Father John's voice carried softly through the square, gentle yet rich with authority, the kind that calmed even the most restless hearts. He spoke with the poise of a seasoned servant of faith, his tone warm, composed, and suffused with quiet reverence.
"The Awakening," he began, "is a divine gift from Lord Hum himself, the highest blessing upon the children of humankind. Through his mercy and grace, we may draw forth the Emblem of our souls and awaken to our true purpose."
A murmur of devotion swept through the gathered crowd.
Father John clasped his hands before his chest and closed his eyes, his expression serene. "For we, the children of Hum, are granted the purest of blessings. The other races may cling to their crude totems and lesser relics, but the Emblem is divinity made manifest, the proof of humanity's chosen grace."
Willow resisted the urge to sigh. And there it is. Even in another world, religious arrogance survives.
He knew that Father John wasn't completely wrong. But he was only half right, twisting doctrine into something the common folk could easily digest.
Emblems weren't gifts from the Human God. They were born from within, the crystallization of a soul's deepest desire. The Human God merely guided the process, easing the burden of awakening. But if the Church ever admitted that, it would lose the unquestioned devotion it depended on. Faith demanded ownership.
Willow's gaze drifted toward Elm. She remained still as ever, her hands folded neatly before her, her face unreadable. The priest's subtle disdain toward other races didn't stir even the smallest flicker in her expression.
Willow almost smiled. You'll change that someday, won't you?
He already knew the prophecy.Elm would emerge from this very ceremony as the Child of Light, humanity's Celestial Hero, the one destined to shatter the walls between nations and bring the world together.
But before that future came blood.
Willow's pulse quickened. His breath caught in his throat. The nearer future was the one that mattered — the tragedy that would soon fall over this peaceful town and the chaos he planned to use as his escape.
He remembered it clearly from the game.The Awakening would begin as planned, calm and sacred, until the skies turned black.The first screams would come from the hills. Then fire. Then smoke. Then demons.The guards would rally — his mother among them — while Elm's newly awakened power would blaze through the night like a storm of holy fire.By dawn, Maplewood would burn.
Willow clenched his hands and tried to breathe. Knowing the future wasn't a gift. It was a curse that tightened its grip around his throat.
Father John's voice rose again, gentle but commanding. "Children of Maplewood, come forth and receive your truth."
The tall doors of the Humlic Church creaked open.Incense drifted through the air, its sweet aroma of myrrh and mountain flowers filling the square. The crowd followed, the hum of prayers echoing softly beneath the stone arches.
Inside, the church gleamed with solemn beauty.White marble walls trimmed in gold, sunlight filtering through stained glass, and rows of pews lined on either side, filling slowly with whispering townspeople. At the far end stood a great golden crucifix, Lord Hum rendered in serene perfection, arms open in divine embrace.
Father John ascended the dais, the hem of his black-and-gold robes brushing against the steps. Turning toward the initiates, his voice softened.
"Come," he said warmly. "Sit upon the blessed mat. Steady your hearts, for the ceremony shall now begin."
The young men and women obeyed in silence. The air thickened with reverence.
Willow sat cross-legged among them, trying to appear calm though his heartbeat pounded like a drum. His gaze swept across the hall. The guards were already moving into place, their armor glinting faintly beneath the candlelight. He recognized his mother immediately — Olivia — her braid swaying as she directed the others with crisp, precise orders. Even from here, her posture radiated authority.
Farther back, Leonard sat among the crowd, his eyes glowing with pride and warmth, his hands clasped as if in prayer.
Willow's throat tightened. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad.
Father John lifted one hand toward the ceiling. "Let us begin with prayer."
The church fell silent.
"Lord Hum, Great Father of Humans, Guide of Souls," he intoned, his voice low and steady. "We offer these children to your light. May their hearts open, their spirits be cleansed, and their Emblems revealed according to your will."
A soft glow filled the air, golden motes of mana rising and dancing like dust in sunlight.
Then came the first name.
"Rose of Marisa's," the priest called. "Step forward, child, and receive your blessing."
"Y-yes, Father!" A red-haired girl stepped forward, her voice trembling as she bowed. "I am ready."
Father John smiled gently. "Do not fear, my child. The Lord's light welcomes all who come with humble hearts."
He placed his right hand above her head. "Close your eyes. Seek the flame within your soul. Let your truth be revealed."
The girl obeyed, folding her hands in prayer.
A faint hum began to fill the church, deep and resonant. Father John's chant echoed softly in an ancient tongue that rolled like thunder beneath the floor.
"O Hum, Breath of Dawn, hear thy daughter's call. Shape her essence, awaken her truth. Let the Emblem be born."
Willow leaned forward, eyes fixed on the glowing light that gathered around Father John's hand. He had seen this moment in the game through text alone, but watching it in person was something else entirely.
The light traveled slowly down from the priest's palm to the girl's hair, flowing through her body until it reached her right hand, where it flared brightly before fading into a warm glow.
The girl opened her eyes to find a flame-shaped mark now etched on the back of her hand — her Emblem, the crystallization of her soul.
Father John nodded approvingly. "A fortunate one indeed."
Then he raised his voice for all to hear. "The Emblem of Fire."
Applause rippled through the hall. Proud parents cheered as Rose rushed back into her mother's arms.
Willow watched with quiet amusement. The Emblem of Fire was a common one, but its worth depended entirely on how she would wield it — and whether she would live long enough to master it.
His smile slowly faded as the next name was called.