Chapter 11 - Answers?

The small wisp of smoke ceased to exist under the icy eyes of the Savior. 

The cracks of Dolor's old bones echoed in the silent temple, as well as his relieved sigh when he got up. He looked down at Roi, who stood still like a doll, and above Dolor, the statue was staring a few meters to Roi's left. 

Faint chatter and laughter entered the temple through the open doors and grew immensely. Roi heard Calees laugh and Derlom's voice among many others, but he didn't care. 

His body was a mess. The soul of the Sun God, of Gordàlish, traveled throughout his whole body, leaving a brief sensation of warmth behind it. The little soul was traveling more slowly, letting him breathe again, and his mind was storing all the meanings behind the Sun God's name. 

The Savior, finally, could think again. 

"Gordàlish." 

He inhaled deeply, expecting once again to be unable to breathe, to have his mind flooded with that sudden knowledge, and his little soul going mad. 

But, like everything he ever did, nothing happened. 

He moved his gaze beyond Dolor, who was staring at the open doors, to the statue's eyes. Grey. They were grey. 

<> 

He held his breath. His eyes remained fixed on the statue, ready to notice every insignificant movement from it. 

But the only thing that moved was Dolor's head, and the little soul that settled on his left ribs. 

"WHY?! WHY?! WHY DID IT WORK BEFORE AND NOT NOW?! WHY?! WHY IS MY HEAD FULL OF KNOWLEDGE I SHOULDN'T HAVE?! WHY DIDN'T HE TELL ME HIS NAME?! WHY DIDN'T HE EXPLAIN A FUCKING THING!?" 

Without him noticing, Roi's breath became laboured, his mouth was open, revealing his perfect teeth shut tight, and his hands squeezed his tights.

Heavy steps echoed from the doors, blending with the voices coming from outside. 

Ancient Dolor's head covered the whole statue. He was looking at him with a strange expression. His white eyebrows were closer, and between them, tiny rolls of fat had formed. 

<> Dolor seemed to talk more to highlight Sun God than what really happened. 

Even for that tale, except that someone from his world managed to light a fire and that Sun God told him his name, what did he learnt? NOTHING.

<> The Savior's tone was grave, hoarse, and his hatred spread to every corner of the temple.

Dolor was suddenly surprised, his white eyebrows arched, and his old forehead doubled in wrinkles.

He closed his eyes tightly as soon as he realized his voice tone.

"Remember from chicken to Savior. Derlom and Calees don't see me as a monster. I cannot fuck it up now."

 <> He forced himself to be as gentle and calm as possible. 

The eyebrows of the old man returned to their place. He began to talk slowly.

<> 

<> A deep voice spoke as soon as there was a brief pause. It came from behind Roi.

He turned around and was both disgusted and surprised. 

The Bastard was sitting on the yellowish stone closer to the door. Luckily, another stone divided Roi and him. At least he couldn't kick him from there.

The Bastard was resting his head on his right hand, with his elbow on his thigh. He wasn't wearing his black armour. Instead, he was in a green shirt, brown pants, and leather boots. His dark hair was still tied up in a ponytail and seemed more oiled than yesterday. 

His black sword was placed on the stone next to him. 

<>

The Bastard spoke fast, way faster than Ancient Dolor. He stood up, covered a big yawn, and sheathed the black blade. 

The way he stood, legs apart, the way he handled his sword with grace, and his eyes, which, though bored, always remained alert. Everything about him screamed power. 

<> Roi stammered. Then, he turned his head towards Dolor. He did not want to talk or look at that piece of shit. <> He asked, hoping to receive a 'no' as an answer.

<> This time, Dolor answered his question. He seemed much smaller than before, his back curved forward, and his head couldn't look away from the ground. 

<> He wasn't sure if he was talking to them or to himself.

<>

<> Roi shout out. He was hungry, very hungry, for answers, for to know why nobody believed him. HE WAS TELLING THE TRUTH.

The Bastard sighed deeply, fed up.

<> He said harshly. His tired, contemptuous eyes fixed on him.

Roi couldn't help but keep his mouth wide open. He turned his head to Dolor, hoping that he would disagree with him, but the old man avoided his eye contact.

At that moment, a seed of doubt was planted inside the Savior. 

"I have to prove them wrong. He's just an asshole who knows nothing." His eyes moved to the statue, to its enigmatic smile. That smile was for him. He was sure. It was for the man who would have saved him one day.

Even though he wasn't sure if it was mocking him or hoping for him.

<> The Bastard's deep voice echoed through the temple. 

Roi hesitantly got up. He didn't want to go with him, but he had no choice. He was going to walk away when he remembered that he had to clean up. So, he turned around quickly. 

<> He was interrupted by the old man, who raised his hand to him.

<> His voice wasn't firm at all. Instead, it was much more suited to his age. Even his movements were slow and somehow painful to watch. 

Roi didn't know why, but that tone hurt more than the kick of that Bastard. 

Omes, or whatever his name was, was really good at hurting people. 

Roi just nodded at him, but before he could turn around, the old man spoke once again. This time with more vitality. 

<> Then, he lowered his head and began to put everything back in the bag.