The Oracle of the Healing Hero

Not long ago, within the central Holy Temple of Light in Sistine, the capital of the Holy Church State.

Julius II, the reigning Pope of the Church of Light, sat upon a prayer chair within the temple. He listened intently as his subordinate delivered a report detailing the latest disaster to plague the Holy Roman Empire.

“The Elven Defense Line, Paimon Fortress, Buoluo Village, Hannuo Village, Cologne Village… In total, one defense line, a barony, and twenty villages have fallen victim to this inexplicable calamity,” Rodrigo, the Bishop of the Holy Church State and current leader of the Templar Knights, reported with a troubled expression.

” ‘Your Holiness, only those with exceptionally high levels of magic can withstand the ravages of this affliction. For ordinary people, however, contracting this disease is tantamount to a death sentence.’ ”

Julius II’s face was a map of deep-set wrinkles, as if carved by blades and axes. His pale, thick brows knitted together, while his aged, profound eyes held a captivating brilliance.

Sunlight, as if in reverence, crept discreetly across the central dome of the temple, hesitant to cast its full force upon him. At this moment, the nearly centenarian Pope exuded an aura both sacred and profoundly wise.

” ‘Presently, no effective remedy has been discovered,’ ” Rodrigo continued, a chilling glint entering his eyes. ” ‘I have already ordered the Baron of Paimon Fortress to impose a strict lockdown on his surrounding territories, forbidding anyone from departing.’ ”

” ‘Concurrently, the Barbarigo family will deploy there to provide assistance with the necessary tasks. If we fail to uncover a viable solution, our only recourse will be to…’ ”

” ‘It cannot be contained,’ ” Julius II murmured, his hands intertwining, his expression utterly inscrutable. ” ‘Human nature is an unstoppable force. Driven by the instinct to survive, those people will undoubtedly desperately flee that afflicted region.’ ”

” ‘But if we do not take such measures—’ ”

” ‘Rodrigo,’ ” the Pope gently interjected, tapping his own temple as if to indicate a profound thought. ” ‘A new divine oracle has been received.’ ”

” ‘Please reveal it, Your Holiness,’ ” Rodrigo responded, the supreme leader of the Templar Knights. He dropped to one knee, bowing his head in an expression of profound piety.

” ‘Listen closely,’ ” the Pope commanded, his voice resonating. ” ‘The word of God is not merely for your ears, but through you, it is meant for all of God’s children.’ ”

He slowly rose to his feet, his towering form now considerably taller than even Rodrigo, who had stood erect moments before. ” ‘To all the faithful children of God across this world… God has witnessed. He has seen your honest toil each day; your diligent efforts to earn sustenance; your careful frugality, accumulating resources day by day to forge a beautiful life for your families.’ ”

The Pope moved with deliberate slowness from the prayer chair towards the central altar. His hand, resting upon the prayer table, gently caressed its surface.

” ‘God has witnessed your misfortunes,’ ” he intoned. ” ‘He has seen a terrible calamity now rampant in a distant corner of the continent.’ ”

” ‘God has also perceived both your beauty and your ugliness,’ ” the Pope declared. ” ‘He has seen those who extend a helping hand in the face of disaster; those who succumb to despair; and those who unleash acts of malice.’ ”

He ascended the altar, placing his hand upon the pristine white stone table. ” ‘Not a single word or deed of yours escapes the all-seeing eyes of God.’ ”

The Pope produced a small knife, then gently sliced open his own palm, allowing fresh, crimson blood to well up and trickle onto the pristine white tabletop.

” ‘For every action you undertake, God will, in due course, exact a commensurate price,’ ” the Pope stated, his face devoid of both joy and sorrow. It was as if he meant to convey that God remained indifferent to all their endeavors.

The blood on the stone table slowly coalesced into the intricate pattern of a magic array. The Pope, seemingly oblivious to pain, clenched his fist and brought it down with a forceful strike.

The sudden impact, aimed directly at the center of the array, seemed to activate an unseen mechanism. The blood within the magic circle began to tremble violently, as if brought to a boil.

” ‘Fifty years,’ ” he declared, his voice somber. ” ‘For fifty long years, God’s messenger has been absent from this continent. Though the land has begun to recover from the ravages inflicted by the Demon Lord, it now requires the power of healing more desperately than ever before.’ ”

A blinding golden light erupted from the stone table…

” ‘And so, God’s messenger, the Hero of Healing, shall descend upon the earth—’ ”

As the golden light receded, a peculiar gauntlet materialized upon the stone table. Crafted from metals of cyan and dark purple hues, its outer surface bore the unsettling ornamentation of a massive eye.

Though that eerie eye remained tightly shut, its mere presence was enough to send a chill down one’s spine.

” ‘The Divine Gauntlet Georgius…’ ” Rodrigo uttered, a visible gulp catching in his throat. ” ‘It is the second-ranked divine artifact, a gauntlet capable of healing all ailments.’ ”

A slight pallor had settled on the Pope’s face, yet it was now graced with a faint smile. ” ‘While it may not rival the Holy Sword, it will certainly suffice,’ ” he remarked.

A trace of regret, however, soon shadowed his expression. ” ‘It is truly a pity… A Hero who meets an unnatural end will reincarnate. Similarly, if the Demon Lord perishes unnaturally, the next Demon Lord will awaken.’ ”

” ‘By all accounts, we should have been able to locate the Hero’s reincarnation using our traditional methods…’ ”

” ‘We have made numerous attempts, but our inability to sense the Hero’s reincarnation is, I confess, a grave dereliction of my duty,’ ” Rodrigo admitted, his voice tinged with guilt.

” ‘It matters not,’ ” the Pope dismissed with a wave of his hand. ” ‘In any case, the Demon Lord is unlikely to resurface. Perhaps it is even a preferable outcome for both the Holy Sword and the Hero who wields it to vanish.’ ”

” ‘Your Holiness, who has been chosen as the Hero this time?’ ” Rodrigo inquired.

The Pope’s hand settled upon the gauntlet. Abruptly, the eerie eye sprang open, its blood-red pupil swiveling as if imbued with life.

” ‘Holy Roman Empire… Paimon Fortress… Buoluo Village… Kayar…’ ” A raspy, uncanny voice resonated from the gauntlet.

****

Several imposing Templar Knights respectfully ushered the newly designated Hero into a waiting carriage. They then turned their attention to managing the unfolding situation.

A trail of tears streaked down Kayar’s gaunt face. He clutched the cold body in his embrace, his expression a complicated mix of emotions.

” ‘Ensure the two remaining bodies in the house are cremated,’ ” a Templar Knight officer instructed a subordinate, patting their shoulder reassuringly. ” ‘Do not fear; this disease cannot infect those with higher magical reserves.’ ”

‘Magic? So, the reason I hadn’t been infected by my sister earlier was because I possessed magic within me?’

‘Yet, I hadn’t reached adulthood then; my abilities shouldn’t have awakened yet…’

‘Was I simply… special?’

” ‘Sir Hero,’ ” a handsome knight, driving the carriage from the front, announced. ” ‘We shall proceed to the nearest church first. Our Knight Commander has a matter of importance to discuss with you.’ ”

‘A Hero… I am a Hero now? How utterly laughable. A renowned Hero, yet I couldn’t even protect my own kin…’

‘I am unworthy of being the Hero…’

‘What is the purpose of it all… What good is being this Hero…’

Kayar, in a fit of agitated despair, began to pound his own head, his face twisting into an expression of anguished madness. He gripped the hand of the lifeless body, and the bone-chilling cold that emanated from its palm pierced him to the very core.

” ‘Your Highness, please accept our condolences,’ ” the knight in the front offered softly.

Kayar offered no reply, merely tightening his embrace around the lifeless form.

” ‘However, if it is you, Your Highness,’ ” the Templar Knight continued from the front, ” ‘there might just be a way to bring the deceased back to life.’ ”

” ‘Do not jest,’ ” Kayar’s voice was laced with bitterness.

” ‘I am not jesting. Have you ever heard of the Philosopher’s Stone?’ ” the Templar Knight asked. ” ‘Its whereabouts became unknown after the previous Hero and Demon Lord perished in battle. Yet, it is whispered that this legendary divine artifact possesses the power to resurrect the dead.’ ”

The Templar Knight tugged on the reins, redirecting the carriage. ” ‘As the Hero, you will undoubtedly have the opportunity to rediscover this artifact.’ ”

‘The Philosopher’s Stone…’ Kayar silently committed the name to memory. Simultaneously, he dug his fingernails forcefully into his palm, using the sharp sting of pain to dull the edges of his profound sorrow.

Before long, the carriage came to a halt. Kayar turned his head, recognizing the building as the very church where the priest who had once cast him out now served.

Now, however, before the church doors, the priest who had always worn a complacent smile was prostrate beneath Kayar’s carriage. His mask of cheerfulness had vanished, replaced by a body trembling uncontrollably.

Evidently, the man had already received word of Kayar’s impending arrival.

Kayar clearly observed the figure kneeling on the ground. The man’s trembling reminded him of a small animal awaiting slaughter.

‘A laughable wretch, a detestable scoundrel…’

‘If only you had been willing to take in my sister back then…’

A slow, consuming fire of hatred ignited deep within his heart, an inferno that was both unstoppable and, to him, entirely welcome.

He gently laid the body from his arms onto the carriage. Then, he stepped down, placing his foot squarely on the head of that worthless priest. The man offered no resistance, as if his entire body had turned to jelly, only trembling with even greater intensity.

” ‘Tell me,’ ” Kayar inquired of the Templar Knight standing nearby, ” ‘as the Hero, am I permitted to do anything I wish?’ ”

The Templar Knight bowed his head respectfully, then slowly replied, ” ‘Aside from His Holiness the Pope and my supreme commander, the Grand Master of the Templar Knights, no one possesses the authority to impede your actions.’ ”

” ‘Heh heh…’ ” Kayar chuckled darkly, his foot slowly increasing its pressure. The priest’s face beneath him was already grotesquely distorted. ” ‘Is this, then, what it means to be a Hero…’ ”

” ‘Mercy…’ ” the priest pleaded, his face a mask of abject terror, slimy saliva dribbling onto the ground. ” ‘I am willing to offer anything, anything at all, if only you will spare my life…’ ”

A sudden wave of revulsion washed over Kayar. He sharply lifted his right foot and delivered a brutal kick to the man’s face. The priest’s head, along with his body, bounced backward like a deflated ball, several teeth dislodged, and blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.

” ‘How utterly uninteresting…’ ” Kayar muttered, a sense of dissatisfaction settling over him after kicking the man’s face aside. ” ‘This kind of revenge is utterly pointless…’ ”

‘Should I beat him to death with my fists? Stab him with a blade? Burn him alive?’

‘Simply ending his life in such a mundane way… it holds no appeal.’

‘Is there no method by which I can truly savor the exhilarating thrill of vengeance…’

He advanced, placing his foot once more upon the scoundrel’s head, and began to ponder deliberately.

” ‘Your Highness the Hero,’ ” a tall Templar Knight approached. The man wore a red turban and sported a rugged, thick black beard. ” ‘I am Silvio Barbarigo, the Knight Commander, responsible for overseeing the Templar Knights within the Paimon Fortress barony.’ ”

Kayar turned to face him. The man was remarkably tall and powerfully built, clearly no ordinary knight.

Silvio was dressed in a black silk tunic adorned with gold patterns. A cross-shaped golden necklace hung around his neck, and a stiff cowhide belt cinched his waist. He wore leather trousers and sturdy, thick leather boots. With his left hand resting on the patterned longsword at his hip and his right hand tucked into his waist, his expression was severe, exuding an air of fierce menace at all times.

Kayar, however, was in no mood for introductions, merely casting a cold glance at him. ” ‘What do you want?’ ”

Silvio remained unfazed by the Hero’s demeanor. As a Templar Knight, serving the Hero, even sacrificing his life, was his sacred duty. From behind him, he produced a strange gauntlet and presented it to Kayar.

” ‘This is the Divine Gauntlet Georgius, a gauntlet that symbolizes the healing of all things. It is your weapon.’ ”

Upon seeing the peculiar gauntlet, Kayar felt a flicker of confusion. This artifact, terrifying and malevolent in appearance, was actually the Hero’s weapon?

‘Never mind that,’ he thought.

He donned the gauntlet, immediately feeling a surge of power course through his body. The eerie, large eye on its surface abruptly opened, its blood-red pupil swirling incessantly.

Kayar’s body was overcome with a strange, stimulating sensation, as if countless insects were breeding and copulating within his mind.

Moments later, knowledge regarding the use of this divine artifact also manifested within his thoughts.

” ‘Interesting…’ ” He blinked, a grotesque smile stretching across his lips, his expression one of deranged ecstasy. ” ‘So, it can do this?’ ”

Slowly, he positioned the gauntlet over the priest’s head, ignoring the man’s terrified gaze. Kayar, like a demon, uttered the incantation:

” ‘Heal—’ ”

[Degrade] Transforms the target into a state of destruction, interfering with the physical body, ignoring all resistance.

The priest’s eyes burst open, as if squeezed, and his brain shattered like a fragile gourd. Concurrently, his body began to wither and dissolve, much like snow melting under the sun. First, his skin peeled and disintegrated, followed by his muscles and bones, until his entire form was reduced to a pool of blood.

Witnessing such a horrifying spectacle, the Templar Knights present felt a tremor in their hearts.

‘Is this truly the Hero of Healing?’

Kayar gazed at the puddle of blood on the ground. The initial thrill of revenge vanished in an instant, his heart now filled with a profound emptiness.

‘So this is all it amounts to…’

He looked down at the fearsome divine artifact on his hand.

‘If only I had obtained such power sooner…’

‘If only I had been this strong earlier…’

‘If only…’

” ‘Hmph—’ ” Kayar turned and re-entered the carriage, disregarding the astonished or horrified stares of the surrounding knights.

” ‘Sister…’ ” He gently placed the gauntlet over the cold face of the body, his voice tender. ” ‘Forgive me for this inconvenience.’ ”

” ‘Heal…’ ”

[Improve] Arbitrarily changes the form of the touched object, but its numerical values remain unaltered.

The cold body glowed softly under the divine artifact’s influence, then slowly transformed into a small, crystal-like sphere. Kayar placed it carefully into his embrace, securing it tightly. Having completed these actions, he once again descended from the carriage, his expression now devoid of any warmth.

” ‘The Philosopher’s Stone…’ ” Kayar clenched the hand wearing the gauntlet, his voice resolute. ” ‘I will obtain it!’ ”

He and the knights then proceeded into the church…