In the desolate wilderness, the priest I met, Enyalius, introduced himself as Demus.
“You can’t just keep calling me the enemy of the Ten Towers. What should I call you?”
‘Not even considering calling me L13. Well, it is Blasphemia’s code name, so I guess that makes sense.’
“Should we go with Utis then?”
“Ha. You’re picking a name that clearly sounds like a fake.”
I shrugged. My face doesn’t really stick in people’s minds unless they’ve spent a significant amount of time with me.
So, I wasn’t burdened about revealing my face, but the name is a different story. I wasn’t exactly prepared to impersonate anyone like a fresh recruit for Blasphemia.
It’s better just to give a different name from the start.
“I’m the nameless prophet with closed eyes. Quite symbolic, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or sentimental. Demus hurried off after leaving that comment.
“Where are you going?”
“I see. You said you’ve never participated in a gathering of the Divine Cult, so it makes sense you wouldn’t know.”
“Considering Blasphemia has been relentlessly chasing us for that long, I suspect they’ve used some kind of Holy Power.”
“Right. Blasphemia has been trailing us for a really long time. But…”
Demus rolled up his sleeves. Beneath them were tattoos of two snakes entwined around a staff, known as the caduceus symbol.
‘Hmm? That symbol isn’t from the God of War Enyalius but from the Gatekeeper Phylios, isn’t it?’
As I pondered this, Demus began to tear at the tattoo. It looked like he was trying to rip off his own skin.
However, his skin didn’t peel away to reveal muscle underneath. Only the golden symbol held in his hand was tossed into the air.
Demus poured his Divine Power into the floating symbol. As it absorbed more power, the symbol grew larger.
Finally, when the staff reached a height of nearly 2 meters, the two snakes that coiled around it were unleashed, transforming into pillars shaped like snakes on either side. The space between the staff and the snake pillars filled with a radiant glow of Divine Power. The staff, touched by the Divine Power, seemed to melt away, casting a golden hue across the veil of Holy Power that filled the space between the snake pillars.
As the two snakes glared at each other in the shimmering veil of Divine Power, it was certainly a portal connecting one space to another.
“Those not blessed by the gods can’t reach the Divine Cult’s sanctum. Follow me.”
Demus stepped naturally through the golden portal. I followed right behind him.
*
Footsteps echoed from beyond an immaculate white marble corridor.
“They’re coming.”
It wasn’t just one set of footsteps. The current leader of the Phoibos Cult, Hyacinth, murmured in a somber tone upon hearing the sounds.
‘The prophet of Phoibos….’
There was a time when the gods would personally bestow their voice upon humankind, when humans could behold the face of the divine.
But after the glorious era ended and the dark age began under that wicked Mage King, those who communicated with the gods, the prophets, faded into the annals of history.
The Divine Cult of the present was no different. Among the leaders and bishops of the various cults, there were some who claimed to have received revelations from the gods, but none claimed to have heard the Voice of the Gods.
All that remained were subtle omens and symbolic dreams; those who could truly hear the Voice of the Gods had vanished.
It had been an eternity of silence. Even the most devout had grown weary of it.
‘That’s why when the Pope’s impious plan was put to a vote, the other cults didn’t support it….’
Yet now, a self-proclaimed prophet claiming to directly communicate with the gods had emerged.
And it was the prophet of Phoibos.
Hyacinth couldn’t accept it. After so many years of silence from the deity he had believed in!
Hyacinth looked around. Most were cloaked or veiled, making it impossible to read their expressions.
But Phoibos watched from afar. Through the medium of his Holy Power, Hyacinth could read the emotions of others.
‘Most are cautious and observant, huh?’
Hyacinth glared at the veiled woman sitting at the round table across from him. Though veiled, it wasn’t a heavy veil meant to completely hide the face.
The nearly transparent veil felt more like a bridal veil that would eventually be lifted. He could easily glimpse the woman’s features through the semi-transparent fabric. Her long, golden hair was striking.
The acting leader of the cult of pleasure, joy, and carnal desires, Elimon, Urania.
‘Interesting…?’
Though she seemed spontaneous and indulgent like the goddess she served, it was surprising that she expressed curiosity towards the suspicious self-proclaimed prophet. Hyacinth shook his head.
He could see two figures approaching from down the corridor.
The priests seated around the round table stood up.
There were originally thirteen golden chairs at the table. One was empty because the Pope hadn’t shown up, and another because the representative of the Enyalius Cult had gone to greet the impostor.
The gazes of eleven were directed at the two coming this way, specifically at the self-proclaimed prophet trailing Demus.
Demus opened his mouth.
“This one foretold the actions of Argyrion and announced the fall of Torres Tower to me. Upon our first meeting, he called himself the enemy of the Ten Towers, and upon our second meeting, he revealed himself to be a nobody, naming himself Utis. I hope the comrades of the Cult that honors the Sacred Name will treat the prophet of Phoibos with the welcome he deserves.”
Hyacinth thought.
‘The leader of the cults who should speak as their representative is currently absent. So I have the right to speak first.’
Hyacinth proceeded boldly, or perhaps with anger. Seeing Hyacinth advance, the other priests took their seats once more.
Fueled with fervor, Demus blocked Hyacinth’s way. The distance between Demus and Hyacinth was six paces. And again, the distance between Demus and Utis was six paces.
Hyacinth shouted towards Utis over the twelve paces.
“I, Hyacinth, as the legitimate leader of the Phoibos Cult, speak. The Phoibos Cult does not know one such as you. You, who claims to be nobody, reveal your identity to me!”
*
I had already anticipated this level of resistance. It was unexpected to see the other cults taking a step back.
Unlike the other priests who hid their faces, Hyacinth showed his face as boldly as Demus. Did he mean to speak as the Phoibos Cult against the Phoibos Cult?
“I don’t know you either.”
“What?”
“But I know one thing. The ones gathered here are enemies of the Ten Towers. I also happen to be an enemy of the Ten Towers, so although you may not trust me as a comrade of the cult, surely you could trust me as an enemy of an enemy?”
Hyacinth’s face twisted slightly at my words.
“You call yourself the prophet of Phoibos, and yet you say the leader doesn’t know—” “Hey.”
The one who interrupted Hyacinth was a young priest sitting in one of the golden chairs. By the depth of his voice, he sounded like a young man, perhaps just reaching puberty?
“Say it, Ten Towers bastard.”
Huh?
“You said you’re the enemy of the Ten Towers, right? So say it, Ten Towers bastard.”
“Ten Towers bastard—”
“I want a love fortune read!”
A sudden interjection. An easily discernible youthful voice, the shout of a veiled blonde woman.
“Urania, what are you doing? Ideological verification is an important procedure.”
“Proditor, you of all people. Demus assured, didn’t he? It’s not about whether he’s an enemy of the Ten Towers; we need to see if his prophecy ability is real!”
From that point onward, something loosened within the crowd.
“The secrets to passing Blasphemia’s interview are—”
“Surely that high-frequency blade isn’t a ceremonial tool of Blasphemia?”
“Is it true that they eat stew in the Blasphemia basement?”
“Where’s the Bacchus Cult’s kid?”
A few priests had remained silent, but the roundtable meeting room was soon filled with noise. Demus held his head in his hands.
Demus cautiously approached and whispered, “There weren’t usually this many rowdy people among them…. Please understand. After decades of only receiving gloomy news, it seems everyone’s feeling a bit hopeful about this event.”
I gave a wry smile. I hadn’t come to deliver hope; I’d come to scheme.
Even amidst the cheerful atmosphere of the round table, the loudest voices were Urania and Proditor.
“Can you read my love fortune?”
“Say it, Ten Towers bastard.”
“Can you read my love fortune?”
“Ten Towers bast—”
“Enough!”
Hyacinth shouted with a boiling voice. He had tolerated this for the first few times, but it seemed he had finally reached his limit.
“Everyone should maintain decorum as someone responsible for the cult! I am the one speaking to this impostor!”
*
With Hyacinth’s furious outburst suppressing the chaos, he once again glared at Utis.
“Having proclaimed you wish us to believe you are the enemy of the Ten Towers, I will now test whether you have the wisdom and prophecy to oppose the Ten Towers.”
Utis casually nodded. His closed eyes and smiling mouth. He seemed to be contemplating the world in a place far removed from reality. Hyacinth didn’t like anything about Utis.
“Speak. You who presume to claim prophet!”
‘No matter how talented you might be, you likely won’t know this.’
This was the most secretive prophecy Hyacinth had glimpsed. Even other cult leaders didn’t know; it had been shared only with the Pope.
Truly, unless chosen by a Sacred Relic, one could not possibly know this.
“What will be the greatest calamity to befall this world?”
Utis’s smile deepened. Hyacinth thought he was just feigning composure to hide his astonishment.
‘Talking about the Great Hunt against the Ten Towers or the overflow of extra-dimensional creatures won’t give you the truths you seek. I shall expose your falsehoods in broad daylight.’
Slowly, Utis opened his mouth.
“…The return of the Mage King.”
A voice so small it was almost inaudible.
“Prophet, you must speak the prophecy!”
From between his closed eyelids, a faint blue glow peeked through. The blue hue intensified as it cast shadows around the round table.
No.
The saturation of the world lowered.
In the suddenly darkened vision, a fog loomed behind Utis.
It wasn’t just any fog. It seemed like the swirling essence of the world’s malevolence combining into one.
At the heart of this mirage of fate lay the shadow of an entity clad in an indescribable, resplendent glow.
Casting that dreadful light as backlighting, Utis’s blue eyes shone.
“Return of the Mage King.”
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