The church stood as a timeless emblem of the northerners' resilience, having withstood wars, plagues, and the unyielding trials of their severe climate. It served as a sanctuary, where unity and shared faith offered comfort and eased the burdens of life.

Upon seeing the church's imposing structure, citizens instinctively bowed their heads in reverence, a tradition passed down through generations.

Baurous's church architecture embodied their faith's essence. Built from rough, irregular stones bound with reinforced clay, the distinctive hexagonal roof tiles were crafted from wood and mud mixed with special soil, tempered by a magical stone from the region's depths.

Yet, the ornate windows and doors, with their intricate designs and floral artistic frames, truly captivated onlookers, adding cultural richness to the city. The spacious, meticulously maintained courtyard offered a serene public space for reflection and contemplation.

However, what caught Brian and Asdras's attention was the exorcist and the old man being led through the courtyard-lined hallway.

Brian nudged his friend, whispering, "Did you see the scar on his left hand?"

Asdras nodded. "And the hidden weapon in his sleeves?"

As they neared the center of the hallway, the old man, who had been silent until now, suddenly cried out sharply. He struggled against the exorcist's firm grip, broke free, and ran toward a nearby tree.

Breathing heavily, his voice cracked as he shouted, "He approaches! He approaches! The shadow-clad specters shall wreak havoc upon us all!"

The once-quiet area erupted into chaos, a breach of decorum unheard of in these hallowed halls. Priests and onlookers rushed toward the man, forming a tight circle around the unfolding scene.

"Damn it—"

Asdras clutched his chest, his heart pounding, nearly collapsing to his knees. He leaned heavily against the wall, gasping for breath.

"Hey, what's going on?"

He awoke in a room filled with the scent of wax and incense, a sweet yet sharp aroma lingering in the air, occasionally making him cough. He lay still, the soft linen sheets beneath him contrasting with the firm, old mattress.

His eyes opened to a chamber bathed in candlelight. Shadows danced across the stone walls, their shapes irregular, and flickering flames reflected off a polished brass cross mounted high above.

A long, narrow window stood slightly ajar, letting in a chilly breeze that carried the scent of the outdoors — a mix of earthiness and steam mingled with the sweet aroma of fresh bread from somewhere nearby.

The room was modest, furnished with a simple wooden chair and a small, unadorned table with a ceramic pitcher and bowl. A threadbare rug lay beside the bed, its edges frayed from generations of use.

Asdras tried to move, to rise from the bed, but his limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. A soft groan escaped his lips, sounding strange and unfamiliar even to him. On his second attempt, the door to the room creaked open.

Light from the corridor spilled in, casting a broader glow. He squinted against the sudden brightness, a surge of uncertainty washing over him. In the doorway stood a silhouetted figure, backlit by the stark light, with a wooden staff being the only discernible detail.

"Ah, I see you're awake. That's excellent!"

Asdras attempted to speak coherently, but his words came out garbled. "Who are you?" He soon gave up and sank back into bed, his head angled to get a better look at the newcomer.

The man chuckled warmly as he approached a nearby chair. "I'm Elias, the bishop."

Elias was an unassuming elderly man, one who could easily blend into any gathering of the devout without drawing a second glance. His face bore the marks of age, a roadmap of wrinkles etched by a lifetime of devotion.

Though he had little more than a dusting of white hair left on his head, it receded gracefully, leaving a polished bald crown. Despite his years, his smile was friendly and inviting, as if he held a hidden joy known only to himself.

What set him apart were his robes. They were a deep, nearly black shade of dark blue that seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Intricate patterns of gold adorned the rich fabric, forming elaborate spirals and geometric shapes reminiscent of the courses of rivers on a war map.

He had one blind eye, milky and vacant, in stark contrast to the other, which sparkled with a clear and piercing blue hue.

Elias made a calming gesture, encouraging Asdras to relax. "Take a deep breath. I imagine you have many questions, young one. I would if I were in your shoes."

Asdras remained tense, his eyes fixed on Elias. Whether from natural caution or deeply ingrained beliefs, his guard stayed firmly in place.

"Don't worry, your friend Brian is fine. He's likely having a meal in the dining hall now. Oh, but there's something else I nearly forgot."

Elias rose from his chair and approached Asdras, his hand steady despite his advanced age. As his palm faced Asdras, a white glow began to emanate, unfurling like steam from a cauldron, ethereal and otherworldly.

The luminous energy danced through the air, a silent ballet of healing that formed a connection between Elias and Asdras. It swirled and surged, weaving through the emptiness until it met Asdras's forehead with a gentle, pale touch. The room dimmed, surrendering its colors to the instant and casting everything else into a soft, shadowy haze.

Then, as suddenly as it had gathered, the glow burst forth in a brilliant flash, dissipating its energy into the void.

Asdras felt a rush of intense warmth flooding his body, not searing, but cleansing. Revitalized, he opened his eyes — clearer and brighter — and with newfound strength, he cleared his throat.

"What was that?"

Elias settled back into his chair, his eyes holding a knowing twinkle as he observed Asdras's reaction.

"That's an intriguing question, my young friend. It seems you're drawn to the mysteries of the world. Convenient. As for your query, it pertains to my awakening power."

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"Awakening?"

Elias nodded. "We'll discuss it another time. I'm confident that during your time at the academy, you'll gain a deeper understanding of it."

On his third attempt, Asdras managed to sit on the edge of the bed, his body contorting and angling to the left.

"How do you know?"

Elias smiled, retrieving a letter from his robe and placing it on the table for Asdras to see.

"Your friend handed me a letter, and by the grace of Saint Rose, it was from an old comrade of mine, Joe."

"Do you know him?"

"Indeed, we're close in age, though I find myself nearing my heavenly duties. But, returning to your query, he mentioned a remarkably curious, clever, and formidable fighter eager to enroll in the academy. Am I on the right track?"

Whether it was intuition or a reminder of his goal, Asdras glanced at his cursed hand and replied, "You're right, your holiness."

Elias shook his head, a wry smile playing at his mouth.

"No," he replied. "Holiness' is too formal for my liking. 'Sir' will do just fine."

"Right, sir!"

Elias turned his attention to Asdras's hand. "I imagine you're searching for information about your hand. It's rather intriguing."

Asdras raised his hand toward the beam of light streaming through the window, the crimson crow emblem glowing faintly in his palm.

"Do you know anything about it, sir?"

Elias tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table and leaned back, stretching his neck. "Indeed, I do. Curses are complex and paradoxical. Let me pose a question: throughout the ages, countless murderers have used knives as their weapon of choice. Should the church or military then forbid the use of knives?"

"No, sir," Asdras replied without hesitation. "If we did, life would become much harsher. It's not the knife that's the problem; it's the intentions of the one who wields it."

"You're perceptive, and old Joe knows how to say a prayer that rings true. You're right. The same principle holds for curses. It's not your fault to be born with one, and it doesn't damn you to hell. Your path may be more challenging, but like that knife, it can be wielded for noble purposes."

"How so?"

Elias sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of his robe bore down on them. "Much of what I might reveal could pose difficulties for you."

Asdras scratched his head, remembering Raffin's words: "Would it implicate my awakening?"

Elias's eyes glinted with surprise. "Oh, who told you that?"

"Raffin, the deliverer."

"A fine man, Raffin, twenty-eight years old yet possessing a wisdom that belies his years. And you're correct. But what I can share is that your future may prove to be as demanding as it is intriguing. Cursed weapons are a mark of greatness, and contrary to popular belief, they aren't as common as the tales suggest. This leads us to a related topic — what do you know about exorcists?"

"Not much, sir. Only the tales. They hunt criminals for the church, like that old man. But why?"

Elias made a silent prayer: "God rest his soul, poor man."

He then stood up and produced a dark copper token with an eye etched at its heart.

"Catch," he nimbly threw it toward Asdras, who clumsily caught it with his left hand.

"What are your thoughts on joining the Exorcists after graduating from the Academy?"

Asdras studied the token, a faint blue light glowing in the iris as the piercing light crossed its frame.

"I don't understand, sir."

Elias shrugged nonchalantly as he opened the door. "No need to decide right away. First, go to the academy, see if it interests you, and if it does, seek me out. Becoming one of us might be the best path to understanding your curse."

Asdras met Elias's gaze, and after a moment, nodded. "Okay, sir, I'll think about it. Thank you."

As Elias was on his way out of the room, he offered, "You're welcome, young one. Oh, it seems your friend is on his way. Rest well, and may God's blessings be upon your soul."

Brian bounded into the room, careful not to spill a drop from the bowl he cradled. The meal's aroma filled the space.

A savory lamb stew, its meat tender and glistening from hours of slow cooking, filled the room with a rich, enticing aroma. The scent of rosemary and thyme mixed with earthy herbs, creating a tantalizing melody that teased the senses. Each piece of meat was bathed in a golden broth, capturing the essence of the lamb and the sweetness of caramelized onions.

He set the bowl on the table and studied Asdras. "You alright, mate? I brought you some food."

The scent made Asdras's stomach rumble, and he nodded as he approached the table.

"Thank you, I'm okay now. The bishop used his power on me."

Brian's eyes widened. "Did you see his power? What was it like?"

Asdras ate heartily as he tried to entertain his friend. "It was amazing! It felt like a light fire bathing you."

Brian sat on the bed, his shoulders hunched over his knees. "Gosh, I can't wait for the day when we finally awaken our powers."

Asdras paused, remembering something that had been plaguing him. "What happened to me?"

Brian scratched his nose as he recounted, "I'm not sure, mate. One moment, you keeled over after that old guy lost it. Then, the exorcist rushed to your side and asked to fetch the bishop, carrying you to this room."

Brian burst into hearty laughter. "Oh, mate, you should've seen yourself getting carried like a damsel in distress!"

"Cut it out," Asdras snorted. "Then what happened?"

"Then the bishop showed up. I recall the letter falling to the ground, you know, the one Raffin gave us. So, I handed it to His Holiness," Brian said, peering out the window.

"It was peculiar. Initially, he seemed focused on you, but once he saw that letter, he stopped dead and read it carefully. Then, he let out a laugh like I've never heard from an old timer before, maybe old Joe on a good day."

"After that, he made sure you were alright before chatting with me. And guess what happened next?"

Asdras savored his meal slowly. "What?"

Brian spread his arms wide, grinning. "He offered me a spot in a special military unit. The Crazy Dogs!"

"Crazy Dogs?"

"Absolutely! They're the muscle of the North's military. He warned me it's a real test, but you know me, I've never turned down a challenge. So, I said yes!"

"Congratulations, Brian! That's amazing news. He offered me something too."

"Are you considering joining the military too?"

"No, he gave me an Exorcist token and offered me a spot after I graduate from the academy."

Brian scratched his head thoughtfully.

"We've got ourselves a Crazy Dog and a potential Exorcist in the mix. Quite the team we're building! All we need now is a top-notch hunter, a master craftsman, and a talented chef."

He put his arm around Asdras's shoulder. "Picture it, mate. Our crew, the best from the North, venturing into uncharted territory, taking on all sorts of creatures, and charming the socks off the ladies. We'll be the stuff of legends!"

Asdras smiled, imagining the bright future ahead for their adventurous group.

"Well, I guess for now, we still need to buy our supplies and enroll before the entrance exam deadline."

"You're spot on, buddy. Let's head back to the inn. We've already paid a silver, and our food is waiting for us, fair and square."