Crusader's Academy, Sanctum of Faith
Father Azrael made sure to submit the artefact we found, as well as his 'evidence', to verify his claims. From what I was told, it was rated as Severe [Rank 3] in the five-rank scaling of artefacts. This, of course, was just another thing that I didn't know.
My eyes scanned the lines of the brief that I held as I rested on the wooden chair by the window. It was evening, so the lighting was dim, causing me to squint a bit. I had to conserve energy, so turning on the lights during the day wasn't an option.
Matthew definitely wouldn't allow that. We already had way too many bills.
My roommate lay snugly on his bed, which was positioned next to mine. Light snores escaped his lips while he slept, and I would occasionally listen to the intensity and pitch of each snore, not having much to do.
Several travelling bags—completely filled, stood towards the end of the room, next to the door. They were six in number; three belonged to me and three to him. Both of us had passed the examinations, I was an Exorcist, and he was a Missionary.
The next day, we would be elevated to official Crusaders, so our dorm was going to change. To my pleasure, I would finally be getting a room of my own.
However, I wasn't focused on that. Neither was I even slightly happy at the moment.
Stress lines creased my forehead as I read through the brief. It was handed out to everyone who passed and was supposed to serve as a briefing for upcoming Crusaders. It spanned through several vital concepts that were taught in the Academy…..which I had absolutely forgotten.
First of all, there were a lot more Psalms than I thought. I barely knew the Psalms of War and the Psalms of Protection, but apparently, there were also Psalms of Purification, Deliverance, and Retribution.
We're expected to know all these?
Really?
As for the artefacts, they were ranked 1-5, spanning from Minor to Profane in order of the threat they posed. It read: Minor, Moderate, Severe, Critical, and Profane.
I was so sure that the book we seized was at least Critical, considering how two pages of reading had done so much damage. To my horror, that wasn't the case.
It ranked as Severe, taking the third rank. I found this really hard to believe, but Father Azrael had no cause to lie. In fact, he made it clear that there were even more dangerous artefacts out there.
All these were too much to take in all at once.
"Man…" I sighed, muttering to myself. "I'm stressed out."
At that moment, I heard a slight snort.
…..
I glanced at Matthew, who was resting in his pyjamas.
"I know you're awake."
…..
Matthew didn't move an inch. In fact, he seemed even stiller than earlier. However, I knew my ears couldn't have deceived me, and unless there was some amused ghost in the room, he was definitely the culprit.
In that silence, I stared right at him, also unwilling to avert my gaze as if it was a competition. The atmosphere quickly grew awkward as I stared for several seconds—minutes even, till he finally gave up.
He seemed to have reached his poker face limit as a knowing smile appeared on his face. He still struggled to hide his expression, but it was already too late.
"Hmph!"
Through his falling black hair, Matthew snuck open an eye. Unfortunately for him, that was simply the perfect opportunity for us to lock gazes, totally sealing off any routes of escape.
Knowing this, he dropped the act.
"Fine!" He protested. "You caught me."
"Of course I did." I remarked.
Matthew's voice was thin—almost feminine, but unyielding of the subtle masculine bass. His appearance did a great job at matching with his tone, as he also just happened to look like a lady.
Well, almost, but he had been mistaken many times.
He had a falling black hair that reached his neck, two pairs of azure eyes, and an oval face. The rest of his frame was slender, but it still possessed a well-sculpted definition.
Matthew pointed at the brief that I held. "You seemed to be struggling."
"Was it obvious?" I asked.
He snorted. "You sounded miserable. It was obvious."
"....."
Matthew grinned. "Are you cooked?"
I glanced at the brief, skimming through the several lines that once confused me. Unfortunately, no miracle happened, and I was only sent back to my despair.
I sighed. "Relatively."
Matthew chuckled, amused by my helplessness. He pushed the blankets off his body and sat by the edge of the bed.
"I have a little something for you."
I raised an eyebrow. "A gift?"
"Something like that."
He stood from the bed and walked towards the wardrobe. My eyes followed him as he went and were fixed on him as he ransacked the cupboard.
After a few seconds, Matthew let out a sigh of satisfaction and brought out a book.
A book…?
No…not another book!
As if he could hear my thoughts, he threw a displeased look at me.
But it isn't my fault though…I have PTSD for books.
Matthew didn't say a word, but his expression, his demeanour, and his countenance were judging every fibre of my being.
"You don't deserve this gift of mine." He blurted. "But I'll grant it to you anyway…"
"….."
Matthew returned to my position, sat on his bed and gave me the book.
It was a notebook. A brown notebook, with words scribbled on its cover.
It read: 'Matthew's Treat'.
"That should cover everything you need to know as an Exorcist." He explained, still giving me that judgemental look.
"Urm…did I do something wrong?"
He ignored me for a while before answering. "No. Not yet."
Not yet?
I guess I should be careful about my next actions.
Without hesitation, I opened the book. And several words met my eyes.
It was a handwritten table of contents. Looking towards the bottom of the page, I realised that Matthew had taken his time to number it.
My hands flipped through the pages, and voluminous information hit me like a wave. He had designed the book in a conversational style, breaking down and outlining several Psalms into bits—perhaps to aid learning.
But he wasn't an Exorcist. Didn't that mean that he specifically made this for me?
The book was quite wide, and it numbered exactly 100 pages. Matthew's font size wasn't exactly large, so writing one page could have taken hundreds of words.
"..Matthew.."
"What?"
I cleared my throat. "Is this why you slept in the library two days ago?"
Matthew recoiled slightly in surprise, and I heard a light gasp. Then suddenly, he exclaimed.
"I KNEW IT!" He roared.
Eh?
He stood up in a frenzy and pointed at me. "You don't want to read it, do you?"
"…."
Truthfully, I wasn't a fan of books. I even had a habit of reading the bible out of obligation until recently.
But if he had taken his time and effort to make this, I couldn't be ungrateful enough to neglect it.
"I do." I answered. "And I will."
Flashing a smile, I thanked him.
"..oh…"
Matthew slowly lowered his arm in astonishment. His 1 year of living with me was more than enough time for him to know how lazy a student I was. He probably didn't expect me to actually accept and promise to read it.
"Well, you better do." He commanded. "It wasn't easy making it."
"I will."
Then I remembered something.
"By the way, are you being transferred?"
Matthew nodded and sat back down. "Yeah. To the Sanctum of Mercy."
In Sanctuaries, there were Sanctums. In this Sanctuary, there were about 10 Sanctums and I had spent my whole 19 years of living in a single one; The Sanctum of Faith.
Each Sanctum had an Academy, which were all interconnected under one name; The Crusader's Academy.