-Callia-

  I slowly made my way up the stairs with hesitation in every step. With nobody to rush me forward, I wanted to bleed as much time as possible before reaching the office. The feeling that had been vaguely unpleasant initially began to sharpen the further up I went. It was a clingy stickiness that seemed to cling to me. I shiver in revulsion as I find an unpleasant but apt comparison. It was like fresh snot from a blown nose sticking to me even if I wanted to just wipe it away. However, the sense picking up the disgusting aura wasn’t any mortal sense but Sense Divinity. My thoughts on the matter halted as I finally reached the door at the top of the stairwell. I softly knock at the door, and immediately a ‘friendly voice’ responds, “Please come in.”

  The office was large, easily equal in size to a basketball court. The floors were furnished with ornate white carpet with gold lace for contrast and were so clean even my eyes couldn't find any signs of use. Tapestries of various noble houses lined the wall. My gut told me each of the tapestries represented some kind of power or connection associated with each. Shelves displayed countless expensive trophies, some weapons, some potions, and various antiques. Then there was the desk being carved with a master's grace, showing twenty women struggling to bear the weight of the counter above. Each figure contained so much detail there had to be a real-world equivalent for the artist to reference. My instincts started going wild as I stared at the figures, the hairs on my arm rising in alert as a suffocating feeling of danger pressed down on me. The moment I looked away from the desk for an escape, the pressure broke like an illusion. Despite that, the sick stickiness clung to everything in the room like it couldn’t bear to part with any of it.

  I finally snapped my attention back to the pope, who was watching me passively from his throne-like chair. Empathy gave me absolutely no reading whatsoever from the man. Still, I bent over stiffly to introduce myself.

  “Chosen Callia of Port Town. I’ve been brought here for violating my restriction of movement.” I couldn’t sense his emotions, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t use my perception skills to read the details of his face. I carefully tried to fill the information gap by reading him.

  “Pope Helod, I don’t usually intervene in squabbles among the lower clergy, but I had received information about an interesting new arrival and wanted to get acquainted.” He gives me a smile that is slick with political polish. Still, despite myself, I can’t help but feel a bit more reassured. Someone who wastes all their time on politics can’t be that dangerous.

  “I can tell you're apprehensive, but I promise this meeting only means good things for you since I certainly don’t want to make a bad impression. It’s rare for new chosen to come from the north ever since we’ve withdrawn our operations to response measures only. Your vigilance and strength are a testament to surviving without the citadel, but now that you’re here, you can relax.” His words seemed to seep into me despite my caution, striking right at the heart of my paranoia. With so many chosen in this place, any demons or potential demons wouldn’t be able to hold back. Impulse control didn’t seem to be a forte for them.

  “Now as for your punishment...” On impulse I interrupted the statement.

  “Wait, your Popelyness?” I pause as I struggle with what to call him, but I snap out of my moment and finish my interruption. “Before deciding on an appropriate punishment, you should understand I was acting with a legitimate reason.” He smiled widely and nodded, signaling me to continue after I hesitated.

  “My brother is with Queen Karia fighting the elvish invasion. They lack supplies, but my brother can establish a spatial gate between us, so the queen intends to visit to negotiate or take the needed supplies.” The man's eyes widened at this statement, and just then I received confirmation from Callen that the queen was crossing. Without hesitation I summoned my gate and opened it for Karia. The very next second she stepped through the door. An unusual feeling of urgency radiates from the queen as she shuts the door behind her. She looks around the unbelievably expensive furnishings stunned before I step forward.

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  “Welcome, your majesty, Queen Karia. To the office of the Pope of the Citadel.” In the corner of my eye I finally caught the first real change of expression on the pope's face that had keenly hid everything under the mask-like smile. It was a mix of shock and alertness. Like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar and was desperately looking for an escape. However, in the next moment, he settled back into his perfect smile. His eyes, however, sharpened ever so slightly in a carefully concealed anger. Even more interesting was how the anger immediately faded, replaced with the slightest curling of the corners of his mouth upward, like an unexpected present had revealed itself. The pope promptly stood, giving a careful bow to the queen, who was now giving him her full attention.

  “Your visit is most unexpected and sudden, your grace. However, you can rest assured I’ll arrange for all requests to be promptly prepared and delivered.” The pope conceded any negotiations before the queen could even say a word. With nothing left to discuss, Karia could only nod briefly, saying “good” before turning to me. Seeing her smile widely, I gave a grin back. She moved next to me with her supernatural swiftness and patted my head like some kind of dog. I pout and stare at her with resentment, causing her to stop and chuckle.

  “You are so much cuter than your brother. He’s way too serious all the time.” She sighs exaggeratedly before continuing. “It seems my visit will be short this time since war doesn’t wait.” I can’t help but sigh as well. She cut through the tension of the meeting like a baseball bat through a window, but just as suddenly I had to send her back. Before leaving, she gave one last warning to the pope.

  “Callia’s mine, so keep your sleazy hands out of her business.” Just like that, it was just me and the pope again. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the conversation to continue.

  Ares

  Yeomarr didn’t hesitate opening fire with her arrows while the other knights flanked the duke, trying to cut off his escape. Despite the point-blank arrows, the duke easily swatted them aside. Turning his attention to the others. With insane precision and lazy grace, the duke weaved through the coordinated swings, matching his speed to the paladins trying to attack him. Through incredible skill and experience, he batted a sword aside while ducking beneath another. Then he took that duck and spun into a low kick, knocking the foremost knights to the ground.

  “Footwork is key; those who fall die.” The duke announced with cold certainty as he grabbed an incoming spear and forcefully pushed it down into the armpit of a fallen paladin.

  “Part is the risk of overextending.” The duke continued his lecture mid-combat while taking advantage of the spearman whose weapon was stuck in the fallen companion. In a swift motion he pushed forward, grabbing and twisting the man's head 180 degrees while avoiding the swipe from the other fallen paladin. The others tried to adjust their attacks, but the duke casually blocked using the dead man.

  “Accounting for sheer strength with strategy is also essential.” There was no hesitation in the speech while he grabbed the dead man’s leg and used him like a club. He gave a full spin, knocking back four encroaching paladins before the corpse's leg ripped free from the torso. Of the ten men who entered with her, five had died in a matter of seconds, and four of the remaining five had just been knocked prone. With the only one standing being one of the first two who had gotten back up after being knocked down by the leg sweep. Seeing this, Yeomarr decisively obeyed the captain's order to flee. She turned and ran as hard as she could, taking potshots at the duke from down the hall as she fled. A voice echoed back as she ran.

  “Fighting in melee with an enemy who is under ranged fire is also risky and needs to be done with care.” The squelching of an arrow piercing flesh didn’t inspire confidence in Yeomarr as she reached the door. She rammed the door at full speed with her shoulder. The door took the initial impact with a jarring bang before tipping over. The impact, however, completely shattered her shoulder. She dropped her bow scrambling for the gate. It only took a few moments for her to make it to the gate, but she stopped as the duke, now soaked in blood, leaned against the door holding a severed head in hand.

  “A shame the fun ended before it could truly begin.” He tossed the head aside, stepping confidently towards Yeomarr. She collapsed to the ground, her legs giving out under the pressure. “You know, in another world I was once praised as a God of War. Maybe I’ll try to carve a similar title in the blood of this world.” He gave a cocky grin as he grabbed Yeomarr by the hair, dragging her back to the castle. “I think I’ll be taking you as my prize for this fight. I happen to know a little girl whom you will make a great hostage for controlling.”