Thorren clutched the necklace and glanced at his cousins. Nelisha gave him a subtle nod. Thorren removed the necklace. “This is an important memento,” he said, handing it to Elian after a few seconds of pause. “My uncle had this for several years. Are you telling me he was using it wrong?”

“I don’t think so,” Elian said. “He wouldn’t spend a lot of money and not know how to use this. Did your uncle give you this necklace as is?”

“My father didn’t give it to Thorren,” Nelisha said. “I gave it to him after I pieced it back together.”

“What?” Thorren jolted. “This was broken?”

“Not broken.” Nelisha vehemently shook her head. “The glyph stones are fine; Grandma Lemma was very sure. But the chain snapped when father… the Tribulation.” Her voice cracked. She shook her head as if it’d throw painful memories out of her mind. “Glyph stones scattered. Found just four of the five. I put them back together and gave them to you. I’m really sorry if I did something wrong.”

“I wasn’t aware glyph stones needed to be ordered correctly,” Thorren said.

“They’re called interlocking glyph stones because this entire thing—” Elian pointed at the long cylinder made of four smaller pieces “—works as one after you put them together. But order is key to how they work. It goes right to left if you’re wearing it. Which means that the first piece should be this one.”

Elian dismantled the cylinder and held up a glyph stone with an inscription of inverted triangles on top of each other.

“Can’t recall the correct term for this piece,” Elian said. “We’re just going to call it a modifier. It boosts all the other pieces. What you have here empowers connected glyph stones by ten percent, if I’m not mistaken. It should go first, not last.”

Nelisha covered her mouth as she gasped. “I’m so sorry, Thorren. I didn’t know.”

“No harm done,” Thorren quickly replied, patting her head. “I’m alive and well through all my previous Tribulations. If anything, it’s my fault for not learning about glyph stones. The Storm God sent Elian to help us. What’s the next piece to use, friend?”

Elian held up a glyph stone with squiggly lines. “If you see this, it means the stone reduces damage by a percentage, so it should be rightmost after the modifier stone. After that, these last two pieces are barriers. As a rule, use the stronger one first because the weaker barrier will merge with it. And there you have it.”

Thorren wore the redone necklace. A thin film of silver and then gold covered his body, combining to become a shimmering coat before fading away. “It has never done that before,” he said. “Storm God, strike me down if I’m delusional, but I can feel myself more protected. My deep gratitude, friend. I won’t forget your help.” Nelisha and her siblings mumbled their thanks too.

The amphitheater was packed when they entered. Thorren went to line up with the other Penitents while Elian led the children up the stairs to find an empty spot to stand in because all the seats were taken.

“Is it always this crowded?” Elian asked.

Nelisha nodded as she hugged her youngest brother tight, protecting his head from the jostling crowd. “Followers of Tharguras and Faridar are in town, so it got this crazy. Wasn’t this bad before Tharguras arrived.” She was more laid back in her speech compared to the sometimes too-formal Thorren.

Penitents appeared one by one, from the lowest Tribulation—ten gunning for their eleventh—to the highest. Save the most exciting for last. It also ensured the weaker Penitents would have an audience and donations. If the crowd favorites went first, pilgrims might empty their pockets for them and immediately leave.

So that’s the protection of the Stage of Devotion. Elian was too far away to examine the individual components making the layered seals protecting the Penitent. Barrier Mages patrolled the edge of the arena to protect the audience.

The Tribulation slammed on the first Penitent, a grizzled middle-aged man who had poured purple liquid on himself and then generated a forcefield. Modest cheering and a light rattle of coins. People wishing to donate could drop their coins into the railings of the tiered seatings. The coins would get sucked to the bottom-most tier and collected for the Penitent.

A parade of Penitents. The same pattern repeated. A loud slam. Cheers. Rattling coins.

Elian focused on the different means of defense the Penitents used to distract himself from the baking heat of packed bodies. Maybe he was imagining things, but he swore the audience kept multiplying, people finding spaces where there were none. On the bright side—there’s always one—it was fun to learn about how different Paths were used and combined.

As the turn of Penitents calling for their fifteenth Tribulation neared, Nelisha’s face lost its color.

“Don’t worry,” Elian said as if that’d magically erase her worries. He sucked at comforting other people on Earth. Fifteen years on Fellenyr didn’t help him get better at it. “Did Thorren get hurt last time?”

Nelisha shook her head, not speaking. She had pressed her lips so hard together they turned white.

“Then he also won’t get hurt now,” Elian said. “Especially with your uncle’s necklace working properly.”

Nelisha could only nod. She stood on tiptoes to see over the head of the crowd as Thorren entered the arena. Her siblings wanted to have a look too. Elian bent down to pick them up, but Nelisha stopped him. Without hearing her explanation, he discerned she didn’t want them to see if something untoward happened to Thorren.

Thorren puffed his chest out with confidence. There was a slight swagger in his steps as he walked to the center of the Stage of Devotion. His bulky armor amplified his strong presence. Elian stood by his first impression of Thorren—this guy looked like a Champion Penitent with throngs of supporters. The audience thoughts so too. They cheered louder for Thorren than for other Penitents. Some coins rattled even before the Tribulation was called down.

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The defenses of the Stage of Devotion activated. Thorren assumed the first stance of body tempering. Some sparkles flickered on his body. He was gathering Aether, not for protection but for effect.

Nelisha muttered a prayer in her native tongue. The siblings held each other hands tighter. The skies darkened. Elian hoped that Thorren would be unhurt, uttering a quick prayer to some unnamed god. He frowned. I’m worried? Why?

Before Elian could dissect his thought, the Tribulation descended in a blue strike. The ground vibrated. Nelisha gasped. The amphitheater fell silent for a moment.

Thorren remained standing. The protective coat from his necklace shimmered in the last rays of the setting sun. He punched the air and roared in triumph.

“Thorren! Thorren!” Elian shouted, egging on the crowd. “Come on, yell his name!”

At first, people were surprised at his shouting. They had cheered for other Penitents but never mentioned names. Just general support for everyone. Elian continued yelling; stopping would be asking for humiliation. After giving Elian a bewildered look, Nelisha laughed and cheered for Thorren too. Like a spreading wildfire, the cheers spread outward from Elian, the crowd following his chants. Having an easy-to-say name definitely helped. It sounded catchy too.

“Thorren!”

“Thorren!”

“Who’s Thorren?” Elian heard someone say behind him.

“Probably the guy on stage?” his companion sarcastically replied. “Use your brain and eyes now.”

Thorren’s name echoed in the amphitheater, accented with a tinkling stream of coins. Thorren was surprised at the reaction and gaped at the stands, almost tumbling on his way down the stage. Elian facepalmed himself. Don’t ruin your exit.

“It’s over…” Nelisha exhaled long as if expelling every bit of air from her body.

They descended the tiers to look for Thorren. The Tribulations continued with steadily stronger thumps and quakes. A couple of Penitents were a tad underprepared and suffered grievous injuries. Healers were quick to respond. No deaths so far. Elian still maintained the entire thing was a morbid event.

If Thorren died, I can’t save him in the next rewind. There were no more rewinds. This was the worry nibbling at Elian. In his previous life, he connected with people, made strong bonds with friends and allies. But there was a distance he couldn’t get rid of. He hated to admit to himself, but there were times he didn’t fight as hard as he could. Didn’t care much for their deaths. He’d save them in the next loop—that was what he always told himself.

Changing things in the next timeline also meant he might not even make friends with them. Like now, he didn’t go south to the City of Mists. At this point in the previous timeline, Yanira was helping learn the ropes of magic in this new world. Their connection would be erased after the rewind—Elian used this excuse to stop himself from getting too attached to others.

Now, there was no rewind. This was it.

He needed to bring himself to care more beyond the bigger idea of defeating the Giants to save humanity.

“Um, si-sir,” Nelisha said while they waited for Thorren. He must be collecting and counting his coins. “Thorren respects you, sir. Can you… can you convince him to stop doing this? But don’t tell him I said it,” she hastily added. “He keeps saying this is to make money. I don’t understand him. Money isn’t worth risking his life in front of everyone.”

“He’s not necessarily risking his life—” Elian began to say.

“Yeah, he makes sure he’s going to survive it. He promised us he won’t go through with a Tribulation unless he’s dead certain nothing will go wrong. All those assurances. Hunting is also dangerous, and those things. This is different.”

Elian recalled Thorren’s explanation to Lyra about his motivations. It was something deeper than money. “Wasn’t your father also a Penitent?” he asked. “I think Thorren wants to emulate him. He mentioned in class something about Champion Penitents having many followers.”

Nelisha wrinkled her brows. “Father didn’t have many followers, except if you counted me and my siblings following him around town to town while he performed Tribulations. He didn’t progress far in his Tribulations because of an… accident.” Nelisha sniffed, her eyes watering.

“I’ll talk to Thorren,” Elian said, thinking what his true motivation could be. Having lots of followers was obviously a lie. Maybe it had something to do with regaining his uncle’s honor.

Thorren ran up to them with a big grin and an even bigger pouch of coins. Nelisha tried to look happy, but Elian could tell she was already imagining the worst that might happen in the next Tribulation and the next one. Elian would find the time to talk to Thorren when they’d gotten closer. It was time he learned how to deal with people. His time travel rewind excuse was no longer available.

“What’s happening?” Elian said. They were walking away from the amphitheater when they met another large crowd of people heading to it. Elian and the red-headed family flattened themselves against the wooden side of a cookshop to let the praying horde pass. “Are they supporters of a popular Penitent?”

“They’re accompanying Priest Thalman,” Thorren shouted his explanation.

Was that the priest over there? People seemed to give way to the balding crown barely noticeable because of its owner’s short height. “Is he going to watch the Tribulations?”

“He helps us Penitents. Twice or thrice a week, he visits the Stages of Devotions. If he was around, all the Tribulations were guaranteed to be completed without issue. Once I was lucky to avail of his aid.”

“I didn’t know he’s such a nice guy.”

“Way better than Priestess Hazelheart,” said Nelisha with such spite that Elian was sure she had a personal bad experience with the intimidating priestess.

“Priest Thalman visits all the Stages of Devotions,” Thorren added. “Extends help to all.”

“How is he—?” Elian realized the answer. “His illusions. Or clones. Whichever is which.”

And it wasn’t only the amphitheaters that Priest Thalman visited. When Elian returned to camp, he learned from Borlen that the multiplying priest passed by there too, giving blessings to the people. Proselyting was so much easier for religion if one missionary could multiply himself into many copies to spread their beliefs.

“He talked to me, the good priest did,” said Borlen, his eyes sparkling with delight. He momentarily forgot his disdain of Stagnants, which included Thalman. “I unburdened myself to him. My heart feels lighter now.”

“That’s good, brother,” Elian said. “The priest told me to choose how to carry my burden. I’m not really sure what it means, but you’re the example. You chose to share your weight with him.”

“I suppose I did,” Borlen said. “The good priest also promised to let me borrow religious equipment. I might attempt to call another Tribulation.”

That night, Elian slept more soundly. The plant symbiont in his arm had settled down.

It was a good thing he rested peacefully that night because the peace of the Temples of Tribulation would be shattered in the coming days.