"Well, well, well... what do we have here?"

The voice that echoed through the cave was the one of a holy man, but not the kind one would find in the holy temples.

"I wonder, I wonder, I wonder... How did we manage to capture such a fine prize?"

Along with the voice, wet footsteps could be heard, closing in on the one who was listening. Eyes slowly opened, warm light from flames dancing along the cave walls provided vision, and the smoke the flames produced provided smell, but one sense was numbed:

Touch. The one who was listening could feel a faint cold from the back, as well as around the wrists and ankles. Looking, they appeared to be shackled. They still had their clothing on, but all weapons, tools, and other small objects were not where they were supposed to be.

"A gifted champion is supposed to be difficult to acquire, yet here you are."

The shrill voice from before had grown closer, and the man it belonged to was, in a word, unidentifiable. His entire body was covered in bright red cloth, his head was hooded, and his face was hidden behind a simple, metal mask. The only thing that stood out was an amulet hung from the man's neck. It portrayed a symbol in gilded metal. It was a symbol that the restrained champion was familiar with, because that same symbol was forever marked on their body.

"I see you noticed this. Yes, we worship the divine which protects you, gifted champion of Athalion."

Athalion, the blessed pegasus god, had bestowed its powers to this man, Arlo, at birth. Four years ago, when he had turned fifteen, he had been called away from his family to become a tool of the nation he lived in. The duke of the governing lands had sent retainers to recruit him and begin his training. After all, if someone had a gifted champion in their service, their political power would grow significantly. Of course, this was only true if the champion could hold his own in a conflict.

Arlo shook his head, trying to think what had happened for him to get captured. The last thing he remembered was that he had been on a mission for his duke, looking for a group of monsters that had been spotted deep in the forest of Kaiya. He had seen the monsters, but before he could engage them, he had fallen off his steed. He must've passed out because that was all he could remember.

He looked back up at his captor, the cultist who claimed to worship the blessed pegasus.

If he really worships my divine protector, why would he insult him by holding me hostage?

The cultist looked like he was studying Arlo's face, reading his reaction. He began laughing like only a madman could.

"I know, I know, I know what you're thinking! gifted champion, Allow me to answer your question!"

His arm rose. One bony hand revealed itself, clutching at the amulet he proudly wore like a medal. The cultist lifted it, and looked at it through his mask, transfixed. He spoke again, but his voice was calm.

"The gods are beings of unlimited power and wisdom. They deserve all the love we mortal beings can give..."

The fanatic paused, then dropped his amulet and violently thrust a pointed finger at Arlo. His calmness had disappeared, and his voice was shouting in anger:

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"Instead, all the champions, all you do, is gallivant around and ruin their name for the sake of some other mortal being! You do not deserve their power! You do not deserve their wisdom! You do not deserve their love!"

There were some traces of logic behind the unstable man's fanaticism. Through the decades, most champions had lost their religious purpose and had become more and more like tools for the noble classes of the world. Some still had their independence, but the nations of the world had begun making life as a champion increasingly more difficult in order to lure them over to their side.

The cultist retracted his hand and pointed it at himself, his outrage replaced with a proud proclamation:

"But I! I love Athalion with all my heart! I would gladly sacrifice a hundred people to become his loyal servant. After all, nothing is more important than serving the gods!"

"And what gives you the right to choose who is worthy?"

Arlo managed to squeeze out a sentence through his pained gasps for air.

*Smack*

"Be silent, holy usurper! You are the one who has no right! You do not love your master as I do!"

The masked man created distance after his slap, and his mood seemed to change again. He sat down, hugging his knees and shaking.

"Oh why, oh why, oh why couldn't Athalion choose me? Does he not know how much love I give him?"

A pause, and the cultist's body stopped shaking, and his voice grew irritated.

"Is he too blinded to notice my love because of this... filthy boy?"

He jumped up, new determination filling his body.

"No matter, no matter, no matter! As soon as the ritual is complete I will have his power!"

He turned his head. Arlo could faintly see an eye behind one of the slits in the man's mask.

Another few seconds of silence, and the cultist turned the rest of his body. Now in his hand was an object: a dagger.

Arlo couldn't see the man's expression, but he imagined he had an evil grin on his face. The madman approached slowly, toying with the dagger in his hand. As he was approaching, he spoke to Arlo in a voice so joyous it almost sounded like he was singing:

"Your captivity will only get worse and worse. We will torture you until you beg our god to relieve you of your powers and give them to me."

Behind the cultist, four other hooded men emerged from the shadows. They were also carrying various instruments in their hands. They wore the same red robe, but they wore no amulet, and their masks were wooden.

Arlo's unmoved expression must've triggered a reaction in the giddy fanatic, because he leaned in close and talked calmly once again, whispering as if he was telling a secret:

"Let's be honest, if you had given your powers freely this would have gone much smoother, yes yes yes..."

He paused and looked at his captive. Arlo beckoned him back as if it was his turn to tell the secret. The cultist leaned in, in anticipation. Calmly, Arlo proclaimed:

"I am Arlo, gifted champion of the blessed pegasus. Know that I will endure all pain, and no harm done to my body will convince me to give up my power to a crazed lunatic like you."

The cultist backed away from Arlo, and the cave fell silent for a while. Then, he started laughing hysterically.

"Well, well, well! In that case, we'll have to find someone to take the pain for you."

The cultist grew calm again and uttered another few words. Arlo grew pale, his eyes wide in surprise and distress. The question the cultist had asked had already been answered. The words he had spoken were:

"Tell me, usurper... Do you have a family?"