Martial Demons Ascension

The silence of the emptied church was broken when Emmet finally moved

He walked past the rows of benches past the cold marble altar his boots echoing against the stone floor At the side of the sanctuary half hidden behind a tapestry of the Goddess draped in golden light he stopped

Rhyka frowned as Emmet pulled the cloth aside revealing a narrow iron door set into the wall Its handle was worn with age the hinges blackened

"…And what's this supposed to be" Rhyka asked voice sharp with irritation

Emmet didn't answer immediately He glanced once at the boy then pushed the door open The hinges groaned and a gust of stale cold air wafted out carrying with it the faint smell of earth and rot

"Come" Emmet said simply stepping inside

Rhyka hesitated at the threshold Every fiber of him wanted to turn and leave but curiosity twisted in his gut needling him forward He followed ducking slightly as the ceiling dropped the door clanging shut behind them

The passage sloped downward stone steps slick with age Torches burned low in iron sconces their flames weak but steady casting long jagged shadows across the walls The air grew colder with every step

After several minutes the stairs flattened into a long hallway massive stretching into the dark

And lining both sides were graves

But not ordinary graves

Stone sarcophagi carved crudely jagged and harsh their lids inscribed not with prayers or blessings but with words of venom The etchings cursed the dead within condemning them as traitors heretics sinners against the Goddess Some bore twisted faces carved in mocking detail others crude symbols of chains and fire Many were cracked or broken as if defaced intentionally

The weight of malice clung to the air heavier than incense heavier than silence

Rhyka slowed his sharp eyes flicking from grave to grave His lips curled faintly beneath his mask "Well" he said softly "this is charming"

Emmet stopped at the center of the hall and turned His voice was quiet but it carried in the cavernous space

"Every church of the Goddess once it grows past a certain size has one of these Not all villagers know Not even all priests But they exist Always"

He gestured at the cursed graves around them

"This is where the enemies of the Church are buried Not honored Not remembered Condemned Their bodies interred with curses etched into their graves so that their very souls are denied peace Some of them were sorcerers who turned their arts against the faith Some were soldiers Some were simply… inconvenient"

His jaw tightened

"They are not buried as people They are buried as warnings"

Rhyka stared at the defiled sarcophagi the venomous inscriptions the deliberate mockery His hand flexed near the hilt of his blade

A slow dark chuckle slipped from his lips "So this is the mercy of the Goddess Her so called justice"

Emmet's eyes narrowed "It is… the Church's justice Not always hers Remember that distinction"

But Rhyka shook his head stepping closer to one of the graves He traced the jagged words carved into the stone Heretic Unworthy Condemned for eternity

I don't really care about her justice or anything like that it's not her values I take issue with it's more a personal grudge a

Emmet snorted

Rhyka's smirk twisted into something sharper His voice dropped low venom lacing each word

"if anything This only makes me want to kill her more"

Emmet's voice echoed softly in the long hallway lined with cursed graves

"Do you know" he asked "what happened to the heretics who harassed you last year The ones who followed you from the outskirts shouting throwing stones calling you cursed"

Rhyka's jaw clenched under his mask He remembered

How could he not

The memory returned with brutal clarity

The voices outside had risen and fallen in rhythm not angry or panicked but focused Devout Euphoric

"Rhyka"

"RHYKA"

His name

Chanted exalted as if it were sacred As if it meant something more than just a boy's name

He had moved slowly to the window that night He hadn't crouched hadn't hidden like a child afraid of being seen He had stood in full view arms loose at his sides eyes staring out with calm detachment The classmates who'd peeked from behind him had whispered in fear thinking it was madness or something worse But it was the closest they had ever seen Rhyka come to showing emotion standing there letting the heretics scream his name as if invoking a god

Outside the courtyard had been filled with strangers

Not locals That had been obvious instantly

Their clothing was jagged and layered stitched with spiraling symbols that made the eye ache to follow Their sandals crunched strangely against the stone Their staffs were carved with beast teeth and inlaid with curling strips of bone charms dangling like grotesque ornaments Their accents even in broken Common grated like oil in water

Vaelmorans

No mistaking it

They came from Vaelmora the smallest of the three continents A land of broken reefs savage storms and wild beliefs A land the Church called godless A land of heretics Apostates Heathens who bowed not to the Goddess of Sorcery nor to any of the Orthodox pantheon but to the sky the fire the beasts the stone

And yet here they had stood dozens of them gathered in a foreign courtyard chanting his name like it was a hymn

The memory shattered when Emmet's voice dragged him back to the present

"Come"

They walked deeper down the cursed hall until the air grew colder The torchlight flickered off stone and suddenly the walls widened into a chamber

Rhyka stopped cold

Hanging from black iron hooks that jutted from the ceiling were bodies

Dozens

The same Vaelmorans

Their flesh had blackened their limbs withered But they hadn't rotted like corpses left to the wild Their decay was slow unnatural drawn out Their eyes had collapsed inward but maggots still writhed in the sockets crawling in and out endlessly Flies buzzed faintly in the chamber circling the half open mouths that still twitched as if trying to form words

The stench was suffocating

Rhyka's hand drifted to his blade but not out of fear His expression didn't shift His eyes narrowed taking in the gruesome sight with the same detached calm as the night they had chanted his name

"What" he began

"They are still alive" Emmet said flatly voice echoing in the chamber

Rhyka turned slowly "…Alive"

"Their decay has been slowed by enchantments Their nerves preserved Their bodies are rotting but their minds still feel it Every insect every bite every moment of suffocation"

He gestured up toward a Vaelmoran whose jaw hung slack skin paper thin against bone The man's chest hitched faintly a twitch that could only be noticed if you looked long enough

"They have been rotting for a year" Emmet continued "And they will rot for many more Until the priests decide their penance is paid For crimes of their level this is warranted"

His words carried weight but his expression betrayed a flicker of discomfort He was repeating doctrine Explaining Justifying

Rhyka didn't move Didn't look away His face was unreadable but his eyes burned with something Emmet couldn't quite place something between disgust fascination and numb resignation

This the goddesses will

Emmet's jaw tightened "It is the Church's punishment Don't confuse the two"

But Rhyka only chuckled softly Not mocking not amused something darker

It didn't horrify him It didn't frighten him

If anything it only made his hatred feel justified