Michael Carter stepped out of the church doors with slow, uneven steps.
From a distance, he looked like a man who had drunk himself into oblivion someone who had lost all sense of direction. He pressed his trembling hand against his face and leaned heavily against a tree in the church courtyard, his body shaking as sobs tore out of him.
His son was only two years old.
And he had handed him over to the church with his own hands which meant death.
The memory wouldn't leave him alone.
Paladins storming the room.
Ryan being struck unconscious.
His own voice breaking as he screamed,
"Please… don't take him!"
After sitting there in a daze for what felt like hours, Michael finally forced himself to stand.
"Why me…?" he whispered, before drifting deeper into the city.
The streets were eerily empty.
At the city gate, a guard saluted him but Michael neither saw nor heard the man. A storm raged inside his chest.
Should I rise against the church?
Even if I succeed… what if they were right?
What if there truly was a demon inside Ryan?
And if there was…
Would that mean the end of both him and Olivia?
He was just a father trying to protect his family.
Yet now, he carried the unbearable weight of having abandoned his own child.
Deep in the forest, Michael collapsed against a tree.
"God… why us?" he whispered.
He wiped his eyes and forced himself to move forward, but the tears refused to stop.
A Short While Later…
Michael had no sense of distance or time anymore.
He was broken completely.
What terrified him most wasn't the church.
It was Olivia.
How would she react?
Standing before the front door, he hesitated. Then he knocked three times.
The door opened instantly.
Olivia stood there, as if she had been waiting the entire time.
The moment she saw Michael's shattered expression, the hope in her eyes died.
"Olivia, I-" he began.
She shook her head silently.
She already knew.
Inside the house, Michael collapsed into an old armchair, burying his face in his hands. He couldn't bring himself to look at her.
When he finally did, he saw tears sliding silently down her cheeks.
He stood and pulled her into his arms.
For several minutes, they said nothing only the sound of shared sobbing filled the room.
In a voice barely above a whisper, Olivia asked:
"Will we… ever see our baby again?"
Michael couldn't answer.
He only pressed a trembling kiss to her forehead.
Olivia fell to her knees.
"He's only two!" she cried.
"He won't know what to do… He'll be so
scared in that dark room!"
Priest Chris gazed at the blue-haired child before him with twisted delight.
"What a magnificent sacrifice," he said, smiling.
"The Ancient God will be most pleased. Your Holy Power is immense."
Ryan trembled.
"The… Ancient God?"
With manic enthusiasm, Chris flicked the child's forehead.
"Correct!" he laughed.
"And now you are his meal."
He turned and left, laughter echoing as the heavy iron doors slammed shut.
This was the first time Ryan had ever heard the term Holy Power.
He knew about Mana. He had read about it. Studied it.
But Holy Power?
None of the books at home mentioned it.
The church is hiding it, Ryan realized.
And they're killing children who possess it…
He searched desperately for a way out.
The ventilation shafts were far too narrow.
The iron bars were immovable.
There was no escape.
Ryan curled into the corner of the cell and waited.
Priest Martin had seen it.
As he passed the scanning chamber, a crimson glow flooded the room. The sheer amount of Holy Power radiating from a two year old child left him frozen in awe.
He watched as Paladins used Mana to knock the boy unconscious.
He heard the father scream.
"I beg you! Please don't take him!"
Martin's chest burned.
How many children has it been now…?
He despised sacrificing innocents to that vile entity the so called Ancient God.
His hands had always been tied.
But today was different.
A voice roared inside him.
I have to save them.
Ignoring the consequences, Martin made his way toward the prison.
He waited until Priest Chris was gone.
In a single decisive motion, Martin neutralized the guarding Paladins with Mana. He tore open the cell doors one by one.
Then, clenching his fists, he unleashed a technique he had perfected in secret.
Holy Punch.
The wall exploded.
Stone and metal flew as a massive escape route opened before the prisoners.
As terrified children poured out of their cells and fled into freedom, Martin felt something unfamiliar in his heart.
Relief.
Then footsteps echoed.
Priest Chris returned Paladins at his side.
He stared at the empty cells, his face twisting with rage.
"What is the meaning of this, Martin?!"
Martin smiled calmly.
"I'm changing the flow of a few lives."
Chris clenched his fists so tightly that blood trickled from his palms.
Martin laughed.
"Perhaps the era of this rotten church is finally ending," he said mockingly.
"Don't you think so, Chris?"
Fury erupted.
Chris formed sharp arrows of magic and hurled them forward.
Martin dodged them effortlessly.
"Is that all?" he taunted.