Today was another beautiful day in the middle of nowhere.

The forest was brimming with life once more, a stark difference to the dead silence of the night ruled by quiet, stalking night terrors. Birds flocked and frolicked, and critters skittered and scuttled.

Same old wooden labyrinth, just a lot brighter.

Today, the sun shone confidently in the sky, beaming down upon the land once more.

Once more, a boy rouses awake, alive.

In a small clearing in the woods, in a small makeshift tent, a boy lives another day, as a troubled Bishop looks after him. Puffs of smoke trail off past the tall canopy, the dying remnants of a campfire.

"You're awake." The tanned man says, his towering form casting a shadow over the boy.

"Am I?" A groggy voice asks with a shaky voice.

"Good question. You shouldn't be."

"Then you should've been there."

"You handled it, as I expected from you. Not to mention-"

"Not to mention, I want more sleep, but your head's shiny reflection was too distracting and are burning my eyes off."

A bit snarky, the boy was, yet he seemed to have inherited the man's impassive monotone way of speaking either way.

"You seem upset." Georges said, now taking a seat on a tree stump, willfully ignoring the boy's dastardly remark.

He'd been through enough, and he wasn't up for murdering a child this early in the day.

He'd make an exception, this time.

"I am not... I survived, it's over with."

"You live, yes."

"Is this the part where you scold me about how stupid I was?"

"Perhaps..."

The man grabs a stick from the remnants of the campfire, holding up a piece of thick beautifully charred meat. The boy starts to get up before being held down softly.

"I am not mad, child." He takes a bite as he lent his water canteen to the boy.

"Why?"

So full of questions this one.

"You prove time and time again why I absolutely must recruit you. You have the heart of an Inquisitor."

"What? I'm not gonna lie, I did something incredibly stupid back there... Not exactly a merit in my eyes." He pauses as he takes a sip, but before he can continue the Bishop stops him.

"Remember what I said, child."

"What did you say?"

'He's said so much already, what's he talking about' The pale boy thinks.

"Any adventurer, any warrior worth their salt can survive, but none can live like we do. Remember this child, and remember well, the difference is that they stoop low, scrounging at bits and scraps in order to see another day, an Inquisitor is not like that, we are not like that." He looks into my eyes, neither of us blink.

"In any and every situation, we live gloriously, with purpose, and we will never abandon our tenets, our commandments! It is either we live victorious, or we die with glory in one final stand. This is what it means to be an Inquisitor, we live and die with meaning, with value, with passion."

"..." A heart beats, thumping within the confines of its bony cage.

For the child, It was the first time he's ever raised his voice, the first time he's ever shown so much emotion, passion.

"Do you know why we can afford to live like this, child? To practically gamble our lives everyday?" He leans in, his irises shining the finest of gold.

The boy felt he knew the answer.

"Faith..."

"Because we believe! Why fear death when you believe deep in your heart you will live another day?"

"We believe... Can you really thrive off faith like that?"

The Inquisitor stands, looking down on the world as he lectures with passion.

"We are miracle workers, child. Do not forget that. Do not underestimate the power of belief, it shapes the world around us."

"Life and death are sides of the same coin. When either become meaningless, the other follows suit." He continued.

"..."

"..."

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"What's the point of telling me all this?" The boy's raspy voice could be heard.

"Because you look down on how you dealt with that situation. Yet you believed that was the right course of action at the time, and now look at you. Safe and sound. Alive. Better."

"How do you know it was faith, and not just dumb luck?"

Ah, there went the kicker.

Georges only looked at him, with a hint of amusement.

"I know it when I see it. And if that won't convince you, well... How do you think you were able to kill that monster?"

A tilt of a head was all the Bishop got.

"What are you implying exactly?"

"You bolstered the stone with faith, otherwise... victory would have never descended upon you." The Bishop revealed directly, as the Boy straightened in genuine surprise.

"You're saying-"

"Congratulations, you truly bear the potential to become an Exorcist. I was not mistaken after all."

- - - - -

"Where did you get this?" I look at the giant slab of meat my teacher casually handed me.

"Leftovers from yesterday's dinner." He replied, nonchalant as ever.

"I don't recall us having dinner yesterday."

"Not your dinner, my dinner. Courtesy of your hunt yesterday, you passed that assignment with flying colors."

"You ate monster meat?"

"So will you, this will get some meat back on your bones. I don't expect much growth considering your frame, but an Inquisitor must be strong no matter the circumstance."

"Is that not unsafe?" I question with widened eyes and a tilt of my head.

I mean, there must be a reason why there's a distinction between monster and animal, right?

"Large carnivores —which most monsters tend to be— have extremely tough flesh and hide from their natural strength and exercised muscles, and are known for hosting many parasites, but aside from that, most weaker monsters with low levels of mana saturation are completely safe to eat. Now, I suggest you refrain from being picky and eat your food."

"Speaking of, what are monsters exactly?"

Georges takes a long time to think, as he sits down before continuing.

"Think of it like this: If mortals can wield magic, then who can say animals cannot? Except, they do not wield magic in the traditional and systematic style that humans, elves, dwarves and even orcs use. An animal becoming a monster is usually dependent on genes, natural strength, and the density of magic in one particular area. If such conditions are met called Magicule saturation, they gradually mutate into a significantly stronger being capable of strong-arming its mana to use in combat, though they are usually more physical in nature."

"So they aren't entirely disconnected?"

"No, think of a monster as... a higher form of animal." He articulates.

"Earlier you mentioned mana and magicule saturation, I'm guessing there's a difference."

"There is, yes. Magicules refer to the magic energy naturally present in the world, and mana refers to the magical energy circulating within our bodies. Both are inter-connected, yet not entirely the same. You will be properly taught these lessons in Avalon City, for now I suggest you focus on eating your food." He gives me a knowing look.

He caught me.

I really don't want to eat this.

"Steel your resolve, banish your doubts, this is your prize. The victor feasts on the spoils."

I look at him blankly. I wasn't that hesitant, but he's starting to get on my nerves.

"Well... I thank Elysium above for this bounty, I am blessed to live another day." I offer a short prayer as I hesitantly dig into the slab of meat it was unceremoniously cut into.

I take a bite. Tastes like gamey, thick beef, a little sweet too. You know what? not too bad. I just hope my body isn't ridden with worms after this.

I finish my breakfast for the day as teacher walks back to the shelter where I was.

"Now, for you."

"What is that."

"Your trophy."

He hands me a giant folded bundle of something. It looked like fur, like hide. Did he skin the monster's pelt?

Sure enough, I turn the pelt over and unravel it to reveal the face of the monster I had slain with my very own slingshot. It's face was stuck in perpetual anger, as even in death, the mutilation I had wrought on its right eye was ever visible.

And now, it has been immortalized.

Its failure and subsequent death, and my victory and subsequent survival.

"I am very grateful, but what exactly do I do with this?" I look at the pelt with wonder, it looked so life-like, as if it still carried the beast's misgivings and emotions after death.

I feared it might even come to life and finish what it had started.

"Wear it." He said flatly, as if I was stupid.

I just stared at him incredulously, equal parts disbelief and absolute child-like wonderment.

I —as loathed as I am to admit— excitedly unfold the giant bundle of fur and hide with feverish intrigue.

The cloak with the hood of a panther's head was tall, almost as tall as I was, yet I still needed to grow into it before it actually looked like it fit me. I swiftly put it on my head and lined it up with my shoulders.

Warm and cozy.

"How do I look?" Is it as horrendous as I think it is?

"Like a spiteful hunter who really hated this monster in particular, enough to reduce it into winter clothing. Rather, take a look yourself." He said with a hint of mirth.

Out of nowhere, he pulls out a handheld mirror and points it at me.

Honestly, not as bad as I thought it would. You would think it would look goofy, but the hysterically angry animal face directly resting above my empty pearl-white eyes made me look a little more... interesting.

"You'll grow into it."

"Why do you have a mirror with you?"

"It is actually quite standard for Exorcists. Spirits and demons can be a bit... finnicky, helps with the unseen." He explains as he puts it away and starts kicking up soil into the long dead campfire.

He's already started removing our traces, that means we're leaving soon.

"Why'd you make this anyway?"

"As you might think, the Orthodoxy has an inherent fondness for tradition and sentimentality. It is a gift, as my mentors had once given to me, as well as a trophy, a reminder of your struggle."

I grab onto the hem of the pelt as I watch him get into a natural rhythm, in other words, I was watching him do all the work.

"You have one too?"

"I do. Each trophy differs from Inquisitor to Inquisitor. Some can be worn as armor like yours, others could have been used as a weapon component, or like mine, a medium for magic." He puts his hand forward, closing it.

When he opens it again, a hand-sized eyeball starts to float from his grasp, before being held back by a small chain attached to where its optic nerve should've been, connecting his hand and the eye. It shone golden like his own, and the veins in its sclera pulsed rhythmically.

"I specialize in perception magic. Scrying, compact enchanting and divining faith-based magic are what I am most proficient in. This is what remained of a particularly nasty flying monster." He clasps his hand once more, presumably stowing away the eye.

I wouldn't have expected the tall man with impressive musculature to be the scout or rogue type that's for sure.

"I have laced your own pelt with basic defensive and self-reconstruction inscriptions, it is enchanted, not that natural monster hide would need the added defense in the first place. Of course, I have left ample space for any future additions, should you one day wish to fortify it yourself." He continued.

"I really can't thank you enough, I don't know what to say..."

"Then don't. Prove to me you deserve to have triumphed over the one you now wear on your shoulders, make me proud as a teacher."

"Consider it done."

"I'd expect no less, child."

He looks to the dawning sky, and then to me.

"We will stay for a couple more hours. The hunt had you completely drained of all the mana in your body, if it weren't for that we'd have left by now."

"Are you gonna teach me how to wield faith?"

"Did I not just say you were completely drained of mana? Tame that excitement child, all in due time."