ruzz mentioned comes in?
Back on Earth, Tom had never been much of a reader. And although he had been devouring books during the past two weeks in Yunoahr, forcing a new habit out of necessity was wearing him down — perhaps faster than he would have liked.
Returning to the page he had left off on, the lighting in the library suddenly shifted. What had once been a faint yellow glow from oil lamps deepened into a vivid crimson hue, signaling that night had truly fallen.
Looking out the window, only the moon remained in the sky.
"You know what… enough. That's it for today."
With a flick of his hand, the pages flipped shut forcefully.
He left the book where he had taken it from and didn't even bother greeting Ruzz on his way out.
Outside, the street signs glowed in that same crimson tone, illuminating the roads like lampposts — clearly powered by magic.
Vampires really are obsessed with blood… why does everything for them have to be red, gray, and black?
Without wasting time, he approached a carriage and signaled to the driver, who nodded in response.
"To the Cathedral of the Blind."
"Yes, sir."
Internally, Tom had already planned this while reading. To avoid exposing himself further as a mercenary, he would take a carriage to a nearby location and complete the rest of the journey on foot.
Choosing the Cathedral of the Blind was also intentional. He hoped to speak with Father Abel if the mass had already ended. It wasn't something he was particularly eager to do, but given that he might be reaching the limits of what ordinary books could teach him about magic, Superiors, and Ascendants, talking to the priest might be the fastest way forward.
There was also the option of seeking out Mister Yuki, as Snow and Akeno had mentioned. However, they had also said he was extremely busy and rarely appeared at the Moonlight squad's headquarters. Tom doubted he would show up just because he asked. Given how unlikely that was, the cathedral seemed like the more viable option.
From inside the carriage, watching the city pass by, Tom began reflecting on his current situation and questioning the so-called game of gods.
From what he understood so far, Superiors could observe the mortal world and interfere in battles involving their Ascendants. However, he had no clear idea of how extensive that observation was, or how far a god's interference could go.
Are they limited somehow?
Because if they're far more powerful than humans or vampires, what's stopping them from doing whatever they want with mortals? Is there some force holding them back? Or did they make some kind of pact among themselves not to interfere too much?
A memory surfaced in his mind, making him consider a hypothesis but with no way to prove it, he let it go.
Still lost in thought, Tom suddenly felt a gaze on him. He turned to the carriage window.
He didn't have to search long.
Two figures stood in the distance, watching him.
Both wore white formal clothing, standing out against the street. What was even stranger was that both had black blindfolds covering their eyes, and yet their heads subtly followed the movement of the carriage, making it obvious that somehow… they could still see.
Realizing he was being watched, Tom forced himself to act normal, pulling his gaze away from the window and settling back into his seat.
Is it just coincidence that they're right behind me? Or did they just glance at another carriage passing by?
The ride dragged on longer than he liked, until finally the horse neighed and the wheels came to a halt.
After thanking the driver, Tom handed over a few bronze coins.
He hadn't even taken a dozen steps before a chill ran down his spine at the sight ahead.
"Shit."
He muttered it quietly, just enough not to be heard.
The street was nearly deserted.
Except for the same two figures in white formal attire and black blindfolds, now turning the corner — heading directly toward the path Tom would need to take to return to Moonlight HQ.
They're definitely following me…
But how did they get here so fast?!
With no time to think, and seeing them approaching at a steady pace, Tom crossed the street.
On the other side stood a towering cathedral built of limestone and granite — the original destination of his ride.
The Cathedral of the Blind.
Its massive doors were wide open, revealing a distant empty pulpit surrounded by countless candles, which, this time, emitted no light.
A handful of faithful occupied the pews. Some kneeling, others silently reading sacred texts.
There were also two additional groups. One was gathered before a magnificent white marble statue depicting a figure draped entirely in a grand veil, making its gender impossible to discern. Its head was lowered, and one hand raised a gleaming golden scale.
The Blind One. Tom concluded instantly.
Stopping just inside the cathedral doors, Tom slipped his hands into his pockets and discreetly pressed his left middle and index fingers together twice, leaving behind a glowing mark shaped like an eye with a luminous pupil.
His plan was simple.
Enter as just another believer and at least appear to participate in the mass. If the blindfolded duo followed him inside, he would activate the mark and teleport back to the entrance, gaining enough of a lead to escape.
From experience, neither Malivor nor Snow had been able to see his teleportation marks. So now, all he could do was hope these two couldn't either.
Following through, Tom took a seat in the second-to-last pew. After a quick glance behind him — and seeing no one — he clasped his hands together, fingers interlocked, pretending to pray.
Maybe he actually did pray, in a way.
Just not to the Blind One.
Opening his eyes, he noticed where the second group of standing faithful was gathered. To the right side of the cathedral, a line of people moved toward a rectangular wooden structure with a narrow slit in its door.
That's it.
Taking his place at the end of the line, Tom felt cold sweat as seconds stretched into minutes. One by one, people entered and exited the wooden structure he was certain was a confessional booth.
He glanced back several times but saw no sign of the duo entering the cathedral.
That raised another concern.
If they didn't come inside, his teleportation escape plan wouldn't work. In the worst case, they might be waiting right outside the doors and catch him the moment he reappeared.
He cursed himself for not leaving a mark back at the HQ. That would have made things much easier now.
At last, the confessional door opened.
No one stood ahead of him anymore. It was his turn.
Inside, there was just enough space for one person. A grayish-white cushion lay on the floor, where Tom knelt.
In front of him, a simple wooden lattice was covered by a curtain, preventing either side from seeing the other.
"Father, I need to confess."
"What burdens your heart? Speak, for yourself and for the Lord. I'm just an intermediary."
The voice on the other side was calm and patient.
Lowering his head and taking a deep breath, Tom began.
"Father, I'm being followed by two people wearing white formal clothes and blindfolds."
"Say two prayers of justice and calm yourself, then—"
"No, Father, you don't understand. I think I need your help. I…"
Tom pressed two fingers to his forehead, swallowing before continuing.
"I was looking into divine channeling rituals. And I don't know if it's coincidence or bad luck, but right after I left, that duo started following me."
Silence fell over the confessional.
A full minute passed.
Tom even called out to the priest a few times, but got no response.
Meanwhile, he kept his right hand ready, fingers extended, prepared to activate his teleportation mark at any moment.
After nearly two minutes, the previously gentle voice returned — firmer now.
"I need you to be completely honest with me. Otherwise, it will be difficult to help you. Are you, or are you trying to become, an Ascendant?"
"Yes."
Tom answered directly, without specifying which.
"Wait… this reminds me."
The curtain was suddenly pulled aside, revealing a middle-aged man with short brown hair and olive-green eyes.
Father Abel.
Tom was genuinely surprised the priest remembered him.
"You're the young man I recommended the Golden Bread bakery to. I just don't know your name—you never told me."
"Yeah… it's Tom. And by the way, Golden Bread was closed that day. Still is."
"Is that so? That's unfortunate."
He paused briefly.
"But Tom, about being followed… as you can see, I'm in the middle of a mass. There's not much I can do right now. Do not fear those who follow you. Continue on your path, and if they approach you, speak with them and find out what they want."
"When you can, come see me in the morning. Then we can talk properly, and I'll help you obtain a god's key and become His Ascendant."
Tom considered correcting him but decided against it.
"Do you know who's following me?"
"Perhaps."
The answer was vague.
"Now, if you don't mind, I must attend to the other faithful before returning to the pulpit."
"Right… of course. Thank you, Father."
"Walk always in the path of balance, young man." Now, as he bid him farewell, the priest voice returned to its calm and irreproachable tone.
With steadier breathing, Tom stood and left the confessional.
Passing by the devoted followers, he reached the cathedral doors.
Contrary to his expectations no one was there.
Gradually picking up his pace, he turned the corner toward the next street.
Almost back at HQ.
"Tom!"
His body froze.
He couldn't deny it, the moment he heard his name, a chill ran through him.
Turning toward the voice — there they were.
A man and a woman.
The man tall, the woman around 1.70 meters.
Both wore pristine white formal attire — vests and trousers that spoke of wealth and refinement. Matching white top hats completed their look. And over their eyes those same black blindfolds.
"Yes?"
"We would like you to accompany us for a moment, so we may speak in a more suitable place. I assure you, it will be in your interest."
The woman spoke first.
Before Tom could respond, the man lowered his arm and clenched his fist. Golden markings spread along his sleeve.
The space around them warped, blurring into an illusion-like distortion—
Shhhhuuup
Everything that had been deformed now seemed to be returned to its place continuously and quickly. Returning to normal and to the same place where they had been conversing just moments before.
All three —Tom, the woman, and the man — looked at each other in confusion.
Until they realized that the number of people present was no longer odd, but even. A fourth person put their hand on Tom's shoulder.
The newcomer towered over him slightly, wearing a purple shirt. His emerald eyes were sharp, his brown hair messy.
"Ma—"
"I was looking for you. Let's go."
All eyes turned to him.
The man in white reached inside his vest, only to be stopped by his partner, who raised her arm in front of him.
They watched silently as the two young men walked away.
"Malivor Begger."
She lowered her hand.
"Gianni, why did you stop me?"
"Brother… have you completely lost your mind? Were you really about to fight two Ascendants at once?"
Pfft. He clicked his tongue but said nothing more.
Gianni shook her head.
"Tom… there's something different about him. If it weren't for the master's hypotheses and the information that tavern keeper Snow gave us, I would never guess he's an Ascendant."
"Tch. Even with hod perception, I can't feel anything from him. But that damn Malivor… his energy is heavy. Strong."
She grabbed his wrist.
"Yes. But for now… just get us out of here."