----------------------------------------

World: MSS - Loading...

----------------------------------------

I was going to church.

Well, the Church. One of it's branches anyways.

It stood on top of a hill that stood behind Miltus, overlooking both the City and the Slums which stood next to it. The entire building was painted with gray-white walls and mounted with elaborate structural decorations incorporating shapes such as circles and pointed arches. It stood anywhere between three or five stories high. I saw signs that this area might once have been inhabited by trees, but those were long gone. Being separated from the rest of civilization, I got the feeling of going away on a religious experience getaway.

“Empty yourself of darkness and sin. Only the Light will remain.” Kyrian muttered softly as we climbed the hill.

“A versssse from your beliefssss?”

Kyrian nodded but it was Aurora who answered.

“All those born in Turina undergo mandatory education regarding Church of Light, Flame and Shield.” She explained. “Most Churches are built like this. Separated from all other… clutter, to serve as a message. That they are the only true faith and set apart from the rest of the world.”

“What? They don’t eat, shit and sleep?”

Aurora shot a disdainful look at Stole and continued on her way.

Entering past the gates, we saw a member of the clergy who came out to meet us.

“Are you the Miltus Party?”

“Yes, we are.” Kyrian answered. “This is our identification papers, along with Marc Pointell’s signature.”

If Marc Pointell hadn’t been willing to pull the strings for us, we would never have gotten this gig. The Guild’s support was starting to come in handy already.

The priest-in-training checked all our identification then nodded, satisfied. “You are the last ones here. This way please”

Stole leaned towards me, whispering. “That’s our party’s name? Miltus Party? That’s a lameass name.”

“I didn’t have time.” I murmured, seeing Skaris shoot me a look as well. Aurora on the other hand didn’t show emotion. “Sorry.”

The priest-in-training checked all our identification. “This way please.”

“So… are we going to make a name for our party?” Stole began, her voice in a faux whisper. “Because I have a couple of ideas.”

“I’m not entirely sure that should be something we discuss right now.” I answered.

“No, Lock. A party’s name is important. I’ve been meaning to discuss it with you but we’ve all been too busy.” Kyrian shared a look with Stole, who beamed at him. “It should be something everyone decides upon together.”

“Permanent members only.” Stole said, shooting a look at Aurora.

“Is this something we need to do right now?” I didn’t want us to walk into a quiet room and be caught out talking about party names. First impressions were important and we were dealing with the Church. Aurora and Kyrian might have an idea, but for the rest of us this dealign with the Church was a new experience. We needed to be on our toes.

“Oh come off it.” Stole said. “I’ll go first. How about Shadow Walkers? Eh? Eh? Isn’t that fucking rad?”

“...”

“Sssscarlet Sssspear.”

“That literally describes only you, Skaris.” Stole pointed out.

“...then how about Ssspear Sssscarlet?”

“...”

“It should really reflect the party as a whole.” Kyrian reminded everyone.

Aurora chimed in. “The Last Pioneers. To mean that whereever we go, there would be no need to explore further, for we’ve uncovered all that is to be uncovered.”

“Permanent members only.” Stole said again, shooting a look at Aurora.

Aurora ignored the younger beastman girl and continued. “Perhaps the First Flagbearers, to mean the opposite, the first ones to step foot in a place. Or the Everwanderers. Or perhaps-”

All the names that Aurora were suggesting were inspired by adventurer parties from the Lore that I read. Could it be that she had a particular interest in the history of adventuring? Quite possibly, this could be her version of geeking out.

“Ms. Aurora, I had no idea you had an interest in… in naming parties.” Kyrian commented.

Even Skaris and Stole were looking at the usually stone faced Aurora in a new light.

Aurora coughed and I thought I detected a faint blush on her cheeks. “Simply suggestions.”

“Well, I suggest the Dark Knife.” Stole cut in.

“Err…” Kyrian looked to me for help.

“Can we please talk about this later?” I growled.

“But misterrrrr-”

“...We are here. Please open this door and enter. I’ll be on my way then.”

Thankfully the priest didn’t open the door and have all the people in the room hear what we were discussing. Here we were, about to take on a mission for the Church, which they failed by the way, and entering a life-or-death dungeon. Yet, all these four could talk about were what name the party should have.

Or maybe it was good that they weren’t too nervous.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Just because they’re not nervous doesn’t mean you should relax. They can goof around because someone has their head screwed on straight and it’s you, dolt.” I thought to myself.

I entered the room with my party members behind me.

We entered from the back of a church fellowship hall, a long elongated room with an altar at one end and pews set up in a semi-circle around the room. Upon a secondary inspection, there was a second floor with balcony seats looking down at the altar. There was no one on the second floor, not that I could see anyways.

On the altar were a row of people, most of them escaping my notice except two figures who were obviously in charge. One was a medium-height woman with jet black hair that hung down past her waist and a veil covering the top half of her face. She had on a black and white dress cinched at the waist with a silver metallic ring, complete with frills and laces with knee-high boots.

The man next to her was blonde and tall with broad shoulders. He was dressed in ornamental armor with a humongous bastard sword in his hands. Hair kept short and swept to the side with that stiff posture, definitely a Holy Knight of the church. If there ever was a posterboy for ‘good-looking-hero-knight’, this guy was it.

And he was sneering at us.

“You are late.” His voice was deep, words clipped with precision.

I waited for him to say something else but nothing came.

“Well?” He finally asked.

Oh, he wanted an excuse. Or submission.

Did I mention I hated bullies?

I should have apologized. A simple sorry could have placated him, instead I doubled down and stared into his baby-blue eyes, feeling my own eyes narrow in turn.

“Kyrian, are we late?”

Kyrian looked at his pocket watch. “We are 2 minutes early.”

“We’re not late. We’re-” I began.

“Keeping everyone waiting. Perhaps you weren’t aware due to your upbringing as a slave,” The knight’s words dripped with venom. “But for Adventurers, you are late the moment you are the last one to arrive.”

I frowned. How the hell did he know I used to be a Slave and why the hell would he bring it up now? “What did you-”

Someone tugged on my elbow; it was Aurora. She shook her head.

“...I apologize.” I managed to say through gritted teeth, quickly finding an empty pew to sit in. My party joined me.

The priestess on the stand next to the knight cleared her throat. “Thank you, Sir Zenom.”

“Lady Cecilia.” He gave her a slight bow and took a step back.

“As I was saying, you have all been brought here, recommended by your representative Branch Guild Masters.” She smiled, turning her head to greet each of us. “Welcome.”

“My name is Cecilia Lightridge, Head Priestess of this Church. I would like to thank you all for attending.”

Cecilia began to talk about the history of the Church and its esteemed members of this branch who would be participating in this raid. Nothing about the dungeon or the Relic that we would be looking for just yet. So I took the time to look around.

There were three other parties besides ours, too many for my liking.

We had passed one group on the way in because they sat way in the back. All of them wore hoods and had used some obfuscation spell to conceal their faces within the cowl. There were a total of five of them, just like us. No weapons that I could see out in the open for now.

Ok, no information to be had there.

‘I’ll call them the Cowl Party.’ I told myself.

“Lock, that group… they’re all Scions.” Kyrian whispered to me.

Looking at the people that Kyrian referred to, I was surprised to find that a familiar face stood out to me.

Dorocian.

After my fight in the arena with her, I hadn’t heard from her again, nor any news of Parthenon. She didn’t seem the type to hold a grudge but it wasn’t like we were friends either. Still, it wasn’t the best feeling to see her here and knowing that moving forward, I’d be forced to work together with someone that I’d humiliated on the public stage. I could only hope that there wasn’t a situation coming up where my back could be used for target practice.

She sat on a pew with Gurran and four others, all of them human, that I’d never met before. She and Gurran looked straight ahead, their backs straight and expression grim. Probably paying attention to the Priestess.

I promptly named them the Scion Party in my mind.

The last group looked like the typical adventurer’s party you could meet anywhere. A plain human who was obviously not listening, fiddling with his daggers, two elves, a dwarf and a beastman. Every one of them was unremarkable in every way. The only one who stood out to me was the beastman, a massive man from the deer-tribe with antlers the size of a small child. Whenever he shifted in his seat, the wooden pew creaked and groaned.

Huh. I thought the Church wouldn’t allow non-humans to participate or atleast actively oppose Beastman and Orcs. I guess they could be called ‘Party A’.

“And that’s all from me. Sir Zenom will explain the rest.” Cecilia stepped aside, giving the stage to Zenom, the knight who harassed me for being ‘late’.

“My name is Zenom Saintred.” He passed his glare around to each of us, making sure all of us were more than uncomfortable.

“Friendly guy.” Stole whispered.

“Your job will be to aid the church in recovering a [Relic].” He continued, his red cloak draping over his broad shoulders and flowing down. The man was a natural public speaker and cut an imposing figure. “The Dungeon is in the form of a temple on an island, sixty miles off of the Shore of the Jayu States. On the way, we will be passing through the Wild Straits.”

I hissed. Much louder than I wanted to.

Zenom just looked at me.

“Is that a problem?”

Damn it. I might as well try.

“The Wild Straits are also home to one of the largest orc hordes on the continent, the Bada Horde.” I stated, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

Public speaking? Not my strong suit.

“Get to the point.”

“Did the Church send an emissary for permission to cross their territories?”

“We do not negotiate with pirates.” Zenom’s face was blank, but he couldn’t quite hide the disdain from his voice.

Of course they didn’t. The Turina Empire looked down on everyone that wasn’t humans. I bet it was humiliating for the Church to even hire adventurers at all.

“But if you don’t have permission, the Horde will take it as an attack. It’s their land. And the orcs aren’t just pirates. It’s their culture, if you would just send an emissary-”

“Silence.” Zenom slashed the air with his hand. “The Light does not need permission to shine upon the land. Neither does the Flame to burn, nor the Shield to defend the innocent.”

Once again, he was waiting for my answer.

And I realized suddenly that every single adventurer’s eyes were fixed on me.

I suddenly felt very small in this room.

But I couldn’t be small. I had Aurora, Stole, Kyrian and Skaris who entrusted me with their lives. The whole reason they could goof off about Party Names in the first place was because they trusted me, they trusted me to get us through this alive. I had no idea what made Aurora and Stole place their faith in me, but they did.

Yeah, the life of an adventurer was fraught with peril and the mortality rate was something we walked with. But it didn’t mean we had to be negligent with it. Even just careful planning or sending a messenger like I suggested could prevent useless fighting, savings lives. Both ours and the Orcs.

It didn’t matter how much I wanted to know about the [Player’s Guild] and Dibo’s dad. The people next to me came first. There were plenty of other dungeons we could go into and conquer. No matter what this Relic was, it wasn’t worth walking into a death trap led by a man who was too caught up in his religion to bother thinking about the lives he was responsible for.

Zenom Saintred was one of those types. The typical hero of the story who left nothing but collateral damage and corpses in his wake. Who believed that he was doing the ‘right thing’.

There is nothing more dangerous than an incompetent man who believes he is doing the ‘right thing’.

I had to pull us out of this.

“Then-”

“Do not worry, Adventurer.” Ceilia chimed in. “We won’t be going directly across the Straits. The ships we chartered will skirt the edges of Horde Territory. We haven’t experienced any danger either.”

I swallowed the words that had been on the tip of my tongue.

“Does that satisfy you?” Her voice, mellow and high-pitched, something I’d hear from a Saintess –which wasn’t too far off from Priestess I guess– then addressed everyone else in the room. “You all came highly recommended. I’d hate to have…” She paused, thinking of the right word. “Trouble,” she finally decided on the word and pointedly looked at me, “in the first meeting.”

Welp, so much for first impressions.

“This is the cream of the crop?” Stole looked around, her ears perked up. “They don’t look too…”

“Balance.” Kyrian answered the young Pioneer, his voice equally low. “The Church needs a mixture of Strength and Stealth. If they gathered all the strongest adventurers they could find, it might garner unwanted attention.”

Kyrian was right but forgot to mention one thing. The Church needed us to be strong, but not too strong as to run off with the relic.

“It’s good with me.” I sat down, rubbing my sweaty palms together.

“You did well.” Aurora greeted. “I’m sure the other Adventurers were wondering the same thing but did not have the guts to ask.”

“They are rissssking their livesss.” Skaris muttered. “A foolissssh decision, we are lucky to have Sssslaveborn.”

“They did not ask, because it’s Zenom Saintred.” She answered.

I picked up a note of respect in Aurora’s voice, something rare. “Is he famous?”

“Even I know him.” Kyrian muttered. “He was elevated to Knighthood by the Bishop himself, after saving his village from a Monster Wave at the young age of sixteen. He has been trained by the church since then and if public records are to be believed, he’s never failed a mission. Ever.”

“Isss he the sssstrongessst?” Skaris was eyeing the young knight who was explaining the logistics.

“...No. But probably one of the strongest of his generation and definitely most influential.” Aurora allowed. “Many of these people are taking the risk, knowing that with Zenom it will be a success.”

“Lock could beat him, I bet.” Stole sniffed.

“...I'll take that bet against you, Stole.” I whispered.

I could tell.

Because when Zenom Saintred used his hands, it was full of fat red welts, calluses on top of calluses. Plus, his armor and sword weren’t just decoration. I could see age-old scratches, dents and other damages accumulated throughout the years. No matter how good a smith was, they couldn’t get rid of every little sign of battle. The fact that this Zenom Saintred was using these in the first place meant he was used to them, a sign of an active warrior.

Plus… if he was a Holy Knight…

He’d be able to use [Aura].

“Now,” Zenom said, his gaze fixed pointedly at me. “I will take questions.”

Immediately, the human from ‘Party A’ lifted his hand.

Zenom nodded to him.

“Delas Ender.” He began by introducing himself, “What is this [Relic]? Whatever this thing is, we have to recognize it when we see it? Yeah?”

Zenom shared a look with Cecilia and the priestess walked up to the podium once more.

“It is a necklace with an amulet in the shape of a maple leaf. The amulet itself is a mixture of metal and stone, tinged red. We will go over more once we are at the Island itself.”

I jolted like someone shocked me.

“Ssslaveborn?”

There was no way. This couldn’t be.

I raised my hand.

“...Yes?” Zenom had seemed reluctant to allow me to speak.

“What is the name of the island?” I rushed out.

“There is no official name for the island.” Unlike how I was feeling, Cecilia was calm. Too calm. “But we have started to call it the Claw Nest. On account of all the beast-type Monsters that inhabits the area.”

I sat down as something went ‘click’ in my brain, like the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle I was finishing just got completed.

It all made sense now. The Turina Empire taking over the Samak Desert, using the Slave Trade as an excuse. If they really wanted to trade slaves, they could’ve done it without massacring the Samak Horde and their people. What they really needed was the location and freedom in that area without anyone asking questions.

Because the necklace they were talking about, it wasn’t a normal [Relic].

It was one of many Keys.

One of the keys to open the tomb of one of the [Six Heroes].

…Key to waking the [Autarch], buried beneath the Samak Desert.

…The Turina Empire was readying itself for War.

And I was going to be a part of it.

----------------------------------------