Zenorius's observation unit finally emerged from the suffocating darkness of the Abythralis Forest. Their breaths were ragged, their bodies marked with wounds, yet their eyes still burned with the will to live.
Ahead, the torchlight of Domeralith Fortress flickered like a beacon. The fortress knights rushed out to meet them, cutting down the remaining monsters that had pursued them to the very gates.
"Quick, close the gate!" one of the guards shouted.
The heavy thud of wood and the grinding of chains echoed as the iron gate slammed shut.
Aquilla collapsed onto the rocky ground, his hands trembling around a blood-soaked sword.
"We… made it out…" he whispered, staring up at the night sky.
Zenorius stood nearby, his body riddled with wounds yet unshaken. Behind them, two fallen elite knights were carried under shrouds of cloth.
"Two…" one of the younger knights muttered. "Out of ten… only eight of us returned…"
Zenorius's eyes sharpened. "Their sacrifice was not in vain. Without them, not a single one of us would be standing here."
The knights fell silent, their faces carved with grief, but also pride.
As they reached the fortress gate, Zenorius raised his hand. "All of you, return to the barracks. The Acolytes will tend to your wounds. Rest. That's an order."
The knights nodded weakly and began to disperse.
Aquilla rose to his feet, his body unsteady. "Commander… what about you?"
Zenorius turned to him. "I will report the results of this expedition to Bailo. You…" He paused, his eyes scanning Aquilla from head to toe. "You will accompany me to the capital—Esperalza."
Aquilla's eyes widened. "M-me… to Esperalza?"
"Yes. Prepare yourself."
Aquilla straightened his posture, his chest swelling with sudden pride despite his exhaustion. "Th-this is a great honor, Commander! I… I won't let you down!"
Zenorius said nothing more, simply turning away and heading toward Bailo's mansion with heavy steps.
Inside the mansion, Bailo awaited him in the study, the glow of an oil lamp illuminating a desk buried in documents.
"Zenorius…" Bailo's voice was heavy, tinged with curiosity. "This is the first time in my rule that men have returned alive from Abythralis."
Zenorius stood tall, his face unyielding. He did not answer immediately.
Bailo narrowed his eyes. "So… did the expedition yield what I asked for? Or was it all for nothing?"
Zenorius placed a bound report upon the desk. "The tower is real."
Bailo immediately flipped through the pages. "A tower… with such architecture…"
Zenorius's gaze remained fixed ahead. "I saw it myself. Not up close—monsters swarmed too thick within the forest. But I was able to sketch it clearly. A colossal tower, grand, as though it belonged to an ancient kingdom. Larger and taller than the mage towers of Cestisia."
Bailo froze, his eyes narrowing. "And the material? What was it built from?"
"Unknown. Yet there were no traces of magic, no flow of energy. The tower simply… exists."
Bailo tapped his finger against the desk. "Simply appeared…? You're certain it wasn't a forest illusion?"
Zenorius's eyes hardened. "It was no illusion. It pierced the clouds. No one could have built such a thing overnight. I will say this again, Bailo—the tower exists."
Silence weighed in the room. Bailo leaned back into his chair, brooding.
"In that case…" He fixed Zenorius with a calculating gaze. "You'll be reporting this to the Central Council of Esperalza?"
"Of course."
"And if the tower is deemed a threat…?"
"The High Divinari Council will decide. That authority is not mine."
Bailo let out a long, weary sigh. "Damn… if the Council descends here, the workload for this city will double. But such is my duty."
Zenorius nodded once. "I will also take one of Domeralith's knights to Esperalza."
Bailo sat straighter. "Who?"
"Knight Aquilla Elvanir."
Bailo furrowed his brow, searching his memory. "The young black-haired knight…? He did show more resolve than the others. But why him?"
Zenorius's gaze sharpened. "Because he received a divine blessing from the Goddess Risvela."
Bailo froze, his lips parting in stunned silence. "…The Goddess Risvela… granted her blessing?"
Zenorius did not waver. "I saw it with my own eyes. His blade shone with the light of the moon. That was not the power of Tuthar."
Bailo covered his mouth with his hand, then gave a bitter laugh. "Hah… how rare! How utterly rare for the Goddess Risvela to choose a mortal knight… That boy must be placed under the guidance of the High Priest of Risvela immediately."
"That is why I'll bring him."
Bailo lowered his head slightly. "Very well. He has my leave."
Zenorius saluted curtly. "I'll make preparations at once."
He turned and left, the heavy wooden door groaning shut behind him.
Bailo looked down at the report still in his hands. The sketch of the towering structure drawn by Zenorius felt almost alive.
"A tower that appeared from nothing…" he muttered under his breath. "And a young knight chosen by Risvela… Domeralith now stands at the edge of a dangerous fate."
In the barracks, Aquilla sat on his wooden cot, trying to still the storm of his thoughts.
"Esperalza…" He clutched his sword tightly. "The capital of gods and nobles… I'm really going there…"
His hands trembled—not from fatigue, but from a tangled surge of pride, fear, and hope.
"The blessing of the Goddess Risvela…" he whispered, lowering his head. "Am I truly… worthy of it?"
Zenorius stepped out of Bailo's mansion. His stride was steady, though his shoulders bore the weight of wounds and the heavier burden of his mission. Without hesitation, he made his way toward the barracks.
Inside, Aquilla was wiping the blood from his blade when the wooden door creaked open.
"Prepare yourself. We leave for Esperalza tonight," Zenorius said flatly.
Aquilla froze. "T-tonight...? Commander, isn't that—"
Zenorius let out a short chuckle. "Why? You don't want to go?"
Aquilla's eyes widened. "Of course I do! Esperalza... who wouldn't want to go there?"
"Then don't ask questions."
Grinding his teeth, Aquilla gave a sharp nod. "Understood, Commander!"
Zenorius cast him a brief glance before adding, "A knight must always be ready, regardless of time or condition. Don't forget that. Besides... few knights are granted a god's blessing. You'd better understand just how rare and valuable that is."
Aquilla swallowed hard, then reached for his gear. "I understand."
The black carriage, adorned with the crest of Mortarii Bellum, sped along the cobbled road, leaving the fortress of Domeralith behind. The oil lamps inside swayed with each jolt of the wheels.
Seated across from Zenorius, Aquilla remained silent for a while before finally speaking. "Commander... what I've experienced... does it happen often to other knights?"
Zenorius met his gaze. "No. What you experienced is extremely rare."
"Rare...?"
"Not many knights receive blessings directly from the gods. Prayer and diligence alone aren't enough. The gods have their own standards. They demand something more—something that makes a mortal... worthy."
Aquilla lowered his head, mulling over the words. "So... I was chosen because... I'm worthy?"
Zenorius nodded. "That's right."
Leaning back against his seat, his voice grew heavier. "In Esperalza, the core knights can borrow the gods' power. But usually, it's through ritual. They choose the deity they will serve, and that god demands payment or an oath. Everything depends on the god and the temple where the ritual takes place."
Aquilla murmured, "So... most must bind themselves with an oath..."
"Correct. But your case is different. Goddess Risvela blessed you directly. No ritual, no oath, no bargain. That's no trivial matter."
Aquilla lifted his gaze. "Are there... others like me?"
"Very few. But there are." Zenorius paused, eyes drifting to the window. "Like myself."
Aquilla stiffened at his words.
Zenorius lowered his head slightly, his voice dropping into a deep timbre. "I received Tuthar's blessing when I was still just an ordinary knight. It was during an undead extermination mission. The situation... was chaos. Hundreds of undead surrounded us. All of my comrades fell—and then rose again as the damned."
Aquilla swallowed. "And then...?"
"I cut them all down. Every single one. Even my comrades who had just turned. I cut them down without hesitation."
Aquilla fell silent.
"That was when Tuthar granted me his blessing."
Aquilla whispered, "...Tuthar... the guardian of tombs, the guide of souls. The god of death."
Zenorius inclined his head. "Correct. Tuthar is the very emblem of the Mortarii Bellum order—the order I now lead. I believe Tuthar tested my faith that day. Because I believed... that when I struck down my fallen comrades' cursed shells, their souls would be guided to rest by his hand."
Aquilla stared at him intently. "So... a god's blessing isn't something easily obtained..."
Zenorius gave a short, scornful breath. "Not just difficult. Never think of it as mere luck."
Aquilla blinked. "L-luck...?"
"Yes. If you dare say you were 'lucky' to be chosen by Risvela, you belittle the goddess herself. Gods do not bestow blessings at random. They choose with care. With excruciating care."
Aquilla bowed his head deeply. "I... understand, Commander."
Zenorius's gaze sharpened. "Countless knights spend their entire lives yearning to be acknowledged by the deity they worship. Yet most are never chosen. Do not ever insult their devotion—or the god who chose you—by calling it luck."
Aquilla clenched his sword tightly in his lap. "I... I won't call it luck again. From now on... I'll see it as responsibility."
Zenorius's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Good. That's the answer you should give."
Aquilla drew in a deep breath, his heart trembling. Risvela's blessing... it wasn't luck. It was a trial. A burden. One he must prove himself worthy of.
The carriage thundered on into the darkness, iron wheels rattling against stone, the relentless rhythm of hooves echoing through the night.
Aquilla glanced once more at Zenorius. "Commander..."
"What is it?"
"If... I fail to live up to Goddess Risvela's expectations... what will happen to me?"
Zenorius was silent for a long moment, his eyes sharp as a blade. Then he answered quietly, "If you fail... the goddess will reclaim her blessing. You will become just another knight. But... long before that happens, you'll likely be destroyed by your own choices."
Aquilla shuddered at the weight of those words. Yet he lifted his chin, voice firm. "Then... I will make sure I don't fail."
Zenorius closed his eyes, leaning back into his seat. "That's what I wanted to hear."
Aquilla turned toward the faint glow beyond the carriage window.
Goddess Risvela... if it's true that you chose me... then I'll prove myself worthy.