The last of the fireworks crackled out above the village, leaving drifting smoke glowing faintly in the evening sky. Lanterns hung along the road, their warm lights flickering across the tents and wooden stalls.
Dilek glanced at Kelid. She was smiling—soft, shy, her cheeks flushed pink in the lantern glow. He stared for a moment.
Then he smiled softly.
'Well… she is opening up… that's good…'
They walked through the growing crowd. Children ran past holding sweets. Musicians tuned their instruments near the main tent, where more and more people gathered.
Dilek looked ahead, Mask still on his face, at the large tent at the center of the festival grounds. "Oh, it's starting…"
Kelid blinked. "W-what is?"
Dilek smirked, hands in his pockets. "The beginning of the end…"
—
Across the festival center, Henry stood at the raised platform, sweat on his forehead. People were gathering—families, elders, merchants—filling the open square with chatter and excitement.
'That's it…' Henry watched them assemble.
Tonight he would speak the tales of Liora.
He saw the crowds thickening and smiled with fragile hope. 'People still believe in God Liora…' He clasped his hands together, breathing shakily. 'Archbishop will be pleased… So many people… I am so lucky… Now then… all I have to do is apologise… and call Dilek up here. There I'll begin the plan…'
He discreetly looked toward a dark corner near a stall.
The man he had bribed, the desperate one, stood there gripping the dagger under his clothes, trembling, breathing in sharp, steady intervals.
'H-he seems… ready… right?'
'The second I call Dilek over here, I'll tell them.'
The square was now packed. Even those who had begun believing in Dilek came, though they remained at the far edges, watching Henry from a distance.
Henry raised his hands for silence.
"Thank you, everyone… for coming here. Today we celebrate the greatness of the Warduica Empire… But we must also not forget to pay respects to our God Liora, who helped us make this empire great."
He exhaled in relief, realizing—
'Ah… this is so much easier… I am not stuttering…'
Henry rarely stuttered when confident. But it was easy to crush that confidence.
He continued, voice steady, "Let me start it, the tale of God. Now… this particular one isn't known whether it was our God Liora or which one. It's just written in the oldest scripture. It didn't mention our God Liora like the scriptures always do."
A little boy raised his hand. "Bishop, why is that?"
Bishop Henry smiled gently. "I'm not sure. But maybe it's because it's God Liora when he didn't have a name. Maybe at that time, he was just… God."
A man in the crowd scoffed. "Or maybe it's just some other God? Does it have to be Liora?"
Henry's breath hitched—his throat suddenly dry—but another villager snapped back, "Shut up, boy! At least let us hear the tale! Nag later!" The man turned to Henry respectfully. "Bishop, please continue."
Henry swallowed and nodded, stepping forward.
The murmuring died down, and lantern flickered across the crowd's expectant faces.
"Long ago," Henry began, "there was God. He walked among the Humans, Elves, Dwarfs, and Demons."
The crowd stilled—children sitting cross-legged on the ground, couples leaning closer to listen.
"He is said to have lived with a demon...and an older brother. A brother who decided to give up his life to the demon. So the God remained unharmed. The Demon took the life of His brother."
He let the silence sit before continuing.
"God, enraged, returned the favour to the demon by taking the demon's life.
But the God became silent after that. He never spoke again. He only walked among the people, only helping people in need. The God had decided to give up on violence. But his past haunted him…"
Henry's voice softened,
"The God cried rivers every day. Soon, his tears turned the seas salty.
The people cried out to him, told him to stop—or they wouldn't have any drinking water left."
"The damage was done… but God stopped. And people forgave him.
Then God helped people up. He couldn't fix the salty sea… but he helped them grow. He took one of his eyes to give us the sun.
He wanted the people to grow into people better than him. People who don't need to lose their family."
"But the pain still remained."
"To escape it, he cast a spell. A spell to seal his memories—memories of the death of his brother.
What haunted him wasn't anger. It wasn't killing someone. It was love. Love that reminded him of his own brother."
Some villagers gasped quietly; others nodded solemnly.
Henry's voice carried across the square.
"But, despite the sun despite the ground he gave us despite the water despite the world he gave us, Evil still appeared."
"The demons were driven to the edge of the world by one person."
Henry took a deep breath before smiling.
"That was God—who then decided to stand at the edge of this world. To keep it safe from demons invading this world again.
It is said he still stands there… and he is fighting."
He raised a hand to the starry sky.
"Every time you hear thunderstorms or when it rains—it's God reminding you that he is fighting. And you should too…"
Henry ended the tale with a smile.
The crowd erupted in applause, cheering, clapping, children laughing as the story washed over them like warm wind.
A lady near the front asked warmly, "So God Liora sure was gentle, right?"
Henry bowed slightly. "Of course. Our God Liora is fighting at the edge of the world, most likely."
The applause continued—the wind blew softly.
The plaza grew silent as Henry as he asked, Any questions? Just as he said that a hand rose from the middle of the gathering.
Henry cleared his throat. "Yes, please?"
A man stepped forward. "Does that mean God is fighting a battle he cannot win?"
Henry froze, surprised by the directness of the question. "W-what do you mean he can't win?"
The man hesitated, then pushed on, "If he is God, why is he fighting for so long? Who is stronger than God?"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Faces turned toward Henry expectantly. He felt their eyes press onto him like a weight.
He swallowed. His thoughts stumbled over each other.
'What? How would I know? The scripture didn't say anything else… What do I do? I–I don't know? Sh-should I s-say that?'
His chest tightened. He began breathing heavily, vision beginning to blur around the edges.
Then a calm voice rose through the tension. "You are wrong. You misunderstand."
Henry snapped his head up. Dilek stepped forward from the back of the crowd, his appearance causing immediate gasps. A chorus of voices broke out:
"Saint Dilek!"
"He would know it!"
"He is the direct messenger!"
Dilek stood there quietly, a soft breeze rustling his cloak as the eyes of the entire square shifted to him.
Henry felt a spark of hope.
'P-perfect… I-i just n-need to lu-lure him right?'
"S-Saint Dilek!" Henry forced a smile. "P-please c-come h-here to explain… I am sure everyone is curious." He trembled visibly.
Dilek returned a warm smile but shook his head. "Thank you, Bishop Henry. But like I said, I am but a man. A man who is equal under the goddess' eyes. So let me speak from here — from a place where I stand equally among people."
A gentle surprise washed through the crowd. A few who had already admired him clapped softly at his humility.
The breeze carried a faint scent of incense from the temple nearby as Dilek spoke again.
"God is all-powerful. But the reason He fights is because of us…"
"God? Saint, do you mean Goddess Yaguya?" someone asked.
Dilek turned to the man with a smile that briefly lifted the man's spirits — before he continued.
"Thank you. But the truth, my friend, is that there are multiple Gods. There are all of them — Liora, Trithron, Seran, Cael, Aegis, and Insupa. All of them are real. So is Yaguya…"
People murmured in shock. And some agreed as they nodded hearing his words.
"Me being a messenger of our goddess, I know the answer to that. The God is fighting a harsh battle because of us."
The crowd leaned in, tension shifting into curiosity.
"Saint, can you explain to us how?" someone asked.
Dilek smiled "Of course."
"Truth is, God is us. And what He is fighting is also us. Not us exactly — but He is powered by us. By our good beliefs, by our good habits, by the fact that we do good in a harsh world."
He paused, letting the words settle over them like dust.
"But so is the thing He is fighting. He feeds on our evil deeds. All the rotten things we do — like killing good people, not helping the ones in need…"
He glanced toward Henry.
"And… asking for payment… for something God gave us to spread among others."
A jolt ran through the listeners. Henry felt his stomach twist. He could feel eyes on him, the newer followers of Dilek glaring at Henry.
His breath hitched.
'He's calling me out… and he's right… but I can't side with him… I asked for payment… he didn't…'
Dilek continued, his voice steady and gentle.
"Evil versus good, did we really forget the basics of that? How come we treat others lower than us, when we are very much equal to them? Weren't we born on the same soil?"
The wind stirred around their feet as he finished,
"That's what my goddess told me, that no matter what, I cannot ask for payment to help people. That I must help her win against evil."
The crowd burst into murmurs, the air sharp with shock and rising emotion. Torches flickered along the plaza walls, casting long shadows as a man suddenly shouted:
"THAT'S RIGHT EVERYONE! SAINT DILEK HERE DOESN'T ASK FOR PAYMENT FOR HEALING! HE HEALED MY HAND IN THE MORNING!"
The old man, once the loudest critic, lifted his hand proudly. The wrapped bandages were gone. His palm, once shriveled and burnt, was now whole. He beamed at Dilek, who returned the gesture with a soft nod.
Gasps spread like wildfire. Everyone had seen that old man for years—walking to the church, giving away most of his earnings for a healing that never came. Two long years of offerings, prayers, and hope… healed in one morning.
"THAT'S RIGHT!" another elderly woman continued, his voice breaking. "THE YOUNG MAN HERE SUFFERED SO MUCH YET HE HELPS PEOPLE BECAUSE OF HIS GODDESS! HE IS A MAN WHO ONLY WORKS TO HELP OTHERS!"
The elderly shouted at the top of his lungs. Even the younger, most dedicated believers shifted uneasily. Their faces—once shining with devotion—now flickered with doubt as they turned toward Henry, waiting for him to speak.
Henry felt their eyes like stones pressing into his skin.
Then—
"SCREW IT! YOU FAKER! I'LL KILL YOUUU!"
A man with a wild face broke through the crowd, a knife raised high as he dashed straight toward Dilek.
Henry's breath caught. For one terrifying heartbeat he felt… relief.
Then horror. As his thoughts finally became clear.
'D-did I really j-just cause him to kill someone?'
'N-No… WAIT!'
"WAIT!" Henry screamed.
Something in him cracked open—fear, hesitation, all of it vanished as a memory surged forward. A memory of warm sunlight, his friends' gentle voices.
"Henry, you are a really good person…"
"I'm sure you won't do anything bad."
"Henry… don't be a bad person."
His entire life he had been told that. By friends. By family. Until the day he discovered he could heal. Until it brought joy to his village.
Until Liora's church took him.
He remembered it vividly.
—
WHAP—
A small switch cracked across his hands. Red lines formed instantly, burning, bleeding.
"Henry, God gave you this power only to save people who worship Him! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?" Bishop Kaelis grabbed Henry by the hair.
"B-but t-that per-person d-didn't look e-educated…" Henry sobbed.
"Then ask him to pay!"
"Why didn't you ask that?" The bishop's glare burned more than the lashes.
The next day—
WHAP—WHAP—WHAP—
"DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND, HENRY?! NO PAYMENT, NO BLESSING! IF GOD SAW YOU, HE WOULD SMITE YOU DOWN!"
Henry bit back screams.
"H-he was c-crying in p-pain…" he whispered.
"AND SO ARE YOU! AM I HEALING YOU?!" the bishop roared,
As his anger subsided he then pulled Henry into a tight embrace. "Look, Henry… all I want is for you to learn. You'll be a bishop someday. This hurts me more than it hurts you…"
Henry had cried helplessly. From that day forward, he obeyed every word Kaelis ever said.
Kaelis rose to Archbishop. Henry was sent far away, appointed bishop of Porustu. And Henry accepted. Because it was "God's will."
But now—
'When did I become so low?'
'Is this what God Liora wants?'
—
"STOP IT!!!" Henry screamed.
But it was too late.
STAB—
The knife plunged into Dilek's abdomen. People gasped, backing away in horror. Dilek staggered, blood staining his robe. His friends in the distance froze, faces twisted with fear.
"Die die die die—!" the man hissed through clenched teeth as he pushed the blade deeper.
People rushed forward, ready to tackle him.
—but Dilek wrapped his arms around the man instead.
He hugged him.
The attacker froze mid-motion. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING—?!"
Dilek coughed blood, his voice gentle despite the pain. "It's going to be alright… You aren't in trouble… No one will harm you… I'm sorry… I probably did something bad… But you… you aren't at fault."
The people gasped as they were shocked that the saint would forgive a man trying to kill him and blame himself.
The man trembled. The warmth of the hug broke him. 'Why was someone he tried to kill trying to help him? Keep him safe?' Tears spilled as he bawled.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I-I didn't want to—!" His voice cracked. "I was so hungry… I don't have money… My family left me…"
Dilek smiled through the blood. "I am here… Don't worry… I won't leave you…"
He coughed again, a splash of red hitting the ground.
"Saint—yo-you are bleeding! SOMEONE HELPPP!" the man who once tried killing dilek, cried desperately.
People finally snapped out of shock and ran toward Dilek, frantic hands trying to stop the bleeding.
Henry let out a shaky breath as the crowd reached him Dilek.
—but then a voice whispered behind him.
"It's not over yet, Henry."
Henry turned—and froze.
Dilek was standing beside him.
Alive. Unwounded.
But over there… the crowd surrounded another Dilek.
'How…?'
Dilek smiled softly, placing a hand on Henry's shoulder. "Its a Illusion," he smiled as he continued "No one else can see me other than you."
A chill ran down Henry's back.
"Now, Bishop Henry," Dilek said, "this concludes the end of the Monday War. In exactly 10 seconds you will be ruined. And Tuesday will begin."
Dilek, The one standing beside Henry started counting down while staring at his wounded self.
10…
The crowd pinned the attacker down, fists rising.
"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!"
9…
"Stop…" the wounded Dilek whispered weakly. "Stop…"
8…
"I'm sure… he was under pressure… don't hurt him… if you respect me…"
7…
Everyone backed away. The man sobbed openly.
6…
"It's okay…" the wounded Dilek said softly. "Come closer."
5…
The man shakily stood and moved toward him.
4…
"Why would you do it? I'm not scolding you… I'm asking you. I want to help you…"
3…
Henry's breath trembled as he turned to dilek beside him. 'S-stop it p-please…'
2…
"I was ordered…" the wounded Dilek whispered. "Ordered to kill you…"
"By, Who?" Dilek asked gently.
1…
The man pointed directly at Henry.
"Bishop Henry."
0…
"It's Tuesday now," the Dilek beside Henry whispered, smiling.
No one else saw Dilek beside him.
But everyone saw Henry.
Dozens of eyes burned with betrayal.
Henry collapsed to his knees. "N-no… I-I didn't…"
"FILTHY!"
"MURDERER!"
"DISGUSTING!"
"MONEY-HUNGRY!"
The curses flew like stones. Spit, insults, hatred—all of Porustu turning on him in seconds.
And, on a Monday,
in a single day,
the faith in Liora collapsed.