“You preach righteousness, claiming that one's strength must be used for good, all while slaughtering those who disagree with you. You call them heretics, blasphemers, sinners. You preach that it is your divine right, your divine duty, to bring them to justice through a heinous death. Well, here I am. The greatest heretic of all. And all you can do is cower in fear. How pathetic.” - Cin Coperus, at the Massacre of Tryton, in the year 599 A.C.

A young man, appearing to be around fourteen years old, stood in the sky, floating hundreds of feet above the city below. From this height, all the

people living there, going about their day looked like scurrying ants. The young man stared down at the city and its inhabitants, a complex look in his

silver eyes. “I wonder how they’ll greet me after so long.” He said, before vanishing.

Today was the last full day of the school year. The tournament had concluded yesterday, with those like me, who had been knocked out before they

could finish all of their fights, coming back after the first day. I had fought three more battles, and lost all three. Tomorrow, there would be a farewell

ceremony in the morning, and then everyone would depart to go back to their homes. That meant that today was the day when one needed to pack all

their belongings to be ready to leave. “So why are we here?” I asked quietly. We were in the library at the Cathedral of Miracle, the largest church in the

city, and therefore the world. Seeing our school uniforms, the guards had let us in with a warning that we weren’t allowed to access the books stored in

the basements below. “Because I want to find a new water spell to practice over the summer recess.” Makus replied. He had dragged Reina and I here,

interrupting our packing. “Why couldn’t you just look in the academy library?” Reina asked. “I already have, and nothing really grabbed my attention.”

“And why have you dragged me here?” I asked. “Because you’re better than me at the Sacred Tongue.” Makus replied. I sighed, expecting that answer.

The Sacred Tongue was the language passed down by the First Preacher that was used to cast spells. Out of the three of us, I was by far the most

fluent, something that endlessly infuriated Reina. Being the daughter of a Cardinal, she was under the impression that she should be better at the

Sacred Tongue than me, the son of a Duke in the Caerin Kingdom. Not that my superiority in the language did me much good. Without an affinity, I

couldn’t cast spells anyway. “Do you know what spell you want to learn?” I asked. Makus shook his head. ‘Great. We’ll be here all day.’

Sure enough, it took hours of searching before Makus found a spell he wanted. Based on its description, I thought that it would be a good match for

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him. The spell was designed to produce a large body of water that would then spin at high speeds, creating a whirlpool that would drag victims towards

Makus at the center. Sitting down at a table, I then began helping Makus with the pronunciation. “Without using mana, try to say the chant correctly.” I

instructed. Makus nodded, before saying “Lovum Vorago Erenis.” I stared at him in disbelief, before facepalming. “This is going to take forever.” I

muttered. Before I could correct Makus’s egregious mispronunciation, however, something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Walking

through the labyrinth of bookshelves was a young man, younger than me, dressed in all black. At his waist was a longsword. “Hey.” Reina called out.

Turning, the young man, almost a boy, faced us. “Weapons aren’t allowed in here, so if you have any respect for the rules of the Church, you better go

and surrender your sword to the guards out front.” The young man stared at us, before breaking out into a playful smile. “Oh, you don’t have to worry

about that. I’m an atheist, you see.” Standing up, I glanced at Reina and Makus, who shared my look of confusion at the unfamiliar word. Noticing this,

the young man asked “Do you not know what that word means?” Makus shook his head. “That’s a pity.” The young man said. “It's a really good word.

Shame they’ve gotten rid of it. Well, by definition it means a nonbeliever, but when I said I was an atheist, I also meant that I was a heretic, someone

who engages in blasphemy and sacrilege on a recreational basis.” He explained politely, a trace of amusement clear in his voice. I couldn’t help but

grow fearful at his words. ‘Something is wrong.’ Judging by the growing looks of caution on Reina and Makus’s faces, they too realized it. ‘Something is

seriously wrong.’ Observing the young man, I saw that his clothes were remarkably similar to mine. The uniform of the Sacred Academy of Mana

consisted of a white jacket over a black undershirt and white pants. Embroidered on the jacket was the symbol of the Church, a pair of open hands

cupping what looked like a sun, but was supposed to represent a mana core. Although not all students of the academy entered the clergy, many did,

and as such the school uniform was modeled after the uniforms of clergy members. Priests wore azure jackets, Bishops wore dark blue ones,

Archbishops wore yellow jackets, Cardinals wore red, Gods wore purple, and the Pope wore golden robes. These were the colors representing each

rank within the Church's hierarchy. The young man in front of us was not wearing any of those colors. Instead, he wore a black jacket, embroidered in

silver thread with skeletal hands cupping a shattered sun. It seemed a mockery of the uniform of the clergy. ‘Something is seriously wrong here.’ The

power of the Church was absolute. No one would go about proclaiming themselves a heretic and a blasphemer. “In that case,” Reina said, “We’ll have

to turn you into the Inquisitors. Please do not resist.” Reina and Makus began empowering themselves with mana. ‘No.’ I thought. ‘Don’t.’ The dreadful

realization had stunned me into speechlessness. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. “Is that so?” The young man said, the smile sliding off his face,

revealing nothing but indifference. The cold glint in his silver eyes sent shivers down my spine. Reina took a step forward before freezing in place.

Makus and I both, like her, were also frozen. Waves of terror battered us, as the very air twisted and trembled, as if trying to strangle us. Every instinct

in my body was screaming at me to run, to flee, but I couldn’t. Instinctually, I lowered my head. ‘Don’t look. You mustn't look.’ It felt like a mountain was

pressing into my chest, choking me. My heart struggled to keep beating, to keep me alive. I’d felt the power of a God before, but never like this. For

there was no denying it now. The young man standing in front of us was the Papicide, the Heretical Swordsman, the Saintkiller, the Immortal

Blasphemer, the Irredeemable. The God of Death, Cin Coperus, had graced us with his presence. And now, we were going to die.