Chapter 5, It Had Been 130 Years, After All

Chapter 5, It Had Been 130 Years, After All

...That was a bit of a mouthful. An enemy of the people, huh? Not the first time hed be a fugitive, but Honestly speaking, that period of his too-long life had been one of the worst ones, and he couldnt imagine doing it all over again.

He just wanted peace and quiet. To meet his family and live again. He wondered how his little sister was doing. She was young, he remembered that. Now she must almost be an adult. Maybe shed even gotten married? As for his brother A hard worker. An adult by now. And his parents Have they gotten old? It was the duty of a child to care for their parent, and just leaving them alone for ten years He almost felt ashamed. Yes, he had much to do. And none of those things included making a mess. Not declaring war, not harming anybody Hed cooperate. I agree.

The officer gave a faint smile. Glad to hear it. Officer Adam, will you return to interrogate the other otherworlder? Details on what happened before he got here, who he is, what country he works for anything like that.

Yes, sir!Follow current novels at novelhall.com)

The officer turned back to Kreig. And as for you Tell me everything. What happened after you were summoned?

A simple question to begin with. For the first time in thirty years, Kreig spoke fluently. For the first time in a hundred years, he spoke English without restraint.

He was summoned a few days after his 17th birthday, alongside four of his classmates. At the mention of his former comrades, the interrogating officer perked up, seemingly both in mild apprehension and hope. Kreig quickly informed him that these people had died long since. The officer grumbled something about it being a great tragedy before asking for their names so that he could send out a report to the victims families. Kreig obliged, though he noted rather unhappily that the officer didnt seem to consider Kreigs loss of innocence to be a tragedy of any kind.

Then, the officer asked how they died. That took him back. Back to before he became a warrior, before he had taken a life and before he became a man.

Eh? Whats this? Kreig had been the third person summoned, but the others dropped in soon after. All rising from one of five marble caskets, finding themselves inside a pristine white church, filled to the brim with holy figures and peasants crying and weeping for the occasion. Where am I?... A man approached him, dressed in the most extravagant white robes Kreig had ever seen. The church smelled like black mould and burnt pine needles.

A black ball was forced into his mouth and a pair of strong hands clasped his lip shut. He tried to fight or resist, but in the end, all he could do was swallow. It tasted like some kind of mushroom hed never had before.

The people in the church all spoke a refined, complex English that Kreig barely understood, but with his classmates there, he felt less afraid that he should have. A priest welcomed them with open arms and a wide grin, telling them to forgive their lack of introduction. They had been summoned by the Holy Order of White Roots as their Bodies. Heroes. To fight for their cause. Fight for a God Kreig didnt know, didnt understand. What they had eaten before was a Messiahs Egg. All of them had been given one, and in a few weeks, they would awaken the aptitude to become oracles of God.

And there was nothing they could do about it.

They were isolated in a small, closed space, stripped of all their belongings and fed with only wheat and water. Somehow, it was enough. They didnt die. For six days and six nights, they grew closer, grew to slowly accept their new life. Kreig missed his family. Two of the others had reasons not to. Then, on the seventh day, a black mushroom sprouted from Kreigs left hand. Something - everything - told him to eat it. He did.

Awaken

He became their loyal soldier. He became their loyal officer. He became their loyal captain of the royal guard.

Only in his heart did he bear resentment for their treatment of him. For the deaths of his comrades. For their sin of letting him live.

...But he didnt live badly. He made a living. He was able to live in his own house. He was able to gain comrades. And, after acting as a captain for long enough, the Empire allowed him the special privilege of forming a monster-combating party, which he gladly did. It reminded him of his old party, his old friends, but He was ready to put it behind him. Hed been in that world for 50 years. He could forgive, and if he was allowed to, he would gladly forget.

He formed a true loyalty. With his party, he grew stronger. He grew to like them, to consider them friends, and they seemed to feel the same about him. They fought in wars for the sake of the Empire. Killed for the sake of the Empire. The only time he spoke English was for his nightly prayer, and even then, it was only to keep his faith alive. Not for the sake of the Holy Order.

Things were good. He was comfortable.

That was, until the nearby kingdoms became aware of his existence.

It happened out of nowhere and he wasnt aware of it until his own soldiers tried to attack him. Tried to capture him. Tried to execute him. The Empire had turned on him the second public outcry from their allies forced them to. So, he ran. His party fought alongside him and ran with him. They were ready to die to keep him alive.

And they did. One by one, during a period of nine years, they were all killed. In the end, after 79 years in a world he no longer considered welcoming, he gave up. There was nothing for him to live for. Even his own God had abandoned him. He resigned to the gallows.

...But he was not killed.

Much like so many years ago, he was kept in captivity. Though, due to his strength, due to what the Empire considered to be a possible great threat, he was locked beneath everything. In a room that had once kept a Demonic Dragon, there, he remained in isolation. There was neither light nor torture. No humans either. Pure and simple isolation. Alone. In that darkness, the only thing that kept him even slightly sane was his prayer. He trained. He prayed, he chanted, he kept himself moving.

But it was twenty years. Enough to make any man break.

He had forgotten what the sky looked like. He had never been a creative or intelligent man. His mind could not conjure things to keep him busy, things to keep him sane.

In the end, what saved him was the skill Prayer reaching the maximum level and evolving into Shine of Divine Light. He escaped.

But he was nothing.