Chapter LXXXIII

In front of him, the figure resembling Medishe makes Whit reconsider everything he knows about the Temple of Divine Trials. Are the trials here directly overseen by the goddess?

In the silence that follows, Nero’s amused voice breaks through. “Dude, why are you kneeling? There’s no need for that.”

As Whit tries to process what he’s just seen and what Nero said, he stands staring open-mouthed at the smiling mage a little further ahead of him. Then a new voice speaks.

“This time he’s really going to get us all killed.” This makes Whit turn toward Adar, who has just spoken. The young man is shaking his head and, though not kneeling, looks weak at the knees.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Adar. He must know what he’s doing,” says Seres, brimming with confidence.

“I asked: what are you doing here?” interrupts ‘Medishe,’ sounding more irritated at the lack of an answer.

“Hey, calm down,” replies Nero in a firmer tone. To their shock and disbelief, even the figure in front of them seems slightly taken aback by the mage’s words and tone.

All Whit can think is that he must stop the divine wrath they’re surely about to face. And as a priest of Medishe, perhaps he has a chance. Even though he's far from the level required to commune with the deity, he must have some way to explain and ease the situation.

With that, he jumps to his feet and almost sprints past Nero toward the goddess, intending to prostrate himself at her feet and beg for forgiveness.

“My lady, I can certainly explai...” he begins, simply to crash into something in the air so hard he’s thrown backward. The situation feels like he slammed into a door he hadn’t seen was closed.

As he groggily begins to get up, Nero’s voice rings out again as he approaches. “Whit, you do realize she’s not your lady, right?”

Back on his feet, Whit reaches out for balance and feels a solid surface in mid-air. As if an invisible wall is there, which he momentarily uses for support.

But as he truly grasps what’s in front of him, a deep, chilling terror falls over him. For something like this to be here… the now-impassive goddess before him must be furious. And he sees no solution to remedy it.

Still, he must try. “My lady…” he begins falling again to his knees.

But Nero, now right beside him, cuts in. “Kid, how many times do I have to tell you?” His voice is stern, but not aggressive—almost gentle.

Whit can only look at the figure before him. A form he easily recognizes. And despite his suspicions, she doesn’t look angry—just intrigued by what’s happening. He turns glancing at the serene mage, who has a small, amused smile on his lips.

Nero slowly scans the area with his eyes, eventually fixing his gaze on the woman before them. Then, he takes a step forward.

Unlike Whit, a priest of Medishe, this strange mage is not repelled by the invisible wall. Simply walking through it.

“Great. This tells me something. And I didn't even need to ask anything,” the mage says calmly, not a single worry in his voice, glancing around again.

But Whit isn’t the only one stunned by what he just witnessed.

“What!?” the divine figure asks, unable to hide her confusion.

Nero turns to look at the deity, tilts his head slightly, then shrugs and points behind him with his thumb, answering somewhat puzzled, “What? The wall?”

Getting no answer, he continues casually, “We both know that wall isn’t there to stop people from entering. And there’s only one way to cross it in any direction.”

This draws a response from the deity, as she seems to have realized something. But she eventually shakes her head and now looks at Nero as if he were an enemy.

Prompting yet another desperate attempt from Whit: “My—”

But Nero’s frustrated voice cuts in again. “Dude, how many times do I have to tell you…” He turns his head toward Whit while pointing directly at the figure before them.

“… that is not Medishe. It doesn’t even serve Medishe,” he concludes. Interestingly, the figure does not seem offended—just once again intrigued.

“Go… Gom… Gro… No, no—look, the god of study and… something else,” Nero says as if trying to remember.

“Omgur!?” Whit replies, not quite grasping what Nero is referring to Omgur the god of study and tests...

“Yes, that’s it. That’s one of Omgur’s servants… I think,” Nero answers confidently, though he doesn’t seem entirely certain.

“You really do know a few things. Maybe I should ask what else you know?” the figure says. But her strange smile sends a chill down Whit’s spine, as though he’s glimpsed malevolence on the face that normally reflects Medishe’s serenity.

“Ohhh, I’m sooo scared,” Nero replies sarcastically, before hardening his tone and beginning to walk.

“You want to know something? How about this: unlike this temple, I don’t like fair fights. Lucky for me, I’m not some young priestess of Medishe, like the one you’re waiting for.” His voice remains tough but still tinged with amusement.

“Yes, the one who, when she arrives, depending on her choices, will face you as her final trial. And to keep it fair, your powers are limited to her level,” he pauses, chuckles, and points at his companions with a thumb.

“Even these guys could…” he begins to say, then glances back at them and hesitates slightly before continuing, “Even the girl has a decent shot at beating you. But you can be sure she wouldn’t stand a chance against me.” He turns his attention back to the figure.

“So your threats are…” he doesn’t finish, but the conclusion is clear. And her silence indicates she can’t refute it.

“I thought your advantage was being immune to divine powers?” asks a confused Seres behind them.

Nero turns, clearly annoyed. “Thanks, Blondie, for giving away one of my trump cards. And stop saying I’m immune to divine powers. I think it’s more accurate to say I’ve got increased resistance.”

The mage turns again toward the divine servant, who now seems unsure how to react to everything she’s hearing, and continues, “If I get hit by her divine lightning, it’ll still hurt—just not as much as it would someone else. Plus, even the weakest servants of the gods can crush armor with their bare hands. So I wouldn’t fight one under normal circumstances.”

With that, he begins to walk toward one of the walls. Still standing in the same spot, the figure resembling Medishe repeats in confusion, “How do you know all this?”

Nero points a thumb back at them again and answers like it’s no big deal. “Because I passed through the magic wall that stops temple trial participants from running away without completing the final trial.”

“Impossible!” the figure gasps, now studying the mage carefully.

“The Divine Well of Magic! That’s impossible—I don’t remember you,” she exclaims in shock.

“Oh, that’s the name of the blessing, isn’t it? And not remembering me is…” Nero begins, then grows thoughtful. For a moment, Whit is stunned to have this confirmation that Nero really did go through the temple. Even though the mage had said it before, it had always seemed hard to believe.

“But if you already have your blessing, what are you doing here? You cannot get another. ” the divine servant says.

“Me?” the mage replies, amused and intrigued. “I’m just trying to get a few questions answered. But right now, the only thing I care about is over there,” he says, pointing at the wall he was heading to.

Trying to figure out what could interest him so much, Whit looks closely at the wall. He notices a plaque embedded in it and asks the mage next to him, confirming that this was his destination: “What is that?”

“It’s the list of those who passed the Temple of Divine Trials and were thus blessed by the gods,” answers the divine servant reverently.

Nero, on the other hand, seems fixated on the plaque, his eyes widening in surprise before he says, “Just these names? But this is just filler.” Turning to the servant—who looks offended—he adds, “Shouldn’t there be more names?”

“Of course not, that’s the complete list of everyone who passed. Who else were you expecting to see?” the figure asks. The mage responds by pointing a finger at himself, which leaves the servant speechless.

“This can’t be right. I thought maybe the list would give some clue about the ga—” Nero starts, then stops himself.

Finally, he shakes his head and says, “These names mean nothing.” He then points to one of the names and asks the servant, “Can you even describe this person?”

The clearly offended figure stares at Nero for a moment before answering, “About your height, but more muscular, longer hair. Had a scar on his left arm. He was a skilled archer and received the Divine Eyes of Yhemt.”

The mage blinks in surprise and admits, “Not the answer I was expecting. But just to confirm—you’ve never seen anyone who looks like me, have you?”

“Hmpt, of course not.” is the dismissive reply he receives.

“Yes, of course not. After all, it was always going to be a long shot. But I did end up getting some answers and learning a few things. Not what I wanted. But what can you do...” declares the mage to himself, apparently resigned with what he had discovered. With that, he turns and begins walking back toward the exit.

“Is that it? You challenged me and the gods just to look at a few names on a stele?” asks the divine servant, unable to hide her surprise and confusion.

“Oh, oh!! Challenged the gods? Who here challenged the gods? And even you, all I did was present a few facts. Don’t go twisting things. Alright?” replies the mage, stopping, apparently baffled by what he just heard.

“But...” the servant starts to say, only to be interrupted by Nero, now speaking more seriously:

“Besides, it’s not like they’re actually going to do anything, right?” A statement that leaves even Whit staring at the mage in disbelief, unable to understand him.

Nero resumes walking, but continues his explanation.

“From what I know, there are only about four occasions when the gods can intervene directly. And it would be quite the spectacle for everyone if, in one of those moments, they had the time or patience to deal with little old me. So I’m not too worried...”

Whit then looks at the Medishe-like figure and, from the lack of reaction, he realizes that Nero must once again be correct. And as he studies the divine being before him, the mage keeps talking.

“And well, I could ask more things. But thankfully I’m smart enough to understand that only a fool would trust what you would tell me completely. And that every one of my questions would put me at a disadvantage. So, I think we're done here.”

With that, Nero who is nearly beside Whit again. Giving Whit the courage to ask a question.

“Lord Nero... If you know so much about the gods, why is it that you have no faith in them?”

Nero slowed down, seemingly pondering the question.

“Well. I think I’ve already said that the question isn't exactly faith — it’s more like devotion.”

He scratches his head lightly before continuing.

“Your divine power is mostly fueled by acts of devotion, you know — praying, donating to temples, doing missions for the gods. Stuff like that. And Nero here has never done anything like that, so he hasn’t built up any... well, faith points that could be used against him.”

“How can you even know such things!?” asks the divine servant, who now seems just as confused as Whit feels.

But Nero doesn’t respond as he passes through the invisible barrier that still prevents Whit from approaching.

Now, beside him on the ground, stands this figure whom Whit is starting to find more difficult to understand than even the divine servant on the other side of the wall.

“Come on, there’s nothing else to do here.” declares the mage nonchalantly as he resumes walking.

Which prompts Whit to ask,

“And what about Mira?”