As Elior moved away, everyone's eyes met on one person-the hooded man wrapped in bandages. No one knew who he was or where he came from.
Some whispered that he must be from a neighboring city. Others said he looked like some drunk wanderer.
But the priests had already made their conclusion:
He was an evil omen, a curse sent to pollute their land.
And so they wanted him sacrificed.
Even though he wasn't the thief who stole the temple's gold coins-
even though the real culprit was someone else entirely-
at this point, nobody cared.
They just wanted this stranger, whoever he was, out of Volradis as fast as possible.
"On your feet, you criminal!" one of the priests barked, pointing straight at him.
The hooded man slowly clenched his bandaged fists… and stood up.
He was huge.
And strangely… handsome, despite the bandages and worn-out cloak.
Elior swallowed.
Was he even human?
His face was gentle… pale… almost too calm for the situation.
"What's your name? And where are you from?" one priest demanded.
Another priest couldn't keep his greedy eyes off the gold coin still on the table.
Before the hooded man could answer-
"Guards! Take him away!" a priest shouted.
A group of guards burst into the restaurant and seized him.
He didn't struggle-not even a little.
But as they dragged him out, he suddenly stopped and turned, staring at the priests with pure disgust.
Whack!!
A slap rang out across the room as one priest struck him across the face.
"How dare you look at me with those filthy, demon-possessed eyes of yours!" the priest spat.
"Take him out of my sight! Tie him to the stake!"
A wave of shock went through the entire restaurant.
The stake-
A long, heavy log used only to kill criminals… or people believed to be demon-possessed.
Usually by burning them alive.
But they weren't even sure this man was the culprit.
He didn't look like a criminal.
Just someone poor… injured… wandering.
Elior felt rage building in his chest, a heat crawling up his throat.
But what could he do?
He was just a nobody.
As Elior silently wrestled with his anger-
"You'll all regret this," a voice boomed.
Cold. Sharp. Echoing.
It was the hooded figure.
"All of you," he added as he turned, looking over the entire room.
A man in the crowd exploded with anger.
He stood, snatched his plate, and hurled it at the hooded man.
"How dare you threaten us, you culprit!"
He marched toward him, the crowd parting around him like water.
"People like you are the reason Volradis is in this rotten state!
And filth like you must be purged from this city!"
Spaa!
He spat in the man's face.
The restaurant erupted.
People threw cups, plates, bread-anything they could grab.
"Yeah, take him away!"
"Kill him!"
"Burn the demon!"
"He's dead already!"
The guards shoved him out the door.
Elior kept his gaze on the floor, fists trembling.
He was furious-furious at how people were killed over false accusations,
furious at how the priests twisted the name of their God to justify cruelty.
As the guards dragged the hooded man away, he suddenly turned-
and his eyes met Elior's.
"Thank you… for caring for me, friend," he said softly.
"You're a good man."
He smiled gently.
Elior's heart cracked.
He stormed out the restaurant's back door, fists clenched tightly,tears rolled down his face as he sat down on the pavement.
The gold coin was still inside his hand.
"You don't need to be hard on yourself," a soft voice broke through his tears.
Elior looked up.
Rebecca-the head chef's daughter.
Another person Elior considered a true friend.
She gave him a small, warm smile.
"I'm not… it's just… why is life so unfair? That man didn't even do anything wrong," Elior muttered, wiping his face.
"How do you know that for certain?" Rebecca asked.
"Well… he didn't seem evil. And the gold coin he gave me wasn't from Volradis' temple.
It didn't even have the emperor's face on it."
He showed her the coin.
Volradis coins always carried the carved head of the Emperor of Volrad.
All eight empires had their own currencies, each bearing its emperor's face.
But this coin…
This one belonged to Quinvincy-the empire closest to Volradis.
Rebecca's face grew pale.
She was hurt by the injustice of it all.
"Come on," she said, trying to brighten the mood.
"I believe he wouldn't want you sad."
"Yeah… you're right," Elior muttered. "He wouldn't want me angry."
He stood.
"Thanks, Rebecca."
She smiled.
"No problem. What are you looking a-"
She paused.
Elior was staring at her cleavage.
Bam!
She smacked him on the head.
"You damn… pervert!" she yelled, embarrassed.
"Now get back to work!"
For someone a year younger than him, she hit incredibly hard.
But she was Old Man Garrus's daughter, after all.
---
Soon the sun began to set, and the day came to an end.
"Done!" Elior said proudly.
"Old man, I'm done!"
"Yeah, yeah-now scram outta here before I change my mind!" Garrus barked.
Elior dropped his apron on the shelf and dashed toward the market.
He worked evenings for a small farmer, Jeremiah- people called him Jeremy.
"Hi, Mister Jeremy!" Elior waved.
"Hey, you're early today. That's new," Jeremiah said, surprised.
"Had a quick finish at the restaurant," Elior replied, loading fruit into a wheelbarrow.
"Good. Deliver two sacks of oranges to Mister Cane, then two watermelons to Miss Tasha."
"Got it!"
Elior hurried off.
But as he approached the city center…
he froze.
There- on the stake-
hung the hooded man.
Already dead.
Elior felt something twist painfully inside his chest.
He wanted to cry again…
but he swallowed it down.
Since when did he start caring about anyone?
He kept walking, pushing the wheelbarrow with trembling hands.
-----
Meanwhile.... somewhere in the heavens
"How was your journey?" a radiant figure asked.
"It was quite fruitful," came the reply.
The hooded figure stood there-
but transformed.
No longer wrapped in a worn cloak.
His garments shone like blazing light.
Six wings unfolded behind him.
"Really? So there are righteous men in Volradis?" the figure asked.
"Yes," the angel replied.
"But only one."
"And who is this soul?"
"He goes by the name… Elior Wright."
"Elior, you say…"
The radiant figure stepped forward.
"Then we shall use him."
A pause.
A ripple of divine power.
"Watch him closely.
He is our new herald."