On June 15th of the year 1515 in the New Calendar, the Parall Empire was immersed in a day of grand celebration. Today marked the annual Baptism of the Holy Clergy—a sacred rite awaited eagerly by many. All male citizens over the age of twenty were granted the opportunity to receive the consecration of the Holy Church of Parall, and if chosen, ascend to the revered rank of Holy Cleric. In this empire, Holy Clerics symbolized both righteousness and might, and thus, to become one was a source of boundless pride for the men of Parall.
A legend passed down among the common folk spoke of the Church's divine origins. Long before the founding of the Parall Empire, the western expanse of the continent of Roland was ravaged by legions of demons and the undead. The people suffered beneath the yoke of despair and terror—until one day, a company of warriors clad in resplendent armor and bearing blessed arms descended upon the land. These brave souls were unshaken by fear and wielded a radiant power of light, both wondrous and formidable. They purged the lands of darkness, and the people, overwhelmed with gratitude, hailed them as saviors. With their guidance, a new kingdom was soon born—Parall. On the very day of his coronation, the first king of Parall bestowed upon these heroes the title of Holy Cleric and granted them dominion to establish the Holy Church, entrusting them with the sacred duty of raising generations of future clerics.
Morning
"Will, are you up? Today is the day you've long awaited." A dignified woman stood at the doorway, calling gently into the room.
"I'm already awake, Mother," replied the young man inside.
Will was tall and slender, his hair a shimmering gold, his eyes the color of a clear summer sky. He stood before his mirror, carefully adjusting his attire. Today marked his twentieth birthday and, more importantly, the day of his Holy Baptism. He had risen early, determined not to let sleep rob him of his chance. Once satisfied with his appearance, he descended the stairs to partake in breakfast.
Will's father, Terry Gibson, was a commander of the Holy Clerics, and as such, Will had grown up in relative prosperity.
That morning, his mother had prepared an especially hearty breakfast, believing that a fine meal would bring good fortune for the day ahead.
"Where is Father?" Will asked as he took his seat at the table.
"Oh, he left early. He knew today was your baptism, so he slipped out before dawn. You know how he is… he never quite approved of your becoming a Holy Cleric." She shrugged with quiet resignation.
Will bowed his head at her words, offering no response. He had never fully understood his father's opposition. As a commander of the Holy Clerics, Terry Gibson should have been proud of his son's aspiration to follow in his footsteps. Yet whenever Will spoke of his dream, his father grew stern and silent.
The Holy Church stood adjacent to the imperial palace, its grandeur rivaling even the royal halls. Its gates were flanked by pristine marble columns, and a majestic stairway ascended from the entrance, leading to the heart of the sacred institution. The Church's central tower rose into the heavens, crowned with a solemn bell tower.
Even now, the entrance was surrounded by throngs of people—some seeking to undergo the ritual, others merely drawn by curiosity and the allure of spectacle.
Will stood at the edge of the crowd, overwhelmed and uncertain. He had no idea where to go or whom to seek. In truth, the only person he believed could guide him was his father—yet Terry Gibson remained unwilling to support his son's sacred ambition, and so Will quickly banished the thought.
"Will! Hey, Will! Over here!" A voice rang out from the crowd. A boy with tousled brown hair and wide, honest eyes, his freckled face beaming, waved vigorously. It was Eddie—Will's childhood friend and steadfast companion. The two had grown up side by side, bound by a shared dream of becoming great Holy Paladins.
"Hey, Eddie!" Will called back, pushing his way through the mass of people.
"I was just looking for you," Eddie grinned. "I knew you wouldn't let this chance slip away."
"Of course not. Who knows when the next opportunity might come," Will replied with resolve.
"Then let's give it our all—together," Eddie said, smiling.
Suddenly, three deep tolls echoed from the Church's bell tower, silencing the crowd. The great doors slowly creaked open, and from within emerged a solitary figure draped in white robes, a hood drawn over his head, and a golden medallion resting upon his chest.
He stepped forward and removed his hood, revealing a face marked with the wisdom of age—hair as white as snow and skin lined by time.
"Brave souls of the Parall Empire," he spoke, his voice clear and solemn. "I am Matthew, High Pontiff of the Holy Church. You may address me as His Holiness."
He paused, then continued in a voice that carried weight and gravitas: "Before we begin, know this—Holy Clerics are warriors of unwavering courage. They do not flinch in the face of adversity, they sacrifice without hesitation, and they bear deep compassion for the weak. Most importantly, they possess a faith unshakable. To walk this path is not easy. Are you truly prepared to accept its burdens?"
A hush fell over the crowd.
"If your hearts do not falter in the face of this vow," the Pontiff declared, "then rejoice—for you already hold the first virtue of a Holy Cleric."
He went on, "You have surely heard the tales, the legends. The Holy Cleric's purpose is to vanquish those vile beings that defy the natural order—monsters and the undead. Thus, a cleric must possess exceptional courage and mastery in combat. Only those who believe they can stand against such darkness are worthy of the title."
"Seems it won't be as easy as we thought," Eddie murmured to Will.
"No. But I won't let a few words deter me," Will answered, eyes set with determination.
"Nor will I," said Eddie.
"The Baptism of the Holy Clerics shall now commence!" declared the Pontiff. "All who seek the rite, ascend the steps and enter the Church!"
At his signal, two guards stationed inside began to push open the massive doors. Yet, rather than rushing forward, the crowd stood frozen—paralyzed, perhaps, by the weight of the Pontiff's words.
"Cowards," Will muttered, and with a bold step, he strode forward. "Let's go, Eddie!"
"Right behind you!" Eddie replied, his resolve matching Will's.
And so, what began as a grand gathering ended with only four initiates, Will and Eddie among them, stepping through the sacred threshold. The rest slowly dispersed as the Church doors closed behind them.