𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇

TWENTY THREE.

Have you heard of it? About the upcoming war?

It was all everyone was talking about these days. Once, they had condemned the very act of gossiping—but now, whispers and murmurs slipped out easily from people's lips, flowing into the ears of the others. The people of the church, in a strange way, almost seemed eager for it. Y/n had been sick to hear someone dub it as the ultimate cleansing. All of them seemed to be smug, sure of themselves that they would win.

And if Y/n weighed the possibility...

Yes. The chances of the Church winning were high. The Imperial Army had trained knights, had plenty of luxury, but the Church had more. Though dystopian, the surroundings of the Church was luxurious—only in Y/n's eyes did it look bleak. And besides, the church operated with...with magic. And he still did not know if it was dark magic, and if the people were mere sacrifices meant to fuel it.

Why does this game have so many obstacles?

Y/n was at the stage where he really didn't know what would happen next. He could perish in the war; Anton could die in the war, though he highly doubted that—Lucas...Lucas might...

No. Whatever happened, the only thing that would somehow work in Y/n's favor was that if he used that priest's warped affections for him, and begged him, then perhaps he could spare Lucas...

Hah, who was he even kidding? Anton had just threatened Y/n with Lucas. And his whole being really, really wanted Anton to die in the war but the chances of that happening was dismally low. Anton was probably the most powerful person in the Church, and perhaps even the Imperial Army—Y/n had witnessed it. The terrifying beauty of the flames coming out to salvage all of humankind, to cleanse one of their sins...to change the world into one where sinners no longer resided.

Everything about him leaving the game depended on Anton.

Y/n had started to notice that with each passing day, every time he spent more time with Anton, his XP points rose. He didn't know if there would be a limit, or if...certain activities would make it easier for him to level up, but if it didn't have a limit—then—then—

The system, in a way—it was—

[ Congrats on leveling up to level eight! Would you want to learn of the Chosen One oracle?
Y E S / N O ]

Y/n did not wish to let his hopes soar up—it would only make it bitter when he crashed down. So instead, he swallowed and hesitantly pressed the yes button. It took some time for a screen to materialize in front of his eyes, and Y/n started to see a bunch of jumbled, messy words form.

The Oracle's purpose is to bring a chosen one from a different world...

A different world. Y/n deflated. So Anton knew that bit.

...to help cleanse the world of sinners. It would help to change the bloodied hands of one to wool, to pureness and freshness. It will help cover up the sins and all the damned will build a new layer of skin, as well as a new level of devotion and loyalty to God. Do not worry my child, for the beginning of the end is near.

Until destruction comes, and the world will restart again.

Y/n read through all of that extremely confused. What? What was this even parroting on about? It sounded rushed, deranged, pure evil—

There was a slow, eventual, crackling sound. The screen's words started to distort, the words rushing tighter in a messy incoherent mess that was impossible to read. Along with it came the static sounds of a television broken down and smashed with a hammer.