Later that evening,
"It's official!" Father Azrael cheered. "We have a new student."
I, Daniel, and my teacher sat in what looked like a church building, where I usually received lectures from him. Daniel was by my side, with Father Azrael opposite us. But there was no bible before him.
Seems we won't be having an actual lesson today.
I glanced at Daniel. "Welcome."
He thanked me briefly before refocusing his eyes on our teacher.
"Daniel is now one of us," said my teacher. "along with more to come."
More to come…
For the first time in a while, it wasn't a bluff. Fortunately for him, news of my success had stretched farther than I expected, even more than that of his 'previous failure'.
You see, when the praised genius 'Father Azrael' became a teacher, everyone expected him to tutor a multitude of Crusaders.
In fact, that was an understatement. Many people believed that he would singlehandedly raise legions of Crusaders, hence expanding the forces of our Sanctuary. But then, the much known thing happened.
All students…failing.
However, my success wasn't disregarded. It would appear that people still had hope in Father Azrael after all. As a result, several aspiring crusaders started vying for his tutelage.
So, not long from now, he will be educating several students, just like his very first time.
Hopefully, it won't end up as another mass failure…
Father Azrael's gaze turned subtly stern.
"Now that all that is said and done." He declared. "I must now brief you both on the reality of the outside world."
A deep sigh escaped my vocal box involuntarily as I reclined in my seat. Daniel, however, remained as expressionless as ever. But, his eyes were laser-focused on Father Azrael.
"Daniel, you were born outside the Sanctuary, yes?"
He nodded. "For 12 years. Until a Missionary team rescued and relocated me with most of my community."
My heart held onto that…one…word. 'Rescued.' I immediately guessed that a significant fraction of the said community were persecuted Christians who were found and helped by Missionaries in hiding.
I suddenly felt a heavy, abstract sensation bear down on me. Tracing it brought me to the realisation of Father Azrael's gaze, keenly fixed on me.
"So, Daniel," he continued. "What would you say is the main task of Missionaries?"
After swift reasoning came a response. "The gospel?"
My teacher nodded, talking to Daniel but still not taking his eyes off me. "And why is that?"
"Because it's the Great Commission."
"100 points." He cheered. "Now, Joshua, how about us Exorcists?"
"Hunting demons," I replied swiftly.
But I was incorrect.
"Not quite." He retorted. "You've got the motive all wrong."
…..
"Exorcism?"
Father Azrael nodded. "But why do we exorcise?"
Ah.
It finally clicked.
"To set people free from demonic influence," I answered.
"100 points for you, too."
He lifted his gaze from me, clasping his hands before lowering his chin on them. His irises oscillated as they darted from Daniel to me and back.
"What's the similarity here?" He asked, throwing the question to us both this time.
I immediately knew what the answer was. But, the possibility of failure tugged at me, and I kept silent.
"Deliverance." Daniel echoed my thoughts. "The gospel aims for deliverance from Sin, while exorcisms aim for deliverance from demons."
"Simple and straightforward." Father Azrael commented. "At this point, I hope you see what I'm driving at."
We both had an idea.
"Forget the lofty, gallant tales you've heard. And look past the elegance that Crusaders are clothed in by the masses." he urged. "A fine majority of Crusaders that were born in the Sanctuary tend to quit after a year or two of service. Why? Nothing but fear."
I see…
Only an idiot wouldn't see his vision by now. This talk was inadvertently directed at me, the oblivious one that knows nothing about Earth.
Father Azrael continued. "We deal with demons. But Missionaries don't. As a result, we have several people avoiding the Exorcist Path for the Missionary. All because they know little."
"While there are several Missionaries in the force, the higher the rank, the more dangerous the mission. Yes, the ranks. Everyone wants to rank higher. But, these people are mostly those with little to no knowledge of the outside world, hence the misconception that the Missionary Path is easier."
Father Azrael leaned in closer, his voice dropping several degrees. "Allow me to be frank about the harsh reality that we all tend to avoid..."
"There are more deaths by man than by demons. Yes, I am referring to Crusaders such as yourselves."
"...."
Well…
Now, I didn't know what to say or even think. But, that reveal was definitely a surprise factor for me.
"Well it's only natural." Daniel shrugged. "We are banned from attacking humans, and our abilities simply don't work on them."
Really?
Doesn't that just leave us at the mercy of any man that stumbles across us?
"In other words.." Father Azrael added. "However high your rank is, unless you can move at lightspeed or something, or God performs a miracle, then just like every human…you are susceptible to lead."
'Lead' implied bullet.
My thoughts were a mess. A jumbled convolution of things that was birthed from a mental myriad.
My mind no longer focused on Father Azrael's words. Instead, it peered into the unsaid, following the hints and rhythm of spoken things.
First of all, Christians were persecuted.
Not just any persecution, it was such a great one that it was legalised.
Legalised hate.
It wasn't even a crime to murder a Christian. Anyone who did so faced no repercussions under the law unless the report of the deceased's belief was proven to be fabricated.
Now, we had Crusaders. Exorcists…
No, not Exorcists. Missionaries..
These people really approached men to spread the gospel, knowing fully well that they could die. They had underground churches, blended into society, and lived in hiding. They gathered Christians and sheltered them, distributed bibles illegally, and even worse….
They died. Everyday.
At least one Christian was sentenced to death on a daily basis under the watchful eyes of billions and billions on the globe.
Yet, they never relented.
"I see it's starting to dawn on you, Joshua." Father Azrael's words invaded my troubled mind.
Daniel was also looking at me but with an unreadable expression on his face.
"In that darkness, that thick darkness, we Crusaders, are meant to be the light," said Father Azrael. "But if I must say, it won't be easy. Not at all."
I shut my eyes, taking a moment to register those words. With a deep sigh, I managed to descend into a clear-minded state.
There was no room for sentimentality as that would only bear fruits of fear and paranoia. Especially not after my mind-boggling encounter with the Tempter.
Father Azrael peered at Daniel.
"Daniel," he called. "Do you still wish to be a Crusader?"
His reply was quite nonchalant. "Sure. I don't see why I shouldn't."
My teacher smiled. "Great."
Then, he turned to look at me. "Joshua, do you still wish to be a Crusader?"
...
Sigh..
The weight.
The burden.
It's heavy.
The weight. We called it a cross. We, Christians, in our imperfect imitation of Christ, likened our troubles—however large or minuscule to the heavy cross that Jesus bore.
Just like Christ, we all carried our crosses. And we never stood still.
Despite all the external opposition, despite the challenges, despite the persecution…
We kept moving. As if the weight wasn't there.
Those Missionaries. Those deceased Christians. They walked up to Death with a smile on their faces.
Why then would I chicken out?
I still want to hunt demons. Sure, I might have the motive wrong, as Father Azrael said. But if this is my calling, something as insignificant as fear will not be the thing to hold me back.
My palms slid over the surface of my grey cassock as they crept underneath my pellegrina. And then, in one swift motion, I brought out my cross.
It only took me a few seconds to realise. My cross was heavier than earlier. Not the metaphorical cross this time of course. And the increase in weight was as literal as possible.
…..
I would lift it regardless.
My gaze grew stronger with a nearly palpable intensity. I returned Father Azrael's watch and we locked eyes.
I opened my mouth to make a declaration. A firm declaration.
But no words left…
…..
What is…?
Father Azrael still watched me. Daniel did also. But my focus had drifted, and my eyes wandered.
Him.
There.
He stood.
He was mutilated, severely, to the point of no saving. His eyes had no semblance of life in them, and his skin was riddled with deep, grotesque gashes and holes that exposed his bones.
'He' was me. Rather, he looked like me.
Yes, 'looked'.
I saw the horns. I wasn't stupid.
The Tempter was here.