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n“T-This is… a Skygem!” Sylvester exclaimed. He had read about this when he was reading about the most precious items in the world. This was one of the top items there.

nSkygem was one of the strongest metallic materials known in the world, with magical properties to be highly durable and in harmony with magic. It was the best thing one could build armor out of, and supposedly, there were just five full-body armors made of Skygems in the entire Sol. But, sadly, throughout history, all five armors have been stolen, divided, and lost, so no single full armor exists.

nNot only that, even if one finds many new Skygems now, one can never make armor because this knowledge resides with Dwarves of Beastaria only. Since it’s an ancient gatekept art, it’s impossible to find and enslave dwarves who know how to work on it as they don’t travel. And those enslaved dwarves who knew, had long passed away.

n“Well, let’s first get rid of the water here and see what we can find,” Sylvester suggested, though he had winked at Miraj to make him look for more such stones and store them. Unfortunately, however, there was no hope of finding gold as the people the Bloodling killed were poor and were running away from war.

nSir Dolorm and Gabriel did the work and drained the water from the small crater. Then, they found a few more gems, such as diamonds and other materials that one could find in the wild. There were also a few gold ores in the shape of random blocks too.

n“Priest Sylvester should keep them.” Bishop Lazark voiced. “You used so many light and solarium crystals here. I can not even imagine how much wealth you spent on them. But, they kept me and all of us alive, so I can never bring myself to take these.”

nSylvester glanced at the man in amazement. ‘Brilliant, a good clergyman who is honest and willing to see beyond one’s eyes.’

n“Thank you, and yes, they did leave a dent in my pockets,” Sylvester replied; although he lied, he was not going to let go of this fantastic opportunity to fill his coffers. Still, he was not that heartless since they did help him, so he gave each one a small Skygem and a few other diamonds.

n“Let’s head back now. I’m sure Felix is going crazy waiting for our return. The town will finally be free of the evil presence. Hopefully, we can heal the schizophrenia with this.” Sylvester prepared to make the journey back.

nSince they had not brought horses, they had to trek back all the way. And it was also turning dark slowly, so they had to rush a little.

nIt was a slow journey, sadly, because of Sylvester as he was too weakened and his body needed time to heal.

n“How are you going to write the report, Bishop?” Sylvester asked on the way.

n“I will only write the report until the part where I encounter you at the town’s gates. Beyond that, I was a part of your assignment, so you will have to fill in from there.” Bishop replied.

nSylvester instantly smelled a hint of worship and lies. It was a strange combination, and only one reason could make sense. Bishop Lazark didn’t know what to write about the fight, especially regarding the crystals, because that would raise questions about why a little priest had so much wealth.

nSylvester didn’t say anything in response and accepted the proposal. In reality, none of them had the energy to say anything. They wished only to return and fall asleep.

n‘I hope Cardinal Suprima of the region got my letter for the refugees. As long as these people surround the town, the trade will always suffer.’ Sylvester thought

nSlowly, they crossed the mountains and returned to the last turn from where the open desert fields would take them directly to the Sphinx town. Since the rain was still raging over them, they reckoned the people must be dancing in joy right now as rainfall was rare around these parts.

n“With this rain, the winter will finally arrive and take over the entire region other than the holy land.” Sir Dolorem commented while looking at the sky.

nSylvester also looked up and noticed the dense clouds. “It seems the rain will last long. I wonder what ca… Wait! Those do not look like clouds!”

nSylvester frowned and ran forward with whatever strength he had to cross the last turn in the valley and come out of the mountains. Others followed behind him, noticing the bizarre thing in the sky.

nBoom!

nThe thunder roared as if laughing at them all. The moment they arrived at the opening, their jaws had fallen. Right in front of them, in the distance, they could see the Sphinx town–burning and being razed to the ground as the boundary walls fell.

n“What the! What happened? Did the refugees attack them?” Sylvester exclaimed and ran towards the town as fast as he could while holding his spear.

nSince they were at the back side of the town, they decided to go to the front and see the status of the refugee camp, which would tell if it was them who did this.

n“I don’t think this was them? They can’t bring such chaos so fast.” Bishop Lazark noted. And this was happening in everyone’s head, but they wished not to accept that before seeing it themselves.

n‘Felix should have been able to stop all the refugees if the situation had called for it! So what the hell happened here?’ Sylvester wondered.

nAnd then, they arrived at the front of the town and saw the horrors that could not be described. There lay bodies upon bodies, mercilessly killed. Some were cut into pieces, while most were thrown around–burnt.

nAll the tents the refugees had set were turned to soot, as the fire had done its work as the rain made things worse. There was bloody batter everywhere. Sylvester even found a few intact bodies, but they were all dead. He tried to look for any sign of life and found nothing but silence.

n“What the hell happened here?” Gabriel exclaimed in anger and helplessness.

nSylvester, meanwhile, smelled nothing but misery, death, and sorrow in the air–still lingering from what had happened here.

n“Felix! Where is he?” Sylvester questioned and looked around. But seeing him nowhere, he ran towards the town’s gates. The walls could not be called walls anymore, as they were burning ragingly.

nThe four rushed and reached the large metal gates. To their shock, they were not just blasted away, but there appeared to be a large hole as if someone had melted the metal.

nAnd to their horror, as soon as they stepped inside, they were gifted with the sight that sent shivers down their spine. As there remained Felix’s form, kneeling on the ground while facing the gates.

nHis head was held low while the rain soaked his hair, and his arms rested on the hilt of the broken sword in front of him on which he rested his forehead. He appeared to be burnt, and his body was bloodied beyond recognition. There was no movement, however, as Sylvester walked towards his best friend.

nSylvester knew, however, that Felix was not dead, but broken he undoubtedly was. The smell of foul rotten meat of sadness, the chills of fear, and the spices of the rage mixed together made it clear that Felix had fought a battle no different from his own.

nHe knelt down in front of the man, ignoring the burning town, and patted his shoulder. “Felix!”

nHowever, in response only came a little sob, not of tears but of anger. “I…I couldn’t stop them, Max. I failed… I couldn’t do anything…”

n“His tendons have been cut. That’s why he can’t stand up.” Bishop Lazark commented as he quickly tried to give first aid to Felix. “I can heal them.”

nSylvester nodded and didn’t talk to anyone. Instead, he walked straight into the town, towards the monastery, looking for survivors. But his way went through the various small districts. The houses had burnt down and now just spewed smoke.

nThere were bodies littered on streets, similarly some burnt, some chopped, and some just dead. There were men, women, and even kids. Nobody was spared. Sylvester’s heart sank as a young boy’s smile resurfaced in his mind, of the boy who was always so determined–to become like him one day.

nBut he kept himself hopeful and made a run towards the monastery. On his way, sometimes the walls of the houses fell on him. Sometimes the smoke covered his way–the darkness from the smoke had turned the day to a night.

n“Shane!” Sylvester called for the boy since he considered him to be smart enough. But when he arrived, all he saw was a still burning Monastery and dozens of corpses outside.

nThe scent of death, not as a threat, lingered around him, and overwhelmed his emotions. He had recognized many faces as just a day before they were listening to his hymns, saluting him, or giving him gifts.

n‘What brought this destruction to this town? Why?’ Sylvester wondered the same thing repeatedly as he ran into the monastery.

n“Kid! Can you hear me?” He called for the boy and checked each room while dousing the flames with magic.

nHe was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion, but he forced himself not to as adrenalin kept alive his frustration. He checked each room and called for the boy, yet all he found were burning bodies and fire raging, leaving everything destroyed.

nSylvester had no obligations towards that kid, nor was he related to him. But he liked him for his unwavering will and perseverance to become his student. Sylvester never considered taking in an apprentice before as he always felt on edge with people, but the boy left no stones unturned to show he was not like others.

nThe scent of emotions, after all, doesn’t lie–and the boy also had the talent to go very high.

nBam!

nSylvester kicked the final door on the way to the monastery’s basement. But as he entered, the fire appeared to be raging even more under there.

nWoosh!

nSylvester quickly used air manipulation to end the fire and looked around. It appeared the ceiling had fallen in a few places.

n“Hm? Shane?!” ．𝗻𝐞𝘁

nAll of a sudden, his sense was alerted as a sudden strong punch of emotion of love took over his mind. This was the love of a mother, and there was also fear combined.

nSylvester knew someone was around there, so he started lifting off every fallen ceiling. One, two, three, and more… he kept going until he reached the one… that mattered the most.

n“Haaa!” With great effort, he lifted it off.

nThud!

nAnd there he saw–the horror… The scene made him fall to his knees and crumble apart even the tough walls around Sylvester’s heart.

n“Shane… Kid…”

nAs he saw, there remained the naked body of Shane’s mother, sitting with crossed legs, and there was Shane in her arms, who she shielded with her body–sacrificing herself.

n“Kid…” Sylvester dragged himself closer to them as he also felt his body finally give up. For he wished such fate to befall not even on his enemies.

nHe tried to extend his hand to hold them. But it was all a mess as the fire had gotten to them. Shane’s mother had her entire back with hair and her face burnt. In her arms… Shane’s tiny frame remained stuck to her skin as the heat of the fire melted them into each other.

nHe could see she was dead, and the last expressions were of pain, frown, hope, and fear for the one in her arms… her son, who, sadly, she couldn’t protect from the fire that had dawned over them.

n“Ugh…”

n“Shane?!” Sylvester noticed the painful groan. He moved closer quickly and tried to heal him with his magic.

nBut the fate that awaited them was nothing but tragic.

nShane’s eyes had also melted away, and his face was beyond recognition. Yet, the boy somehow tried to raise his disfigured hand with whatever strength remained.

nSylvester held it quickly and forced all the magic he could muster. “Miraj! Give me all the Solarium crystals! Kid, don’t push. I will save you.”

nBut, he had already lost hope as the boy hardly breathed his last words in whispers.

n“P-Pr-riest…” Shane tried to speak.

nSylvester forced him to shut up, as his own face seemed pale as the night moons, having lost too much in his body. “Shh… you will live… for your mum!”

nAlthough innocent were the next words spoken, they were profound enough to leave Sylvester heartbroken.

nMurmured the little boy weakly as he gasped for one more breath.

n“Y-You li-lied–M-Monster…lo…look…like–Us…”

nSylvester tried to do something–anything. But the eerie silence was all that greeted him as the little hand in his palm fell lump. A smile was erased forever–the giggles, playful schemes, dreams, and crude recitals of hymns would remain just a memory–just another name that became another part of the dark history.

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