“Come on, just this once.”

A young man's pleading voice barley rose above the tavern's boisterous patrons. He sat at the counter, on his seventh attempt to get a drink, only to face rejection again.

“Please, I just want to try it one time.”

“Wait until next year.”

“I'm 19! And you know there won't be a next year for me.”

His voice was barely a whisper as tears gathered in his eyes.

“...Sigh, fine. It'll still cost ya.”

With clear reluctance, the bartender acquiesced, eliciting a concealed grin from Mikhail. The bartender then presented him with a wooden mug containing the finest cocktail in town.

“Bottoms up!”

He fervently took a swig, and the moment it touched his lips, he knew for certain that the rumors were true.

Mikhail, forgetting to savor the drink, downed it in mere seconds. Exhaling a long sigh of relief, he let his body relax as the empty mug hit the counter.

However, when the novelty wore off, he realized he didn't have the money to pay for the drink.

𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘫𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘥?

Immediately dismissing the thought, he scanned the tavern, then glanced at his sides.

A visibly irritated grandfather in his sixties grumbled angrily to himself on his left. While on his right, a huge bald man unsuccessfully tried to court a disinterested waitress.

After ensuring no one was watching, Mikhail grabbed his mug. He took a moment to reconsider but chose to follow through. Then, he smashed it on the bald man's shiny head and lightly tapped the senior on the left, before ducking low to the floor.

The two men turned to each other.

“Tch! What a mess you've made.”

But it was the grandfather's brash comment that riled the air. The bald man's meaty fist roughly met with the senior's face, sending him sprawling and causing his drinks to spill onto a nearby table. This triggered a cascade of aggression, plunging the entire bar into chaos as inebriated men engaged in a brawl.

𝘎𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦? 𝘔𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘨𝘰.

Mikhail deftly moved through the crowded tavern, while also skillfully relieving a few unsuspecting patrons of their valuables.

As he discreetly exited from the lively establishment, his eyes caught sight of a woman selling exquisite jewelry on the bustling street. He decided to get one as a gift before making his way back home.

After making his purchase, the woman handed him a small piece of paper. It was folded into a triangular shape and adorned with an eye on the back.

A minor fortune.

He thanked her, tucking it deep into his left pocket and carrying on with his journey.

A voice rose in anger; someone let out a laugh; a horse snorted and neighed. The mare's bridle jingled as he calmly passed, holding his nose as the faint odour of manure was locked in the air.

While strolling through town, his attention was drawn by a group of soldiers pushing a cart filled with unfamiliar books towards the grand town hall.

After a few minutes, a picturesque hillside came into view. Mikhail was soon met with the sight of an old weathered chapel standing proudly on top.

Suddenly, he had an intense sense of nostalgia wash over him, causing him to whisper:

“Home sweet home.”

One small steeple reached upward to the sky, with stained glass windows—many of which were broken—dotting the shell of the grey stone building, yet it still kept out the cold. Mikhail's heart raced as he quickened his pace towards it.

As he pushed open the chapel door, he called out softly, “Evalina?”

He gently closed the heavy wooden door behind him. He then carefully placed the bags from his impromptu shopping spree on the aged wooden pews before venturing further inside.

At the back of the room, an altar adorned with a half-broken statue caught his eye.

The figure kneeling in front of the damaged idol was a young girl. Her presence was serene and saintly.

“Every day on the dot.”

Mikhail chuckled to himself quietly.

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘰𝘰—𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺-𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴... 𝘈𝘩, 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Her lashes fluttered as she took in the room, her gaze ultimately settling on Mikhail. With graceful movements, she made her way towards him, her pace unhurried but purposeful.

“Welcome home. Hhm? Where did you get the funds for such lavish things? Surely you did not revert to your old habits of stealing from the drunken revellers at Dunslough,” she chided gently, her concern evident in her tone.

Mikhail merely shrugged, his carefree demeanor contrasting with the seriousness of her words.

“Does it really matter? It's much better spent with us than those fuckers.”

“It is a matter of principle,” she admonished softly, her gaze unwavering.

“And mind your language, this is holy ground.”

At the sound of her scolding, Mikhail started to feel a bit guilty. This feeling was quickly overshadowed when he remembered the item he bought on his way.

Suddenly, he got behind Evalina and held her in place.

After a few seconds, they stood facing each other again. However, Evalina now wore a simple silver sun necklace.

“Do you like it?”

“It's beautiful, thank you. But I—”

“Oh no, you don't. I didn't steal that one; I just had to beg.”

𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩.

“You deserve it, Eva. Think of it as an early birthday present. Besides, we might not get another chance to do something like this.”

“Fine, I'll take it. Though I don't have anything to give you in return.”

“That's alright. I don't want anything, except a hug?”

Evalina rolled her eyes playfully before rising onto her tiptoes and tightly embracing him. He wondered if she had been outside, due to the pleasant warmth of her arms around his neck.

They lingered in that moment for what seemed like forever before they finally separated.

Mikhail watched as she flashed him a smile before turning to inspect the bags he had brought. Sighing wistfully, he made his way towards the very back of the room, stopping next to the half-broken statue.

Drawing closer, he noticed a dusty rug at his feet, which he carefully moved, revealing a hidden hatch. He opened it, revealing a secret storage area that had been refurbished into a hidden bedroom. The room was small and only illuminated by a few lit candles.

He climbed down and a few steps ahead, his reflection beckoned from a long mirror.

Jet-black hair that was tied back, piercing dark blue eyes and a simple black shirt that clung to his tanned, athletic frame. However, it was the number thirteen tattooed on his neck that sparked most people's curiosity.

𝘚𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴... Mikhail thought to himself.

He had grown up his entire life with this tattoo. People had always asked him on multiple occasions when he got it, but, as far as he was aware, he was born with it.

And while it was too perfect, Evalina had even tried to pass it off as a very weird birthmark.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘵.

After a few minutes, Mikhail quickly washed up and grabbed two large backpacks suitable for travel. He then reached for a small, gleaming silver knife.

As he gazed upon his reflection in the blade, repressed memories began to surface.

His past had been nothing short of unjust. He was left at an orphanage, only to be cast out onto the streets, where survival meant resorting to theft and being constantly vigilant.

Amidst this bleak existence, a beacon of light emerged in the form of Eva. She taught him to read, nursed him back to health and even gave him his current name.

𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦.

From then on, he vowed to repay her - even if it meant lying, cheating and stealing till his last breath to keep her safe. Over the next seven years, they struggled, but their bond slowly grew stronger and despite the hardships, they endured.

Yet, their hard-earned stability was now meaningless.

𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦? 𝘖𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵?

The two would soon have to prove their worth by overcoming a test, or die in the process. Although Mikhail knew little about the first Ordeal, he knew what it was commonly called by experienced Disciples.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Mikhail could only let out a deep sigh.

“So much for Gods being merciful.”

A distinct cracking sound reverberated throughout the dimly lit room, halting his progress towards the exit. Mikhail slipped the dagger into his pocket and looked down.

Shattered glass was strewn across the floor, remnants of a past money-making scheme.

This prompted an exasperated click of his tongue.

He had a strange talent for creating mixtures. On one occasion, he had made something called fungal brew, crafted from strange algae from the canal, the liquid within, and certain fungi. It tasted horrendous, but still caused enough damage to serve its purpose and earn him money.

𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘌𝘷𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦. 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭... 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴.

Rather than engaging in a moral argument with her over his beliefs, he chose to simply stop producing the brew.

At that moment, his mind was seized by searing pain.

𝘈𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘨𝘨𝘩! Mikhail swore and almost collapsed to his knees. However, being spurred on by thoughts of Evalina, he climbed out and rushed to her as she lay on the ground.

She desperately clung to him tightly and whispered, “It hurts... Mikhail.”

He cursed the so-called revelation and did his best to comfort her, while trying to ignore his own headache.

“Relax, it will be over soon.”

Fortunately, he was proven correct. As abruptly as it had appeared, the pain vanished, leaving behind an unsettling calm. In the eerie stillness, the tolling of three solemn bell chimes pierced the air.

𝘎𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘨! 𝘎𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘨! 𝘎𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘨!

𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘵, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦!

While lost in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, Mikhail realized the urgency of reaching town hall before the impending Ordeal started.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯.

“M-Mikhail? What do we do?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked instead, helping her up carefully.

After a long moment of silence, he was immediately relieved to see her nod confidently. The throbbing ache in his head faded into insignificance. He then rose to his feet and packed their bags, ensuring they had everything they would need.

“Get ready, we need to get to the town hall.”

“Alright.”

Shortly after, a young man with tied-back hair and '13' tattoo on his neck emerged from a chapel. Beside him, a young girl with flowing brown hair clutched her necklace.

Evalina's eyes flickered back to the chapel, filled with a mournful but resolute expression.

“Don't worry. We'll be back.”

Mikhail extended his hand with a reassuring smile. He was determined not to let them become sacrificial pawns for the God's. She regarded him quietly, her expression full of conflicting emotions.

Ultimately, she reached out and took his hand in hers.

“Okay.”

With those short yet weighty words, the two set off towards the town hall.