The pain had receded, lingering only as a dull ache at the edge of his soul.
Elion frantically pulled up his sleeve to check the scripture on his arm. Sure enough, a new line had appeared where the affinity was inscribed:
[Affinity: Forgotten King]
What is that supposed to mean?
There were only six affinities ever known to be possessed by humans: Growth and Rebirth, Guidance and Direction, War and Conquest, Memories and Time, Mercy and Hope, and Craft and Creation.
It was theorized that an affinity to the Sun and Skies might have once existed in the Scorn Outskirts, but it had never been confirmed. The people there were either zealous worshippers of the Sun or too poor to settle in the great cities.
But this Forgotten King was completely new.
Affinities were supposed to be tied to the divine—was this Forgotten King some kind of lost god? Possibly, but that was a far-fetched conclusion given the few clues Elion had managed to gather.
He looked again at the line. Beneath it, the description read:
[The Forgotten King was a human who challenged divinity without hosting any concepts. An existence built from nothing, who brought great change to the world.
He swore an oath to nothing but himself:
Defeat the plague at the center of all mortal realms.
He failed.
But he succeeded at his true aim:
To create the spark that would elevate the very concept of humanity to a higher realm.
What he left behind is the key—a legacy forged from fragments of the eight gods.]
[Legacy:
Relay 1: ###
Relay 2: ###
Relay 3: ###
Relay 4: ###
Relay 5: Atria, Goddess of Guidance and Direction
You have inherited a fragment of the divine concept of Guidance and Direction. In your eyes rests the power of Atria.
Relay 6: ###
Relay 7: ###
Relay 8: ###]
Elion stared blankly. The inscriptions now climbed all the way to his bicep.
This… the Forgotten King. Was he the one who created the Voice of God?
It made sense. In the recording, the man had spoken of trying to create something to guide humanity toward ascension. This place was tied to the Voice of God—and clearly, the Forgotten King had spent considerable time here.
Could he really have been the architect of such a cornerstone of society?
It was the only logical answer.
And Elion had just uncovered his legacy.
How do I use it?
The line about Atria's power resting in his eyes intrigued him. If he could truly tap into a god's power, it could change his group's precarious situation—hopefully for the better.
Still, caution outweighed greed. Nothing in this world was free, not even divine powers.
I should ask the others how affinities work.
He had no idea how to use one, so his best option was to consult people who already possessed them. Fortunately, there were two in his group: Farha, with the affinity to War and Conquest, and Lumos, with the affinity to Memories and Time.
Farha was a poor choice—last time he'd brought up the subject, it didn't end all too well. Lumos, however, was his most trusted ally, and far more knowledgeable.
Glancing around the chamber, Elion decided not to linger. The time he'd spent in that dream state, listening to the Forgotten King's recording, was unknown—it could have been seconds or hours.
He slipped through the door, closing it behind him. Hopefully he would never return here, but it was better to keep the place sealed just in case.
Elion eeled his way out of the claustrophobic cavern and rejoined the group. When he came into view, everyone stared at him.
"Where the hell have you been?" Eshrod blurted.
"Taking a piss," Elion replied dismissively.
"No, you weren't. Hela and Talom were keeping watch—you've been gone almost three hours."
"I… drank a lot of water." He didn't even try to make a believable excuse.
Eshrod just stared, then sighed.
"Alright… if you don't want to tell us, there's nothing I can do. But—" she jabbed a finger at him like a scolding parent, "next time you go wandering off, tell us. You don't know how worried you make Farha every time. I had to prevent her from going running after you in the darkness."
Elion glanced at the Mute Demon; she averted her gaze shyly.
Always so caring, huh…
Maybe he'd been too cold toward her. He still remembered the loop of their fateful conversation—how betrayed he had felt—but, in a way, she was right about it not being her. This current Farha didn't do any of this, though she might if he approached the subject again.
Elion shook his head.
Let's not think about it…
"Yes, Eshrod—Mom. I'll tell you next time," he said, like a child being lectured.
The Gremlin exhaled sharply.
"Shut up."
Elion grinned behind his mask and went to find Lumos.
The sorcerer was constantly studying and changing the runes covering his body—more than usual. Maybe it was his way of coping with his loss. Though he had grown better in the last few days.
"Hey, I have a question," Elion said.
Lumos looked up.
"Sure. Ask away."
"How do you use an affinity?"
The sorcerer's eyebrow rose.
"Why are you asking me that?"
"I… just want to know."
"Well, affinities are a taboo subject, especially among the great families. I'm not supposed to share details—unless you give me a good reason," Lumos explained.
That was new information to Elion. He was never really interested in politics, so he never dug into the subject. Maybe that was why Farha had such a strong reaction when he asked her about the affinity to War and Conquest.
He glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned closer.
"Can you keep what I'm about to tell you between us?"
"Sure…"
It took effort to say the words—but if he couldn't trust Lumos, he couldn't trust anyone.
Let's just hope I'm not making a mistake…
"I found an affinity."
Lumos frowned.
"You… found one?"
Elion nodded.
"That's not how affinities work," the sorcerer said. "What god is it tied to?"
Good—at least he believes me.
Saying it aloud felt absurd.
"That's the weird part. It says I have an affinity to the Forgotten King."
"The Forgotten King…" Lumos stroked his chin like a thinker on the verge of madness. "Never heard of him. Where did you get it?"
Elion gritted his teeth. He might as well tell him everything now.
"I found a structure when I left camp tonight. When I touched a strange device, I felt pain—for who knows how long. Then the Voice of God told me I'd gained an affinity."
"It was painful?" Lumos asked.
Elion nodded.
"When I acquired mine, it was the opposite—it felt euphoric."
Of course. When I get shiny new powers, it's agony. Everyone else gets them like a princess in a feather bed.
"I've never heard of such an affinity," Lumos said. "But if you're telling the truth, I guess I could teach you. It could prove incredibly useful."
He gestured for Elion to sit.
"Affinities work by drawing on the power of divinity and channeling it through the Voice of God," Lumos said, ink swirling at his fingertips before settling into a diagram on the rocky floor.
"The power either draws in divinity passively—always active—or it must be deliberately activated," the sorcerer continued.
"How do we activate it?" Elion asked.
"Just as runes work by communicating with the world, affinities work by communicating with divine concepts," Lumos explained. "It isn't fully understood how it works, but it's believed that the Voice of God allows consciousness to communicate with the divine."
"So… it's literally asking the gods?"
"No, not exactly. We're not speaking to the gods themselves—only to the concepts they embody."
"I… think I get it."
Lumos's smile faded slightly.
"But I have to warn you—using the divine always comes at a price."
That wasn't exactly surprising.
"Alright then, I'll try to use it," Elion said. "But if I die, please don't eat my corpse."
"Why would I do tha—" Lumos began, baffled by the sheer absurdity of the request.
But the young cook had already stopped listening, closing his eyes and focusing on reaching out to the divine.
The text about affinities flared, and the cold weight of something greater staring down at him settled onto his shoulders. Elion couldn't help but tremble. It was like when the Class V had laid its attention on him, but infinitely more powerful. This one, at least, wasn't malevolent by nature. That might have been the only reason he didn't just die from the will pressing on his shoulders.
So that's a divine will…
The fact that he could be erased with one simple thought of whatever was staring at him wasn't exactly reassuring…
He didn't hear a voice, but he felt its intentions. It clearly asked:
"Who are you?"