NOVEL NEXT B2 Chapter 14 (Feats)
A Glorious Achievement!
By the sacred grace of Holy Theosis, the coming and the arrival, your resurgence defies the grave's embrace, claiming this golden laurel, wrested from the jaws of martyrdom, now bestowed upon your vivified soul.
At the second Tier of ascension, fortified by unyielding devotion to the Holy Trinity, you stood resolute against the abhorrent taint of a wretched traitor, a Trium Crucesignatus Lapsus, a thrice-damned Nofelim whose perfidious blasphemy and profane essence defile the sanctity of the Divine.
Your faith, a bulwark as unbending as galvornium steel, repelled the insidious darkness of this Fallen, a corruption potent enough to sway even the most stalwart souls of the Empire's faithful, twisting them toward the vile embrace of Hell.
Yet you, Crusader, stood indominable, remaining free of Hell's taint, earning this triumph, a blazing beacon of righteousness amid the gloom.
Glory Points bestowed: 15
For God and Empire!
With that, Angar's Glory Points went from 8 to 23. That was a larger reward than usual.
Caught up with his logs, he headed out.
That he had been claimed by death's embrace, and was now alive again, was strange to think about.
Doc had examined him, pronouncing no permanent flaw upon his brain, not that his regeneration wouldn't mend. But vivification always took a toll somehow. And not just that, but it marked a soul, making future attempts less likely to work.
After speaking with Doc and Kong, Angar had some suspicions he wanted to address with Hidetada, but the man was supposedly unavailable, constantly so.
His thoughts drifted to Gux, Majed, and Brother Salinja. He didn't know them well, and he missed them being honored with funerary service and commemoration. They were longtime members of the crew, like brothers to all.
They died, and so did he, but here he was.
He'd never been clear on how kids discovered they had psychic potential. It wasn't difficult. A new Feat appeared in his Annals, clear in intent and hard to miss.
FEATS
ALACRITY OF ANGULIMALA: Your exceptional agility and swiftness grant you an almost preternatural awareness of impending danger, enhancing Adroitness by 1 point.
BLESSING OF AL-KHIDR: Your intuition blurs the line between the apparent and the hidden, allowing you to discern deeper esoteric truths beyond what is immediately visible, guided by your faithful gut instincts.
PSYCHIC POTENTIAL: You have psychic potential.
RAVANA'S BOON: Your ability to slowly regenerate applies to all injuries that do not immediately kill you. This minor regeneration effect cumulatively enhances (stacks with) most other sources of regeneration.
RIGHTEOUS REBUKER: Your resistance to temptation, reflecting Jesus' obedience to God's will, fortifies against the corrupting whispers, temptations, and influences from creatures of Hell, effectively elevating your Tier by 1 for the exclusive purpose of resisting these influences.
His armor had been repaired with the only spare breastplate and dwindling reserves of materials on hand.
The cost of the restoration was taken from the spoils gained from the Void Reapers and the cultist, their corpses and the station yielding a trove. The haul was vast, and the repairs claimed only about a tenth of its worth.
Kong told him there were some weapon mods and items he'd be interested in too, including a neck piece and a possible replacement for his Electrum Tutela ring. He doubted the ring replacement was worthy. If he had the item points, he'd be rebuying the Olcinator ring. The benefit it'd provide while fighting many enemies was too powerful not to have.
The Zephuros was docked at Albion's primary spaceport, located between the two largest cities on the planet, which had long ago grown to touch each other, Eboracum, and the world's capital, Camulodunum.
Angar descended the ship's ramp, Simo in tow, when Deli's voice cut through his helm. "I've pinned the location of the commandeered warehouse we're keeping the prisoners in. Just follow the objective tracker."
Angar had previously turned that and most other functions off, so activated it with a thought. The warehouse wasn't all that far, located well within the spaceport's boundaries.
He entered to find Harc, unarmored, dressed in rough serf-like clothes, slouched in a chair, boots propped on a battered desk, hands laced behind his head, his face slack with boredom. On the desk sat a round broadbrim, a peasant hat commonly worn when working the fields and such.
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Jon, Simo's son, and Anarat sat nearby, still and silent.
A clergyman stood near them, a colossus compared to others of the Ecclesiastic Angar had previously seen, and wider of shoulder, no headgear, his strange and ornate armor draped over far stranger robes woven with esoteric sigils.
A Psy Crystal sat on a forearm bracer, uncovered in the way Gray's embedded their own. His bald skull gleamed under the dim warehouse's lights, showing a face of scars and zeal.
'Deus, Primus, Semper' was tattooed across his brow – God, first, always. 'Mens' on his right cheek, 'Rea' on his left – guilty mind. 'Peccator' on his chin – sinful man, or sinner.
Beside him stood a lean woman, her gray official garb and peaked cap marking her as an imperial functionary, her eyes glinting with the casual evil of a bureaucrat.
In the far-left corner, about a hundred women and children cowered, uncaged but chained by fear, most marred by visible Hellsign, with black veins snaking through flesh, scales or tumorous growths here and there, blotching their skin like a curse.
Across from them, in the other far corner, officials and clergy huddled, their faces pale with dread, their clothes and robes stained with the sweat of impending judgment.
Nearer to Harc, a cramped cage surrounded by runes on the ground held others of their kind, but these bore no terror. Some were twisted into abominations, warped by fell power.
"Glad to see you back from the grave," said Harc without moving or even looking up. "Jon made a plan to maximize experience gain. Women and children first, then the bribe-takers, and Heretics twisted by maleficia last. Be quick about it, so we can get away from this trash planet as soon as possible."
Angar gave a curt nod, his eyes locking on the first group, a bitter sigh escaping his lips. His gauntlets tightened around his maul, its graviton conduits humming faintly, as he stalked through the warehouse's gloom.
His oath burned in his soul, an oath as unyielding as steel. 'I consecrate my existence to the relentless annihilation of Hell's foul spawn and the wicked Heretic.'
It left no room for mercy. These were Heretics, corrupted by Hell.
But each step grew heavier, the cries of children piercing the air like shrapnel. Mothers clutched their young, some pressing against the wall's cold iron, overcome with fear, others standing defiant, their heads held high, committing to die with pride intact.
A toddler's gaze met his own, its face veined with black, the odd blotches of scales marring its skin here and there.
Angar halted, his stare sweeping the group, a foreboding feeling gnawing at his gut.
Most likely, Azgoth had imprisoned these here as intended sacrifices.
Before that, these women were probably captured in Void Reaper raids, having no say in their corruption, forced to be around those reveling in unholiness and the profane, defiled by long exposure, as innocent as their children.
The salvageable had been culled. These left were the forsaken, deemed beyond redemption.
Some of the children had no mother here with them, but no child stood alone. Each orphan had been claimed by a woman's care.
That didn't seem like the act of those lost to Hell's grip.
And not one of them had any strength. He doubted he'd receive much, if any, XP for slaughtering them.
At that moment, he realized his strength meant nothing if it wasn't to protect the Lord's most vulnerable children.
What was the point of fighting against Hell if it wasn't to protect and save those like the ones in front of him?
He thought Spirit's bleeding-heart gospels were wrongheaded and foolish. That was clear as day. But two verses from hers fit the moment well, their words more sensible than ever.
'For in the boundless heart of the Lord, none are held higher than the meek and innocent. Woe unto those who would bring harm upon them, for the Almighty's wrath falls swift upon such wickedness, and their malice shall meet His righteous judgment.'
And the second – 'In the gentle laughter of children, in the Holy glow of the bearers of life, heirs of purity, are the jewels of His creation; to them belongs the Kingdom of Heaven, where no sorrow may trespass, where their souls dance in everlasting light, and the eons of His Divine will endure forever.'
On his world, warriors protected women and children. They didn't kill them for events outside of their control.
Sure, Mecians took the women of slaughtered enemies, but they weren't made slaves and defiled, like the Void Reapers did to these here. They were made safe, stronger, taught the right beliefs, as were their children. His mother was an example, taken as a child.
Angar could slay men all day without feeling anything, not one pang of guilt or remorse, just as he was raised to do, but this was different.
If what he was about to do wasn't wrong, there wouldn't be a sense of foreboding gnawing away at his gut.
He had sworn an oath, one of black and white, uncompromising, clear. He was no oath-breaker, and he hated how loosely everyone interpreted oaths sworn, but there had to be exceptions. Spirit herself told him so.
He couldn't do this. He wouldn't. There had to be another way, at least for mothers and the young. His vow also bound him to shield all worthy Children of God with his faith, his fury, his life.
In his eyes, none were worthier of protection and aid than those in front of him. If these lives held no value to the Holy Empire, Hell had already won the war.
Angar's gaze scanned the fearful group, their trembling forms. No scars of purification marred their flesh. There were no raw wounds where corruption had been seared away.
"Why haven't the women and children been exorcised?" he asked in the operator's channel, his voice overflowing with barely restrained fury.
After seconds passed, Deli's reply crackled through his helm, cold and clipped. "Even if Brother Salinja had survived, that would've demanded a fortune in resources and credits. Those not lost were separated, the children sent to Cloisteranages. Per Hunter, proceed with the purge."
Angar's gauntlets tightened around his maul. If the Saint was listening in, whispering commands through Deli, why hadn't he spoken to Angar earlier?
"We have a clergyman here," Angar shot back. "He looks high-ranking. He can perform the rites."
Deli's voice returned, edged with impatience. "It'd take one clergy too long, Goshawk. Hunter wants the Zephuros back in the void by local dusk."
Fury erupted in Angar's chest like a molten tide. "Call me Goshawk again, and I'll crush your skull," he stated. "My callsign's Angar."
After a pause, Deli warily said, "Copy, Sir Angar. No insult meant. It's the callsign Saint Hidetada marked you down as."
Angar drew a steadying breath, forcing the rage to ebb, his gaze locked on a mother clutching her infant. "We're flanked by this world's two biggest cities," he said. "There's plenty of clergy capable of performing exorcisms close by."
There was another pause, then Deli said, "Negative, Sir Angar. The captain says proceed with the purge."
Rage flared anew, hotter and fiercer. He stood motionless, the maul heavy in his grip, its hum a dull echo of the anvil pounding in his chest. He had to wait a moment to regain control and not yell. "Contact some churches, monasteries, and sects now. Tell them to rush here with whatever resources they need. I'll pay for it."
He'd rather not lose his newfound wealth and possible upgrades like the neck piece and ring, but he'd rather be bankrupt of wealth than soul.
Harc called out, "What's the holdup? We're on the clock. Let's go. Get to purging the Heretics."
Angar ignored him, waiting for Deli's response. The operator's voice returned, flat and final. "Negative, Sir Angar. This is a direct order from Saint Hidetada. Failure to follow this order will be seen as mutiny. Commence with the purge."