Chapter 3 - Prologue - Final Part

18 Years Later

It was utter chaos in the church of Magia. Injured men and women were coming in by the dozens, all thanks to the recent demon attacks that had been plaguing the land. Their terrible dark magic left cursed wounds on any who were injured by them, wounds that only the holiest of priests, gifted in the knowledge of light magic and with more than a few points in their Intelligence attribute, could ever hope to cure.

One of those men was Father Varcon, the archpriest of this church.

Level 2

MP: 200/200

Attributes

Strength: 1

Dexterity: 1

Constitution: 1

Intelligence: 20

Wisdom: 20

Luck: 5

He was a seventy-four-year-old man dressed in the typical white and gold of those who worshipped Magia. But, right now, he had bigger things to worry about. For, the Golden Crystal of Magia, the eternal selector of great heroes, was spinning once again.

It seems the next Savior is to be chosen today. He noted, kneeling in front of the crystal. And with Magia's blessings, of course, comes opportunity.

"Father Varcon!" A deacon called out to him.

"Yes?" He did not turn back. His eyes remained on the spinning crystal. Its glorious frame was like sugar for his eyes.

"We need your assistance, your holiness. Please, these men need aid!"

"Ah. I see." He nodded to himself. "Very well, show me to them."

All in all, there were around 20 injured men and women. He inspected their conditions carefully. Some had only been scratched, others had monstrous gashes across their torsos that let their intestines threaten to spill out. Out of the 20, he believed maybe half could live.

So, he saved four of them.

So as to not be discriminatory, he chose the four randomly.

Let's see... I'll count to three and I'll save someone every time I land on three.

"No, this one is doomed," he would tell the deacon, passing by some he chose to let pass away. One, two... He came upon one knight, a young cinnamon-haired woman, and smirked. It seems today is your lucky day, Magia smiles upon you, warrior.

"This one can be saved."

The deacon who, of course, had no idea of the true extent of Varcon's healing power, grinned from ear to ear with glee. Varcon laid his hands over her wounds and said the incantation of the spell.

"Oh, blessed pantheon, shine upon me!"

His hands were encapsulated in a blueish-white light and the wound began to close as the violet curse disappeared.

"You are amazing, your holiness!"

"Save your praises for Magia. It is through her grace that I work." Varcon told the deacon.

"Y-Yes, sir!" But then, the deacon's eyes fell on the other wounded warriors. Varcon saw him gulp. "May I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Can these folks truly not be saved?" He asked. "I… I don't mean to doubt your word, sir, your holiness, but I… Are these wounds truly that deep?"

At that, Varcon smiled.

"You may yet have a future here." He whispered. "Come."

"What?"

"Follow me," Varcon instructed and, with a bowed head, the deacon did so.

Deeper into the church, Varcon took him to where the crystal was, shining in all its glory. The sounds of panicked nurses and praying priests faded into the background as Varcon pointed at the crystal. It took up so much space that, when standing in front of it, one could not help but stand in awe.

"Do you see it?"

"Y-Yes, father." Varcon could tell he was as floored by the sight as most newcomers to the church were. It was one of their greatest treasures.

"It will select a new Savior today."

"T-TRULY!?" The deacon shouted.

"Yes." Varcon did not take his eyes off the object. It was, to him, Magia's power incarnate. A reminder of who he served and why. "You were right, by the way."

"What?"

"Some of those men, some of those women, could have been saved." Varcon nodded. The deacon looked alarmed. "Can you guess why I didn't?"

"I… No, sir, I cannot."

"It is because of the scene. I allowed them to perish so that this scene," he turned and gestured out, to the people panicking as more warriors died in front of them, "could be formed. See, the crystal, deacon, only guarantees that a Savior will be chosen. It does not, however, guarantee what sort of person the Savior will be. So, I ask you. What is of more use to us, to Jade, to Nova, a Savior that believes this problem is a minor one or one who sees this horror and feels motivated to stand on the frontlines and be the shield Nova needs." He looked at the deacon. "Do you understand? Seeing this, the hero will be rallied. Their heart will be torn and their immense anger towards the demons will be our victory."

"I… I see!" The deacon bowed. "Thank you for explaining it to me, I am a fool."

"No." Varcon shook his head. "You are reasonable."

And being reasonable is not what this world needs right now. It needs a leader, it needs me.

Then, the crystal spun once again and a light was cast from it! It shone on the wall, pointing out the church and to the city, no doubt.

"Ah. I see it is time." Varcon said. "Accompany me, deacon. Let us go meet our new hero."