Seconds passed in silence, a moment I used to look around, noticing the various eyes of the expedition staring at me as we continued our journey on the dirt road.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't come up with an excuse. After everything I'd done, what would be the point? The stories would spread to the rest of Kazdel eventually. With no other options, I sighed, running my hands through my hair before answering.
"Please, let's be civilized and…"
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
"SINCE WHEN CAN YOU DO THAT?!"
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
"HOW DO YOUR ARTS WORK?!"
"ARE YOU A SAINT?!"
I clenched my teeth, shuddering at each agitated shout directed at me. No matter how many times it happened, I don't think I'll ever get used to being the center of attention. The barrage of questions continued, at the same pace as my patience dwindled.
"IF YOU SHUT UP, I WILL BE ABLE TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS!"
My booming voice reverberated through the area, causing some to flinch at the volume, but it had the desired effect of giving me a few moments of peace to think.
"I have possessed my healing arts for a long time, but I recently discovered that they were capable of healing Oripathy to a certain extent; before that, I only used them to heal battle wounds. As some of you may know, I lost my memories, but the most likely story is that I am a merchant and caster of Sargon who somehow ended up in Kazdel during my travels. I will not reveal the secrets of my arts to anyone, but know that I am studying Oripathy and a possible way to cure it completely, and no, I am not a saint, far from it, I am just a human. Any more questions?"
I immediately regretted uttering those last words, as I was bombarded with a barrage of questions, turning the already long journey into a tedious process.
-XXXXXX-
"...And then, while studying Originium slugs, I discovered that they are not immune to infection, but have adapted to the ore over time, which becomes inactive in their bodies. However, if it becomes active again, say due to exposure to energy sources or extreme agitation, the slug may die from the infection spreading through its body, turning into a statue and exploding like any infected…"
Time passed, and we set up camp for lunch and to let the beasts rest. Around me, everyone listened to my explanation with a bowl of food in hand (probably cold now), that is, when they weren't taking notes or asking occasional questions.
"...Therefore, I am working on two ways to try to mitigate the disease while I don't find a cure, modifying some of my arts and artifacts. Does anyone here know what a Basilisk is?"
I received several negative shakes of the head, so I removed the Ash Knuckle Ring from my bag, showing it to everyone.
"During one of my travels, I encountered creatures resembling large lizards with comically large false eyes on top of their heads. Physically, they are not dangerous, but they possess a dangerous ability: to spit gas capable of petrifying their victims…"
The sighs, surprised faces, and nervous glances I received were understandable; after all, such an end resembled that of the infected. I removed my notebook from my bag, opened it to the page with the drawing of a basilisk, and handed it to Warfarin, who frowned and muttered something before passing the object to Sarkaz beside her, who did the same immediately afterward.
"...The ring I'm holding was enchanted with arts to increase an individual's resistance against petrification. I intend to replicate it with modifications to combat Oripathy, suppressing the disease in the infected and making the uninfected resistant to it; however, I wasn't the one who enchanted the ring, and its owner left long ago, so I'm trying to understand someone else's work without any clues…"
Not to mention, of course, that this is the weakest version of the ring.
"...Another way to help would be by draining the Originum's energy in the body, rendering it inactive and preventing the infection from spreading further. I have an art that might do this if altered to drain only the ore's energy, but otherwise, it would be lethal to anyone nearby. So, that's my explanation, any questions?"
My book was returned, and I put it in my bag, then waited, but the camp was strangely silent.
"Does anyone else know about this? About your studies and the workings of the artifacts and arts, I mean." Buldrokkas'tee asked, his tone serious and his eyes sharp.
"No, only everyone present."
"So I suppose I don't need to tell everyone here to keep this secret with their lives, do I?"
His skull scanned the surroundings; the warriors stood firm and nodded with determination, while those without combat experience swallowed hard, sweating nervously, but agreeing nonetheless.
"It will take months for stories of your deeds to spread throughout Kazdel, and years across Terra, but that doesn't change the fact that the interests of people and nations will be captured, and depending on who it is, at the very least you will receive advantageous job offers, and in the worst case, foreign forces will invade in search of you, or people close to you, to use them as leverage. Was I clear?"
I didn't look away when he stared at me, I nodded, fully understanding the consequences of my actions. This was something I feared; I could face armies and return from the dead, but what about the people around me? This wasn't a devastated land full of monsters and powerful warriors; normal, good people would die if I wasn't careful.
"Great, there's something else I'd like to tell you. It would be better if you taught your arts and techniques to someone so that such valuable knowledge isn't lost forever. Life can be cruel; one accident is all it takes to end everything."
I fought back the urge to laugh at that last comment, but I agreed in the end. I can't go back now that I've given these people hope, but who would I choose to…
"COUGH! COUGH!"
A fake cough caught my attention, and there I saw Warfarin repeating her actions while failing to hide her smile and disguise the interest in her gaze. I remained silent, something she shared, and we stayed like that for a few moments, to the point of feeling awkward, considering the number of people watching us.
I sighed, removing the Cleric's Sacred Chime from my bag, handing it to Warfarin, and several religious books soon after, as well as pages of miracles.
"You'll need this; my healing arts are best channeled through chimes."
Her eyes widened and gleamed, and an exaggerated sigh escaped her smiling lips. She looked around, hand on her heart, and accepted the pure gold chime as if it were a treasure. And considering that such material still held value here, it very well could be.
"I-I don't know what to say, I never expected this, I'm honored that you chose me."
She spoke as if she had been granted a great honor. I, on the other hand, frowned, pure sarcasm in my face, gaze, and voice.
"Please, don't exaggerate. You've wanted to know more about my arts since the first time you saw them."
"You bet I do!"
There, in less than a second, her act vanished, giving way to the truly proud vampire.
"So, how are we going to begin? Are we going to discuss the biology of different races? Your studies on Oirignium? Medicinal plants? Or are we going straight to the practical and theoretical workings of your arts?"
Unfortunately, or fortunately, considering I would have the chance to elicit a precious reaction from her, I had to end her joy by placing the stack of books and papers beside us and opening a large tome in my lap with a heavy thud followed by a cloud of dust.
"Tell me, have you been praying lately?"
Her face immediately fell, replaced by one of pure confusion as I laughed internally, wishing for a way to keep that image forever.
"What?"
-XXXXXX-
"Is this serious?"
"It couldn't be more so."
"So you heal people with thoughts and prayers?"
"I suppose so. They work, don't they? Now, whether the gods mentioned exist is a different story."
They clearly exist in my world, but I'm not here to convert people and start a new religion, though perhaps I could, if I wish to spread the use of miracles throughout Kazdel.
Warfarin didn't answer and remained in the wagon beside me, reading a translation I'd made of a basic healing prayer, since miracles were in the language of my world, while holding the chime in her other hand, ringing it occasionally without results, much to her frustration.
"This is a waste of time."
"It will be, if you don't believe it."
"And what do you expect me to do? I'm not religious, so I find it hard to believe the story of a goddess who cries healing tears in mourning for those who died unjustly. You'd have better luck teaching a Lich or a Cyclops."
"And you wish to forgo the satisfaction of being the first to learn my miraculous arts?"
She didn't answer and muttered something, knowing full well but refusing to admit I was right.
"After all, who taught you these arts? They're in a language I've never seen before."
"It happened by chance; I met a nun who left her monastery to spread her arts throughout the world. She promised to teach me, for the right price, of course, but in reality she was a swindler who stole the knowledge from the monastery and disguised herself as one of its members to escape. That doesn't change the fact that the arts work."
I left out the part where she repeatedly tried to kill me as an invader, and that I ended up killing her in the end. I felt something bad in my chest when I remembered that; I truly appreciated her presence and teachings, but her betrayal left a mark.
"Oh, I'm so sorry about that."
"Don't worry, that was a long time ago."
Then our conversation continued, with me doing my best to explain how miracles worked and the stories behind them, but as long as Warfarin didn't truly believe, she would be unable to conjure them. I believe it would take a great display of power to convince her of the existence of the deities.
I admit I also felt some difficulty, as I had never taught anyone before, even less from the most basic level, having to explain concepts that would be common knowledge where I come from.
Time passed and the temperature noticeably decreased; a cold breeze blew past us, making some shiver. In the distance, we sighted the final destination of our expedition, in the territory of the Gargoyles, whose leader was a member of the royal court.
The Silver Mountains rose in the distance, tearing the sky with their snow-capped peaks shrouded in dark clouds. It is said that it was there that the First King of the Sarkaz found the Black Crown, just as the Sankta found the Law and left their people behind, separating at their origin.
I squinted at the sight of something dark on its peak, and removed my binoculars to try to see better. Something large was flying there.
-In the Distant Future-
There was a great cathedral in the capital of Kazdel, though great would be an understatement. Built by golems guarding its gates and gargoyles sleeping on its perches, the black and gold fortification was open to all who wished to learn the teachings of the gods, provided they met certain conditions, for spies from other nations and dangerously ambitious men were common.
Its interior was adorned down to the smallest detail, from the walls to the ceiling, from the stained glass windows to the candlesticks and candelabras lit by golden flames, with study rooms and libraries filled with knowledge developed over the years, derivations of the miracles brought by its founder, and techniques originating from the gods of Terra, from the Law to the Beast Lords.
There, men and women, mostly Sarkaz, traversed its interior, their clothing serving to identify their positions and functions. Currently, a priest served as a guide for the young people who had recently joined, their eyes marveling at every little thing they encountered.
The group was led to the main hall where several massive statues were located. Deities, the priest spoke, citing each one: Nehma, Goddess of Love, whose symbol is an Estus Flask. Caitha, Goddess of Tears, whose symbol is the Poison effect. Galib, God of Disease, whose symbol is the Curse effect. Kremmel, God of Struggle, whose symbol is a debuff. Evlana, Goddess of Hunting, whose symbol is an armament. Hanleth, Goddess of Happiness, whose symbol is a buff. Nahr Alma, God of Blood, whose symbol is the emblem of the Brotherhood of Blood. Zinder, God of Desire, whose symbol is a pig's head. Quella, Goddess of Dreams, whose symbol is the spirit tree. Caffrey, Goddess of Fortune, whose symbol is the icon of souls and coins. Zandroe, God of Greed. Faraam, God of War, and finally, the Old Dead, the Old Witch, and the Sun God.
However, in a secluded corner, there was a small statue of the humble saint, the one who started it all and refused to be placed on the level of the deities. Unknown to all, there was a message on the ground behind the statue, saying the following:
"For the last time, I am not a saint!"
END OF CHAPTER