The chamber was deathly still.
The man on the stretcher wheezed, his shallow breaths echoing through the vaulted hall. His hollow eyes stayed fixed on me, almost daring me to move.
The youngest priest's voice cracked like a whip:
"Well? Do it, boy. Show us your so-called miracle."
I swallowed hard. My palms were slick with sweat.
"I… I don't want to…"
"Don't want to?" the sharp-eyed priestess snapped.
"Do you think you can carry a gift like this while refusing to stain your hands? That is naïve at best—and dangerous at worst."
My chest tightened. My throat felt like it was closing.
---
The eldest priest leaned forward, his eyes sharp as steel.
"You must understand, Ark. Life and death are not games. A power like yours will demand sacrifices. Whether you admit it or not, whether you choose it or not. If you do not control it… it will consume you."
His words struck deep.
Was that true?
Every time I had revived someone—did it cost something? Was I stealing from another soul without knowing?
The man on the stretcher gave a dry chuckle, breaking the silence.
"You're shaking, kid. You don't look like a god. You look like me—scared, weak, and cornered. So what'll it be? Will you kill me just to prove to these holy bastards that you can?"
I flinched. His words dug deeper than the priests' accusations ever could.
---
Malrik's voice came quietly at my side.
"Ark… breathe. You do not have to rush."
He sounded calm, but I could hear the tension under his words. Even he couldn't interfere here—this was my trial alone.
I closed my eyes. My breathing was shallow, ragged.
I thought of my village.
Of Narsh's sharp voice dragging me out of doubt.
Of my father's proud, nervous face.
Of every time I revived someone—without thinking, just doing.
It always felt right. It always felt like saving, not stealing.
So why did I feel like a criminal here, standing in front of priests?
---
The youngest priest barked again, his tone venomous.
"Still hesitating? Then perhaps your power is nothing more than trickery!"
My teeth ground together.
"No," I muttered.
"It's not trickery."
The priests fell silent at my defiance.
I clenched my fists. "…But I won't take life just to prove I can give it back. That's not what my power is for."
The sharp-eyed priestess slammed her palm on the dais.
"Then you are a coward!"
The eldest priest raised a hand, silencing her.
His piercing gaze didn't waver from me.
"…Or perhaps he is something else entirely."
---
The man on the stretcher chuckled again, shaking his head.
"Ha… you really are a weird one, kid. Most people would've cut my throat just to get this over with."
He coughed, blood on his lips. "Maybe… maybe the world does need a fool like you."
His words echoed louder in my heart than the priests' judgment.
---
The eldest priest finally spoke, his tone heavy with finality.
"This trial is not concluded. But today's session is over. Take the boy away."
Malrik gave me the faintest nod and placed a hand on my shoulder. My legs felt like lead as he guided me out of the chamber.
When the great doors shut behind us, the sound reverberated in my chest like a heartbeat.
I had refused again.
But was I right?