"High… High Ritualist?"
"…Yeah? Is that name familiar or something?"
"…"
At that moment, the shard of a foreign memory placed itself inside Scott's mind. He had the instinctive urge that he needed to meet this "High Ritualist", and as soon as possible.
"…It's… it's nothing. Let's head to the nearest cathedral, shall we?" Scott said.
The young disciple nodded.
"I'll have to leave you when we arrive at "Hanus Sols of the North", one of the four main regions of Harpinbale, but not including the New Capital. This region isn't as dangerous as the others, and "He, the Sun" might be your next bet if you do find yourself in trouble with the clergy."
"But anyway, the Great Cathedral is also nearby, so hurry up and let's go!" the young disciple yelled, pointing onwards.
***
"…Woah… this place is huge!" Scott exclaimed, staring at the large, magnificent iron gates of a nearby city from afar.
At first glance, you could tell you had made it to a place that exuded the excellence and merit of a great city.
"This is the City of Iris. Where "The First Shrine of Aria" lies."
"First Shrine of Aria?" Scott said, continuing on the stone road.
He walked alongside the young disciple, who was staring at the two intricately carved female statues up ahead in front of the city, both of them a few steps away from each other.
"Aria and Pan. I don't know much about Pan, so I'll just tell you about Aria." The young disciple said, his tone exuding respect and awe.
"A long, long time ago, she was a Saint. A powerful Saint as well, loyal to the Deity she righteously served. However, in an unfortunate battle, she fought against a "blind swordsman" who held "Divinity" in his blade, and even though the outcome of the battle is not known, she "died" soon after."
"She died?" Scott questioned.
"Well, not a real "death", since, past a certain "stage", you cannot die from ordinary means."
"But… Aria is in a state of "non-existence", one that she can't truly come back from… so we can only honour her with shrines."
Scott nodded his head, his gaze directed back at the statues.
"Come this way," The young disciple said, leading Scott to an open side entrance, "This passage leads directly to the Cathedral, where we'll meet the holy priest."
Scott nodded, following him further into the entrance and through a wide, grand passageway.
A moment later, the two of them found their way to the great stone stairs that were decorated with exquisitely carved walls and lit up with rows of candlelights, illuminating every step of the way.
And then, they arrived, entering the grand cathedral hall through the leftmost wooden doors.
"Father Morn! I'm back!" The young disciple exclaimed, approaching the altar with Scott.
Scott noticed a wise old man close by, adorned in the robes of a bishop. But, oddly enough, this person tended to a large tree that also looked oddly like a branch.
"I brought a new visitor!"
The young disciple paused in his stroll towards the altar as he was interrupted with simply the raising of a hand.
"…Black-haired youth… disciple of our faith… you have brought into this sacred place, a cursed man."
"A man, with the ailment of "Rotting Death", eating away at his vigour and remaining life."
With these words, the deacon, Father Morn, turned around, revealing his clothes. Purplish-red silk robes, adorned with many gold garments, brooches and golden branches. He also held a staff in his hand.
"…As a holy bishop, of course, I shall give you a chance to explain your circumstances."
At that very instance, a fierce-looking man appeared beside him, holding a shattered sword imbued with the power of crimson flames.
"…But, if you fail to give any answer, you will burn, in the fires of the Vanquisher's Fleshflame*!"
Scott's eyes widened in shock.
"Tell me, stranger, how you have obtained such a profound curse, expanding within your body?" Father Morn asked as the man next to him pointed the sword at him.
"What is happening to your arm at the moment will slowly corrode away at your entire body."
"…Yet, what befuddles me even more is that you also have traces of a demon's essence flowing within you."
"So, answer my question, and answer quickly."
Scott blinked, and mustered the words:
"I don't know."
The young disciple glanced nervously at Father Morn, whose expression didn't change much as he looked at the armed man next to him.
"…Fascinating. So, you're telling the truth."
"…Very fascinating indeed." Father Morn said, before saying to the bladed man, "Michael, put down your weapon."
"I knew it. Father Morn was testing you!" The young disciple exclaimed in relief.
Father Morn nodded. "Yes, yes. Now shoo, young disciple."
"Anyway, I am quite interested in you, stranger. What is your name?"
"…Scott." He replied, stating the only part of his identity he knew.
"…Hm. If I can guess the reason why your body is in such a state… Perhaps it could be because of the knowledge-seeking tendencies you may have."
"What do you mean?" Scott asked, curious about these "tendencies" of his.
"…I'm not sure. The only reason I can come up with is that you are a disciple of the Blind God. "Their" followers certainly are the most obsessed with the art of alchemy and cauldrons, after all, and turning your own body into a giant cauldron of materials to use may not be off-limits…"
The young disciple, who had not yet left, nodded feverishly.
"Ah, Father Morn, it's true that he has the Blind God's Mark!"
Father Morn nodded.
"As I thought. Then, that means my only job is to cleanse you. Step aside, Michael, for this young fellow will not do any harm."
The man with the shattered blade sighed but complied with the bishop's order.
"Come, so that I may cleanse you of the filth." Father Morn said.
Following this, Scott approached the Bloodsoaked Altar closer, following after the bishop, who had now picked up a long, bladed weapon. A spear.
"For this ritual to work, you must be stabbed through the heart with the Ritualistic Spear of Oaths, and your blood must seep into the roots of the divine tree."
"The divine trees that are scattered across the lands are the "ley lines" of this world, originating from the interconnected network of roots deep within the earth, and can even alter the mind. It may have some adverse effects, but it won't worsen the state of your body."
Scott nodded and prepared for the ritual.
Stabbed through the heart, huh…? Well, if I'll live through it, then I'm fine with that.
"Alright. Let's do this."
Father Morn nodded and closed his eyes, gesturing for Scott to do the same, before approaching him slowly. On the way, he chanted short utterances in an ancient language Scott had never heard of before, and struck the ground in short intervals until he reached him.
"I plead to ignite the instrument of the Chained God's power, I plead to ignite it with the Vanquisher's Fleshflame."
"Upon "Their" grace, a child of the Blind One shall be renewed."
"O Deity, grant it to us, in "Your" Almighty name."
At that second, the Ritualistic Spear of Oaths blazed brightly with the intensity of crimson flames that seemed almost alive.
"This will hurt. Tense yourself." Father Morn said.
Scott did just that, and the spear of crimson flames pierced through his body and flesh, stabbing him into the great branch in a gruelling way.
But then, pure light seeped from his wound, which caught the attention of the priest.
"What is this?" Father Morn said, as he closely inspected some of the strange essence coming out of Scott's body, with Michael joining right beside him.
"Could it be…?"
Meanwhile, Scott's mind and soul had been transported elsewhere. Unlike what usually happens during "cleanse" and "renewal", he was sent into the deep delves of his mind, to open up the first "shard" of his memories.