Divine System: Land of the Abominations

The first thing Nero realized was that the Potion was sweet.

Extremely sweet.

The taste flooded his mouth, thick and cloying, coating his tongue and the back of his throat in a syrupy film that seemed to cling to everything it touched. It was overwhelming, the sweetness so intense it bordered on bitterness, as though it had crossed some invisible threshold and become something else entirely. He grimaced, forcing himself to swallow the last of the liquid, and then lowered the vial with trembling hands.

He shook his head sharply, trying to clear the taste from his mind, but it lingered still, persistent and abrasively harsh.

Then a heat descended upon him, starting in his chest as a sudden warmth that bloomed outward like fire spilling through his veins. Nero's breath caught, his hand instinctively pressing against his sternum.

The heat wasn't painful, not exactly, but it was intense, and it seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat, each beat sending another wave of warmth radiating through his body.

Bishop leaned forward, his eyes alight with excitement, watching Nero with the focused attention of a craftsman observing his work.

"Good," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "That means it's working. You don't need to worry about it for now. The Potion of Change takes quite some time before you begin to feel its effects. What you're experiencing now is just the initial activation."

Nero cleared his throat as the heat slowly subsided, fading to a faint warmth that lingered beneath his skin like embers waiting to reignite. He exhaled slowly, relief washing over him as his heartbeat gradually returned to normal.

Bishop took a seat, settling back into his chair with a satisfied smile.

"You seem really interested in these kinds of things," he observed, studying Nero with renewed curiosity. "I believe you have what it takes to…"

He paused mid-sentence, his smile fading slightly as his expression grew more contemplative. He shook his head, as though dismissing some internal thought.

"It would be a shame to have you throw all this talent away and become another casualty thrown into an endless war. There is no need to give your life away, especially with so much potential. The path of the Templar is one of inevitable corruption and death. You could choose differently."

Nero shook his head stalwartly, his jaw setting with determination.

"I can't do it."

He smiled bitterly, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. "There is something in me. A Demon, if I can call it that, that makes me seek a path paved in bloodshed. It is out of my control."

Hearing those words, Bishop frowned, his brows drawing together in concern.

"There is no choice that is out of your control, Nero," he said firmly, leaning forward. "We always have choice, even when we convince ourselves otherwise. Plus, such a path will only lead to despair, pain, and suffering. I've seen it happen to too many times for it not to be true."

To that, Nero smiled and said, his voice quiet but certain, "Suffering and pain are a way of life. I'll get used to it."

Bishop was stumped for words. He sat there, staring at Nero, his expression shifting through several emotions—surprise, concern, something that might have been pity. His mind turned over what the young man had just said, trying to understand the experiences that could forge such a worldview.

'What had this child gone through to have such a terrible outlook on life? What kind of suffering had he already endured to speak of pain as though it were as natural and inevitable as breathing?'

He shook his head slowly but decided to drop it. There was no point in pressing further. Some wounds ran too deep to be addressed with words alone, and some convictions were too firmly rooted to be shaken by a stranger's concern, no matter how genuine.

After a moment of heavy silence, Bishop leaned back in his chair and shifted the conversation.

"Still, if you want, then I can teach you the basics of sorcery. I believe having some knowledge in it would be very much helpful, regardless of the path you choose to walk."

Nero's eyes flickered with interest, the earlier tension draining from his posture as his curiosity took over. He straightened slightly, his attention sharpening like a blade being drawn.

He cleared his throat. "What exactly is sorcery?"

Bishop smiled, clearly pleased by the question.

"There are different forms, and there are different approaches, schools, and even executions," he began, his voice taking on that lecturing quality again. "But for the most part, sorcery is any process that combines the use of the three different pathways to create the complete tree of flow, from the crown to the roots. It is the art of unifying Mind, Heart, and Body into a single focused intent that can then interact with and manipulate the world."

He paused, his expression growing more serious, almost grave.

"But if you ask me, then I believe sorcery is simply an application of will mixed in with a whole bunch of mysticism. It is a concept that cannot and should not be understood. Those who try to simply dig their own graves. The moment you think you fully understand it, is the moment it consumes you."

Bishop leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Nero's with an intensity that made the air feel like a loaded spring.

"Before I continue, I'd like for you to promise me that you will never bite off more than you can chew. Having a young kid like you fall to corruption because of me will be an unwashable stain on my soul and pride."

Nero nodded quickly, meeting Bishop's eyes with genuine sincerity. "I promise."

Bishop studied him for a long moment. Then he finally nodded.

"Good. I will choose to believe your words for now." he said, settling back slightly.

"Then we can move forward..."

He cleared his throat,

"Sorcery can be taught as well. I will show you an example…"