I stood patiently, humbly, under the eyes of those who watched me. Then when Father Azrael gestured at me, I took a step forward and made a proclamation.
"I am Joshua, a persevering brother in Christ, under the tutelage of Father Azrael."
Shortly after, Father Azrael also walked forward, standing next to me.
"I am Azreal, a brother in Christ and a devotee of the Kingdom. For 3 months, I have lectured Joshua, teaching him in the way of the Lord, and faithfully mentoring him on the standards of a Crusader."
After that, he fell silent and observed.
"Well then." A different Cardinal declared. "Let the assessment commence."
At that moment, I saw everyone raise small wooden gravels—about the size of their palms. In my eyes, the 21 Seats looked even more authoritative, domineering, and imposing like the judges they were.
And immediately, each of those gravels fell.
One thud. Then several thuds. Till it sounded like a discordant melody. The cacophony that erupted from the hammers hitting the desk echoed all over the large, dark hall. For a moment, the atmosphere seemed to have come alive, causing my heart to dance strangely in my chest.
Dance?
No, It was only beating furiously.
The evaluation had actually started. And I didn't know what to expect.
A Cardinal at the uppermost sitting area cleared his throat. "Azrael. Go ahead and brief us on his performance."
I let out a slightly audible breath, striving to calm my overly tense nerves. My eyes remained fixed on Father Azrael, with all sorts of emotions locked up behind those two bulbs. I watched him, silently. But my heart screamed.
His words lingered in my head too. Sustained physical harm would negatively impact my grades. Even though the said 'harm' wasn't so severe, it still counted unfortunately.
Then again, failing because of a bald spot had to be the most laughable 'achievement' I could ever get. How could I even make anyone believe such an excuse?
But…didn't I sustain other injuries?
Immediately I ran my eyes all around my body. I couldn't remember the details, but I did get injured during that encounter.
Yes, it was my arm! How had I forgotten?
My hands and eyes retraced the injured site on my arm, whilst another thought surfaced and retained itself on my mind.
Why didn't it hurt?
My hands swept over the area where I got cut by the whips. I had expected a softer texture of broken tissue, or several pain signals to envelop me at once. But I saw and felt nothing.
I looked all over the span of my left and right hands, just to be sure that I wasn't hallucinating. Surprisingly, my skin was completely fine, and my cassock had not the slightest tear—as if the injury never happened.
Was it a mental attack?
My head sank. That was the only logical answer.
The problem was the fact that I did not know if there were adverse effects of mental attacks. Perhaps it was just an illusion. Perhaps a part of me that I knew not about, got the damage instead.
Shall I be optimistic? No! I was too worried. My fears of the unknown began entangling themselves with my fear of failure. Would I fail for an unknown reason?
...
Maybe it wasn't so bad either? After all, pass rates had dropped by 40% recently, so failing wasn't so uncommon. Maybe people expect me to fail, so it might not actually be so embarrassing?
I shook my head, repressing such negative thoughts. Still, imagining worst-case scenarios was a great defence against disappointment.
Or was I just being pessimistic?
Father Azrael whispered in a subtle voice. "You're gonna get in. Trust me."
I hope so.
Father Azrael nodded calmly with a smile, attempting to put my heart at ease. Then, walking further away, he answered the judge.
"Joshua here has succeeded in an exorcism against a second rank manifestation. However, he has lost a portion of his hair, with no more damage sustained. I must say that during his training, he had no practical lessons on dealing with demons of that level. Yet he succeeded, by God's grace, and achieved nearly flawless results."
The same Cardinal who spoke nodded and asked a different question. "So his case is just a little different?"
Father Azrael nodded. "Yes. Just a little different."
Eh?
Hold up! Was he trying to make me fail?
And once again, unease began to creep in through the underdoor gaps of my heart.
Another Cardinal raised his hand, and when everyone else saw his intent to speak, he interrogated Father Azrael.
"You say he sustained physical harm against a manifestation. Do you mind expanding on how that happened?"
Father Azrael sighed quietly and answered. "It occurred due to a lack of prompt responsiveness. He failed to duck in time, and suffered that damage."
"I see.." The Cardinal played with his beard for a while. "How many times did he receive such direct hits?"
Father Azrael fell silent. On our way in, I had told him everything that had happened without hiding anything. And I remembered the expression on his face the moment he heard my words.
Father Azrael responded. "3 times. Including the haircut."
"Ah…" The Cardinal leaned away. The dark hall fell silent.
Is that a bad thing?
I could see a quick shift in expressions among the Cardinals who sat. Even the temperature seemed to have risen by several degrees. Gazes—several of them. They poked at me, and I could sense disappointment in a fraction of them.
Another Cardinal gestured and spoke. "So three direct hits but damage was inflicted only once?"
Disbelief was evident in his tone. And several other Cardinals seemed to agree with his train of thought.
"Yes." Father Azrael replied. "I thoroughly checked him and found no injuries."
"And this 'thorough' check of yours includes a medical assessment, I believe…"
….
Of course not! He definitely knew that.
"I'm afraid it doesn't." Father Azrael answered, still maintaining his composure.
The Cardinal pointed at me. "So how do we rule out the possibility of internal injuries?"
"I'm afraid we can't," he replied. "But permit my optimism. I believe that 2 out of 3 attacks were simply illusory tactics to weaken his faith. Judging by the absence of any sign of physical harm, I believe this to be the case."
The Cardinal retracted his arm and stared intently at him. "I worry that your optimism stems from favouritism."
Father Azrael returned his gaze. "I am a humble teacher of many, and a favourite of none."
"I understand your plight." He remarked. "However, 3 direct hits imply failure."
The Cardinal narrowed his eyes. "You know this, don't you?"
Failure…
I see.
What did I expect..?
My shoulders collapsed involuntarily, and a defeated sigh left my mouth. It was a long, heavy sigh that held several emotions.
I couldn't even look up at the 21 Seats, because I felt…rejected.
Suddenly, a different Cardinal gestured to speak. "I pray his flaws be pardoned."
"And why is that?" The other Cardinal asked.
"His 'slightly different' case involves a second rank manifestation." He answered. Then he turned and shot his eyes directly at me. "Have you ever encountered such a paranormal phenomenon? Any of this magnitude or less?"
"I..umm" My attempt at responding was pathetic as only broken sentences and half-formed words could be uttered from my mouth. My voice was noticeably shaky, which easily revealed my unsteady feelings.
"No."
The Cardinal nodded at my response and glanced at the opposing Cardinal. "Beginner's dilemma. A little nothing we could ignore."
However, he was sharply countered by a different Cardinal. Raising his hand, he made his argument clear.
"I believe fearlessness is an essential attribute of an aspiring Crusader. Make your point known. Are you justifying his flaws as a lack of this attribute?"
"Well, we can only hear from the horse's mouth…" He answered, showing that he wasn't necessarily on my side.
Now every eye was on me.
The Cardinal that defended me gazed deeply at me, watching me from heights like an elder to a youngster.
"Tell me. Were you scared?"
….
Father Azrael looked at me and nodded.
Truthfully I was scared, and I could not lie about that. Still, I refused to believe that the successful Crusaders didn't feel fear for the first time too.
Ah…I forgot. I was the unlucky one.
What mattered was not whether I said the truth or not, but how well I worded my response. Instantly, I cast my fears aside, allowing logic to override every one of my negative feelings.
With one more sigh, I responded.
"Fear is of the flesh, and is not an attribute of the Spirit. As an aspiring Crusader, I am guilty of giving in to the imperfection of my heart. However, this was merely temporary. We are all firm believers in the essence of Christ, which is love, and the commandment to forgive that follows it. Therefore, just as Christ forgave my imperfection, I urge you to do the same."
"....."
Once again, the hall descended into a pin-drop silence.
Did I say too much?
I turned to look at Father Azrael, hoping he would help my situation. But he didn't. Instead, he made me very nervous.
Father Azrael stared at me with an open mouth and a pair of wide eyes.
Ah….
Seeing him made me understand one thing. I had definitely overstepped my boundaries.
"Wow…" A Cardinal chuckled, "That's quite…bold."
Another Cardinal cut in with a laugh. "This is one unique lad! I have seen several Crusaders with several unique responses…."
Then laughing even more, he added. "...but this is the first time someone has actually preached to us."
Several Cardinals giggled to themselves, finding the circumstance funny. All while I stood there with a forced smile, masking my fears and coping with the uncertainty of the situation.
Deep down, I was wishing one of them would say, 'Hey, you're funny, so you pass', but I knew that would never happen.
The Cardinal that once supported me signified to speak, and the laughter ceased at once.
"You've proven to have a gifted tongue and a proficient understanding of the Word." Then he crossed his fingers. "I suggest you take the Missionary Path."
A Crusader was presented with two paths. The first was the Exorcist Path, which specialised in direct confrontation against demonic forces. The second was the Missionary Path, which was responsible for the advancement of the gospel.
I had chosen the Exorcist Path because it resonated with me. The idea of battling and defeating evil forces was always something I dreamed of as a kid. Therefore, no one was going to change my mind on that.
"As much as I admire the prospect of sharing the gospel, I can only pray to do that through the dismantling of dark, and evil networks."
The Cardinal nodded in understanding and relaxed himself. He had asked every question on his mind.
Father Azrael, on the other hand, was still staring at me as if I swallowed a ghost or something.
….
No Cardinal said a word more. I instinctively knew that they had all made a decision.
At that moment, the High Cardinal spoke.
The highest authority in every Sanctuary, and the head of the 21 Seats. Ironic to his title, he was seated at the lowest desk, in the fifth seat.
His voice was quite thin, but he was definitely of old age.
"How about we vote?" He suggested. "Right hand to accept. Left to decline."
The idea was agreeable in everyone's eyes so they all raised their gravels and hammered their desks. This was their way of showing their support with the suggestion.
"Good. We begin."
His left hand was already raised, so he hammered down, registering his vote.
Shortly after, several hands were raised, both left and right. I wanted to count, but my pessimism didn't let me. If I was going to fail or pass, it was up to them to decide.
Before I knew it, I had my eyes shut, fists clenched tightly, waiting patiently, and nervously.
I heard more and more of the votes being pressed in, as the gravels fell like hammers of fate. They went on, and on. Till they stopped.
I didn't know how he could tell, but the High Cardinal read out the votes, despite not seeing everyone's hands.
"10 for. 10 against." He declared.
His finger lightly tapped his desk. "A Cardinal is yet to vote."
10-10…? Really?
Well isn't that the Great divide?
Every muscle on my face tensed, and sweat began to bead on my forehead. I don't know how such a 'convenient' event came about, but I had hope. I did.
I glanced at my teacher. He was facing the other direction so I couldn't tell the expression on his face. I just hoped it was a good one—it had to be.
But why was he looking away?
No! That's not what matters now…
I started praying in my heart, hoping for the best. Whoever it was that had forgotten to vote, had to stand in my favour. Please!
Everyone sitting on the same row as 'him' glanced over, looking over each other's shoulders till their eyes fell on the 'culprit'. Their gazes lingered—long enough for me to figure out who it was.
Skinny Old Jones lifted his gravel. And then a blue light shone from his position.
It emanated from his eyes. Two glowing bulbs stared down the desk, right at me.
"Wha—!"
I was astounded—obviously. But everyone else was casual about it as if it wasn't their first time seeing this.
At that moment, I felt something slap my arm. Looking over to the right, I saw Father Azrael gripping my shoulder.
And he had a very wide smile on his face.
Skinny Old Jones spoke. And there was a thunderous utterance in his words.
Literally.
"God said…."
He lifted his right hand.
"YOU PASS."
THUD!