Sebastian swung his hammer at the training doll in front of him, his eyes looked blank and the movement felt automatic. Today is his twelve birthday. However, there’s no cakes, no candles, no Apollonia, no Edward and no place he can call home. Sebastian’s mind is elsewhere entirely. The fight he had with Valentinus and Ipsilas was playing inside his mind like a broken record. Sebastian recalls when he fights with Valentinus, a church Cardinal who went mad with power. Then he remembers his fight with Ipsilas, the mysterious Marshall of Duke Kleon......the person who killed his Mother, Father and Mentor.

  Follow me, Golden Boy. With our strength, we can kill every fox and snake in Latinum.

  THINK, SON! THINK! VALENTINUS HAD THE RELIC TO CONTROL THE STAMPEDE! I COOPERATED WITH HIM JUST TO GET DUKE KLEON TO SAFETY! THIS WHOLE THING IS A CHURCH CONSPIRACY—PLAIN AND SIMPLE!

  Those words kept bugging Sebastian's mind. What’s the reason for that word? Was he trying to recruit him? After he killed his parents and mentor? That was insanity of the highest order. But why did he desperately want to recruit him? Or maybe Sebastian had just misinterpreted Ipsilas's words. No one knows except for Ipsilas himself. A mad man with godly power. Sebastian couldn’t think of a better word to describe Ipsilas.

  As Sebastian trained in the training hall, the door opened, revealing Demetrius arrived with his entourage. He looked at Sebastian, who didn’t even acknowledge his presence in the room. Demetrius stepped closer so he could be noticed by Sebastian. Then he kneels before bowing and lifting his hand showing a scroll on his hand.

  “Good morning Saint, I see you’re doing well.”

  Sebastian only briefly glanced towards Demetrius. He swinging his hammer without saying anything towards the doll in front of him.

  “The pope has sent you to Francia for a church mission. The details of this mission are in this scroll.”

  Sebastian stopped and read the contents of the scroll, then he rolled it back without saying anything and left the room. Demetrius lifted his head as he watched Sebastian leave. His eyes looked cold and distant as he watched Sebastian go into the hallway. Demetrius stood up and looked at the training doll Sebastian used. He shook his head in disbelief because of what he saw.

  “This is the tenth doll this week alone,” Demetrius said as he watched the badly beaten doll in front of him.

  Sebastian walked in the palace hallway alone to his room before he was stopped by someone. There stood Vulcan, Dwarf smith of the Diocese. Unlike most people in this palace, Vulcan doesn’t really care about the hierarchy of people around. He greeted the pope just like he greeted normal soldier or people. Vulcan smiled at Sebastian, he looked cheerful even with his massive beard covering his mouth expression.

  “Ya armor is ready! Ya just to put it on now and see how it feels!”

  “Now?”

  “Later when you turn twenty! Of course now you donkey! Chop chop, let’s head towards my workshop.”

  Sebastian followed Vulcan toward his workshop. Along the way, he met many church officials who immediately bowed their heads to him. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness when people acted like that. For as long as he had lived, he had always been a normal person. Seeing people venerate him and kneel before him felt strange, as if he were stranded on an island, separated from everyone.

  Vulcan and Sebastian entered the workshop, then there it is. Sebastian looked at the beautiful armor and shield on a stand. A full body black armor and shield, lined with Dwarven gold. On the Shield inner part, Sebastian can see an engraving. May god protect me in this storm. Sebastian circles the armor and shield as he inspects every single thing about this work of art. Dwarves' craft are truly remarkable, no wonder the church keeps Vulcan here even though he’s not a believer. As Sebastian admired his armor, Vulcan looked at it as if he was unsatisfied with it. True as the saying goes, ‘the artist can only see flaws in his art, while others see its beauty’.

  “It shiet,” Vulcan remark as he sat on a chair.

  “What?!” Sebastian looked at Vulcan in shock.

  “Tis for a child, it doesn’t show the BRASH and the BRAWN! I don’t even know why the Pope wants to arm a child. Take it away and come back when yar an adult, I’ll make a better one.”

  Sebastian tried to put the armor on by himself. However, Vulcan can see Sebastian struggling to put the armor on as he has never done it before. Vulcan Watch Sebastian struggle with a smug, this kid has been disrespectful towards him for several months, now he must learn a lesson. After a while, Sebastian finally put the armor on. He can feel the lightness of this armor even though it looks really heavy from the outside. The shield on the other side is totally the opposite. It’s heavy as Sebastian trying to lift a huge sack of grain with one hand.

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  “Why....is this Shield......so....HEAVY!”

  “I thought ya like heavy weapons. That black hammer of yours is really heavy too right? Might as well.”

  Sebastian looked at Vulcan with annoyance. He knew Vulcan did it as some sort of prank and punishment for him. However, despite the weight, the shield is extremely well made and beautiful. Vulcan looked at Sebastian as he was waiting to hear Sebastian begging forgiveness and to create another shield. But Sebastian won’t give him that satisfaction. He just tough it out and walked out from the workshop without saying anything. He can feel Vulcan eyes staring daggers at him.

  “NOT EVEN A THANK YA?! YA HORKA!!”

  Sebastian just smiled mockingly as he walked away. He believes Vulcan just uses a dwarf’s language to insult him, but he can’t feel offended by something he doesn’t know. As Sebastian walked past the palace garden, there he can see Dalia with Carlos like usual. Both of them are Saint just like him.

  Dalia is a Felinid from Berbera, her parents are a devout follower of the church back in their country. Although Felinid is not really a religious people, they stay there to spread the words of god as some kind of unofficial missionary. Dalia's parents found out about her stigmata as she was turning six when the city was struck by some kind of plague. Dalia managed to cure a lot of the people and turn them into followers. As soon as the plagues were gone, Dalia was immediately taken by the church and now she has remained here for the last ten years.

  While Dalia was known for her healing ability, Carlos was known as patron saint of craftsmen. He came from the devout land of Asturias in the west where the land met the endless ocean Okeanos. Carlos came from a wealthy family of Goldsmith. They’re practically a noble with the amount of wealth and connection they have. Carlos manifested his stigmata on both of his arms when he was seven and tasked to help create a now emperor of Asturias crown. Now that crowns have become a national treasure and lift Carlos' family to a new height. Carlos was taken to the church as soon as the church found out about the miracle he did and he’s been staying here for eight years.

  Dalia waves her hand happily toward Sebastian, signaling him to come. However, Carlos emanated an aura of ‘don’t you dare approach’ with his eyes. Sebastian knows there’s something between those two as they’re been here for many years together. Although there’s a rule on celibacy for Saint and church officials, it wasn’t Sebastian's place to lecture those two about it. Sebastian just walked away without saying anything, Dalia on the other hand seems concerned about Sebastian behavior since he arrived here.

  "I feel bad for him," she murmured. "He’s not adjusting well."

  "He’s just a kid," Carlos scoffed. "He’ll get used to it."

  "The Isildus tragedy must have scarred him deeply."

  Carlos shrugged. "That whole city was obliterated. Some unholy relic was involved. Makes sense, since he’s a War Saint."

  Dalia whipped her head toward him, furious.

  "You can’t call him that! He’s the Patron Saint of Martial Artists—not a War Saint!"

  "Relax," Carlos chuckled. "That’s just what the Cardinals are calling him."

  Dalia clenched her fists. "It sounds cruel… like he was born for war."

  Carlos grinned. "Don’t worry, my dear Dalia, if war ever comes, I’ll protect you."

  Dalia looked angrier than before, though Carlos seemed oblivious.

  "I hope war never comes," she murmured.

  Sebastian walks through the palace hall alone. Church guards can be seen bowing his head towards him as he passes. However, there’s a group of people walking towards him. Sebastian could see the emblem on their body plates and that’s the emblem he knows very well. The Inquisitor. Out of all church orders they’re the most radical and unorthodox out there. Sebastian knew well what they’re capable of doing. And how far they’re willing to tread the line between Sacrilegious and Worship. As they walked closer towards Sebastian, he could feel their eyes locked and fixated towards him full of scrutiny or even judgement. Not a single Inquisitor Agent bow or even show respect towards Sebastian. Yet somehow, Sebastian kind of liked it. He had grown sick of the endless kneeling, the reverence, the whispers of “Saint” like he was something divine. These people saw him as an enemy—and in some twisted way, it made him feel human again.

  Every single fiber on Sebastian's body told him to pounce on them and turn them into a blood soup. Right here. Right now. But he wasn’t here to start a fight. Not today. Not yet. Sebastian forced himself to keep walking, swallowing the rage bubbling in his chest. As he walked passed the inquisitor and went on his way to his room. Another familiar face appears in front of him.

  Constantia just casually leaned her body on Sebastian's room door. Sebastian could feel his anger rising towards his throat, he wonders if suddenly Aspasia or Cain would show up so finally they can feel nostalgic together. Sebastian dig his finger deep inside his palm as he clenched his fist. How many ghosts from the past would appear in front of him today? This whole thing feels like a divine comedy and he’s the main jester that keeps getting ridiculed by fate. Constantia and Sebastian's eyes finally met, then suddenly Constantia bowed her head towards him. This shocked Sebastian a little bit.

  “Good afternoon, Saint. There’s something I wanted to talk about with you.”

  That’s something Sebastian didn’t expect at all. He expects some kind of dagger or maybe poison needle to just shoot straight out from Constantia's hand. Without a word he opened the door to his room and stepped inside. However, Constantia's hand appeared holding the door as it was about to close.

  “Please just hear me out!”

  Constantia felt a chill creep up her spine.

  From the darkness of the room, Sebastian’s eyes glowed with pure, seething malice—staring at her with an intensity that felt like it could burn her alive.. Immediately Constantia pulled her hands as if her life depended on it. Whatever Saint he met in Isildus is gone. She wonders what happened in that place after she’s gone to make Sebastian become even more terrifying like that. As Constantia stares at the closed door in front of her, she touches a necklace that binds her neck with a shaking finger.