R-a - Volume 4 - Chapter 3

R-a - Volume 4 - Chapter 3 (In editing-v0) (Quarantine volunteer stuff mostly done, good to be back writing. Here's Chapter 3!)

“Prepare to duel!”

“Condense your Weapon Energy, don’t spread it out!”

“Activate your Blue Flame Blades on my command!”

A series of gruff, wizened voices echoed across a sunlit grass field, spreading through the air like waves at sea.

Hundreds of men and women stood in that same field, dressed in white leather armor that was emblazoned with the main symbol of the Purgatory Church: a large circle and three small circles that were lined up horizontally inside the large circle. These warriors were split up into several groups, each focused on various things. 

Some of the groups held mock battles, while others went over ways to utilize certain Artifacts or Abilities. All of them were filled with determined warriors that were training without holding back, doing their best to improve. 

The Nirvana Saint clasped his hands together as he studied all of this, his golden eyes giving away nothing. 

The man stood at one end of the training field, at the edge of a rather thin forest, watching from the shade of a large oak tree. He was dressed in a set of humble white robes. He held no weapon in his hands or at sheathed at his hip, but instead carried a file of papers tucked under his arm.

“Bevlin, how are the men doing?” The Nirvana Saint’s warm voice sang out as he turned around. 

Directly behind the nameless leader of the Purgatory Church was a trio of men dressed in full metal armor. These warriors had the symbol of the Purgatory Church enshrined on their chest-plates, making their allegiance very clear. 

Each warrior was tall and strong, bearing sturdy physiques that were noticeable even behind all that metal. They stood at around the same height, a few inches above average for a human. Their helmets hid their facial features, causing them to appear almost like triplets. 

One of the men in the trio, the one at the center of the group, immediately stepped forward after the Nirvana Saint spoke. This warrior emanated a tangible feeling of heat from his body, like a cindering ember ready to burst out into flames. 

“Quite well, Your Holiness. The accelerated training plans have been implemented across all stations without issue.” Bevlin’s voice was deep, carrying a rich timbre full of confidence. 

The Nirvana Saint nodded slightly as he studied the warrior. 

Bevlin Petrov, the Sun Knight. He was one of the strongest warriors loyal to the Purgatory Church, and one of only six Knight Commanders within the Grey Knights. 

“How about the reorganization process? Any problems there?” The Nirvana Saint asked another question.

“There were a few delays, but it’s moving along just fine now.” Bevlin answered in quick order. 

The Nirvana Saint smiled. 

“Good.” His reply was short, but contained a hint of genuine pleasure as he turned around, turning his focus back to the training field. 

After the Nirvana Saint learned of the existence of the Beasts of Providence, he immediately began to implement countermeasures. 

He was facing an unknown number of enemies that utilized unknown powers in an unknown world where he was forced to rely on incomplete information and unknown allies. 

Given all of that, the first thing he had to do was obvious:

Raise an army. 

“Francis, Yun Chen.” The Nirvana Saint motioned at the two other men, elite Knight Commanders on par with Bevlin, adding, 

“Return to your posts and maintain training. I want the Grey Knights battle-ready by next month. Go.” His voice brooked no argument.

“As you command, Your Holiness!” 

“At once, Your Holiness!” 

The two other Knight Commanders saluted the Nirvana Saint and immediately set off, transforming into silver blurs as they began to split away. A small entourage of armored subordinates joined up with each Knight Commander as they left, one group headed north while the other travelled south. 

The Knight Commanders were the sub-leaders of the Grey Knights, the Purgatory Church’s hidden army, second only to the Nirvana Saint himself. Each one was stationed in control of six different areas, serving as a proxy for his orders. 

The Nirvana Saint had completely rescinded the orders Archbishop Irin had left behind, calling the Six Battalions of the Grey Knights back into active training. The current training course had been designed by the Nirvana Saint, drawing on the experience of several military experts within the Church.

The Archbishop had weakened the Grey Knights, but not enough to ruin them. The Grey Knights had maintained their strenuous recruitment standards, all of their members were still elites in their own right. The Nirvana Saint had been gifted with an excellent foundation to build an army out of, something he intended to take full advantage of. 

After reactivating the Six Battalions, the Nirvana Saint also weeded out the incompetent officers that the Archbishop had installed, reorganizing the military force to focus on discipline and competence. 

This was a huge effort that was extremely difficult to hide. The Grey Knights focused on quality, not quantity, but there were still a bit more than 24,000 men and women serving within the hidden army. Even when split up, the movements of so many elites was bound to make waves. 

No matter what the Nirvana Saint did, he was bound to be noticed. The secret organization that had controlled the Archbishop likely had spies placed within the Grey Knights, if nothing else. They might even be adding new spies to his army, infiltrating and controlling his men. 

It was a harrowing realization. Trust was now an even rarer commodity. 

The fact that he had been blind to the existence of this organization was horrifying. If he hadn’t learned of their existence and instead later been caught completely unaware… suffice to say, the consequences would not be pretty. 

‘Speaking of trust…’ The Nirvana Saint’s golden eyes flickered as he glanced back at Knight Commander Bevlin. 

“Commander, how go the preparations for the Great Feast?” The leader of the Church asked, smiling genteelly. 

“Err- my Battalion hasn’t run into any issues helping the other branches of the Church prepare. I’ve been told supplies are almost fully stocked in most locations.” Bevlin’s reply came after a moment’s pause, the question catching the man slightly off-guard.

“Good, good. I’m glad to hear that!” The Nirvana Saint clapped his hands together, his eyes burning with endless enthusiasm. 

Right after he clapped, in the distance, a white robed attendant slowly began to approach. 

‘If I was the leader of a hidden organization and I wanted to control the Church, who would I want to dominate?’ The thought rose to the forefront of the Church leader’s mind.

A small glint appeared and then vanished from the Nirvana Saint’s gaze as he glanced at the attendant and then back at Knight Commander Bevlin. 

“Just one last thing, Commander, before I let you go. I have a few last questions I’d like to ask you. Brother Gabriel, here, will join us to verify the truth of your answers.” The golden-eyed man smiled as he waved at the approaching attendant. 

The Knight Commander shrugged and then nodded. The Nirvana Saint had phrased his words as if this was an optional request, but his tone made it clear that it was an irrefutable demand.

‘My first choice would’ve been the Archbishop. My second choice, however…’ The golden-eyed leader of the Church never stopped smiling as he studied the Knight Commander.

‘That would be the Knight Commanders…’ His smile grew a little harsh.

‘All of them.’

.. .. .. .. .. .. 

♫…♫…♫

Beautiful music hummed in the air, singing a haunting, wordless melody that echoed in the hearts of all who heard it. It was an epic, a song full of bravery and hope, danger and fear, culminating in a hectic climax where everything came together. 

Victory and death, defeat and life, a never-ending circle of stories.

♫

Micheal blearily recognized the tune as his mind wavered on the edge of awareness, his thoughts clouded and muddled. 

‘Huh? What? Who?’ Try as he might, he struggled to form a conscious line of thought, let alone to search his memories and name the song.

He lay there for several moments, relegating himself to simply existing in the moment. 

♫… ♫… ♫

It wasn’t an unpleasant experience, he found. In this state, he was vaguely aware of the many things he needed to do, but was unable to feel the urgency behind those worries. 

Because of that, Micheal found himself able to truly relax, soaking in the raw music with a hint of pleasure. 

Time slipped by. 

♫

The song travelled down one familiar avenue after another, working towards its grand crescendo. It had its peaks and its troughs, the music dancing with a heart of its own. 

As the song grew, so did Micheal’s awareness. 

Gradually, various sensations returned to him. The first thing he regained was the ability to feel his body, swiftly followed by sensations of warmth, faint aches in his joints and muscles from lying still for too long, and a thick, heavy feeling that weighed him down. 

‘Ah?’ Micheal’s mind gradually began to grow clear, his thoughts coming easier to him.

♫

‘The Life Festival… did I stop the attack? Is… is Myla Hannis still alive?’ The first coherent thought he could muster was not for himself, but for the Farians that he had tried to protect. 

His memories of the battle with the Beasts of Providence rose up into his mind, as did the realization that there was someone controlling the minds of the secret organization’s warriors. 

He’d stopped all the attacks he’d known about ahead of time… but given what he knew now… it was entirely conceivable the Beasts of Providence had had a backup plan that he’d missed.  

A hint of worry rapidly began to spread throughout his consciousness, hand-in-hand with a feeling of guilt. 

He’d been far too reliant on his knowledge of the future despite knowing that the history of the Second Layer was scattered and unclear. 

He knew what he knew… but what he knew was not everything. 

♫

The song that Micheal had found welcoming before began to grate on his ears now. It suddenly became discordant, rousing his consciousness. 

Micheal’s mouth twitched, the muscles that controlled his lips contorting into a weak frown. His eyes scrunched up as he focused, doing his best to throw off the irritating tune. 

His mind rapidly began to clear as his awareness rocketed upwards. Everything began to fly back towards Micheal, his memories rushing in without pause. 

The final battle, the massive explosion he’d set off, the chain of Points notifications he’d obtained… everything came back to him. 

Abruptly, the music vanished. 

Micheal’s eyes flicked open, revealing a rather blurry room around him. He could make out a long brown bed that he was resting in, underneath a heavy brown blanket, as well as several windows letting in light on the walls. 

What caught his attention most, however, were the two vague figures that were standing just to the right of his bed, one taller and one short. 

“Oh? It was effective.” The larger of those two blurry figures spoke up in a deep, gruff voice that echoed out. 

“Indeed. His Soul was already half-healed, my Spell only needed to do half the work. This human’s quite a resilient one.” The smaller of the two figures replied with a shrug.

Micheal responded by blinking furiously, clearing his vision as quickly as possible. At the same time, he split his focus in his head and activated his Life Orb Mastery Ability, creating a Life Orb that he could draw on if needed. 

A few seconds later, the world around him came into focus. 

As soon as it did, Micheal’s jaw dropped. 

“Huh?” He muttered, so shocked that he couldn’t help himself.

Standing in front of him were two very unexpected guests. 

The taller man was a Farian, a lean, muscular one with warm, golden skin and green eyes. His long blond hair fell across his shoulders, sliding off his square jaw to give him a rather majestic look. The simple brown robe he wore somehow complimented the feeling of awe he gave off, in an almost paradoxical way. 

Michael recognized him instantly. 

He was Gregor Mantorel, the Lord Justiciar of the Farians.

The strongest Farian across the entire Second Layer, a legendary figure of great renown.

If the Six Lords of the Byrens were known as impossible monsters, the Lord Justiciar that could fight evenly with any one of those Lords was known as a freakish beast. Through his illogical strength, he singlehandedly prolonged the war between races time and time again, supporting his entire race on his back at times. 

Gregor acted as the de facto leader of the Farians, though even his might wasn’t enough to force the Farian Tribes to smoothly cooperate. Still, he was a busy man, and not someone Micheal was prepared to see as soon as he woke up. 

Seeing him now was surprising…

However, it was the second figure standing next to the Lord Justiciar that shocked Micheal to his core. 

Like Gregor, this figure also wore a plain brown robe. He was of below average height, standing around 5 feet tall (1.5 meters). Instead of pale white or warm golden skin, his face was colored light blue. Apart from the odd color, his appearance was very human-like, with two grey eyes, normal ears, a small nose, and thin lips. 

There were no Farians that looked like that… but the blue-skinned humanoid was the spitting image of a Rakkonian Wizard, one of the invading Races alongside the Farains, Humans, and the Orkals far to the west. The Rakkonians were known for their ability to cast mystical Spells and had landed in the territory of the Ground Demon Sect to the South. 

Micheal’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the two men, flabbergasted. 

The leader of the Farians and a powerful Rakkonian Wizard, standing side by side at peace. 

His mind began to race furiously as golden-skinned Farian looked down and began to speak. 

“Good morning, young warrior. I’m glad to see you’ve finally woken up.” Gregor’s mouth widened into a smile that failed to reach his eyes, 

“It’s time you and I had a talk.” 

.