With waiting for more news as their only option, Borlen led the pilgrims in a vigil that went on as the moon flitted from behind the clouds above. The pilgrims alternated between prayers and songs of a subdued tone while their children slept.

  Even though they were accepting of him, Elian thought himself an intruder if he sat in their circle. He wasn’t a follower of Tharguras and couldn’t share their emotions. Faking it would be mocking them. He decided to meditate in the forest, walking away some distance from the camp to give the pilgrims some privacy but still within earshot so he could rush over if there was trouble.

  His meditation was mired by overthinking, preventing him from descending into a trance.

  Something fishy is going on…

  No way Tharguras would steal from the temple—he was the most obvious culprit, and it’d be even more obvious if he used the armor from the golden hall for his Tribulation. Clearly, he was being framed. But by who? Faridar? Was that whole cooperation thing a ploy? But there was no point for Faridar to frame Tharguras because he was ahead of Tharguras. Strong enough to borrow from the golden hall while Tharguras wasn’t allowed to.

  That left a third party as the culprit.

  This mysterious person—more likely, a group—was incredibly skilled to pull off the heist from under the noses of the powerful priests. But stealing from the temple, incredibly valuable the item may be, wasn’t the thieves’ end goal, Elian was sure. Why do it right before Tharguras’ Tribulation? Why do it when things have calmed down? If turmoil among pilgrims was supposed to be a distraction to hide evidence or cover a getaway, the theft should’ve been done when tensions were highest.

  Committing the crime now showed the thieves wanted to break the peace of the hills and sow discord among pilgrims. Such dangerous thieves they were, both skilled and manipulative, and with malicious plans.

  “Things are going to get worse,” Elian mumbled.

  And these things likely prevented the Temples of Tribulation from mounting a semblance of resistance against Giants in the previous timeline. He had read nothing about the fate of this area, which probably meant the Giants easily swept through here, the power of the priests and Penitents nowhere to be found.

  “Looking on the bright side… I still haven’t left for Ohmenstrat or Sabyn Mountain. I can prevent a disaster if it were to happen.”

  Finding an even ‘brighter side’, he wouldn’t have traveled here if not for the Elder Giant’s Curse. Perhaps the defense of Raelyon hinged on preventing conflict from destroying the Temples of Tribulation. Elian knew the universe didn’t have an actual personality, but at that moment, he imagined fate telling him that he had a role to play here.

  Around midnight, the singing stopped and Elian came to find a Tharguras supporter from another camp bringing ill news. The messenger confirmed the theft from the golden hall. Tharguras willingly surrendered himself to be questioned by the priests.

  “An innocent man has nothing to hide,” said Borlen. “We trust our Champion Penitent.”

  “Amen, brother,” the messenger said. “The culprit will soon be found and pay dearly for sullying the name of Penitent Tharguras. Such evil design must not go unpunished. We will work together to investigate this matter.” He told Borlen about a meeting of the various leaders of Tharguras’ supporters tomorrow. With Tharguras unavailable, they had to vote on how to proceed.

  “Let us remain calm,” Borlen told the others after the messenger left. “The true thief intends to put us in a bad light. If we let ourselves be provoked, we’d be playing right into their hands. We may feel anger but this is not the time to show it.”

  Elian retreated into the forest as the pilgrims returned to chanting. He wanted to help them but didn’t know how. For now, all he could do was stay awake as a guard.

  The following day, word went out among the followers of Tharguras that his Tribulation was canceled. The pilgrims had already expected this to happen and thus stayed in their camp. Only Borlen aided by Casimir left at the break of dawn to meet with the leaders of other groups and discuss their next steps. Temple guards and golems spread everywhere, with a patrol passing by moments ago, so Elian wasn’t too worried about Borlen’s safety.

  Elian didn’t stray far from the camp, returning to his meditation spot to practice using Viney. He saved his Tribulation, planning to do it late in the evening if the day went without issue.

  He also didn’t go to the temple. It was probably closed anyway. Better guard the pilgrims.

  Viney had leveled up to thirteen; its Barkskin coating now reached past Elian’s elbow. It could be made to cover his entire arm if it thinned itself. He experimented with making different shapes with it, like a hammer and an axe. A curved blade jutting from his arm looked cool, though he couldn’t yet mold a strong cutting edge. This would be useful for Viney to chop wood or food. If for actual combat, Viney didn’t have much in the way of Attack Power. Aether constructs could augment it—he could give Viney an Aether sword or some other weapon to wield—but it’d be far from reliable in a fight.

  However, for the Sarnival Port tournament, Elian didn’t need to kill or even hurt his enemies.

  He could restrict opponents using Viney and Aether constructs, and then roll them off the stage. That’d count as a win. Gideon could whip up paralyzing toxins to bolster his strategy. No need for Manifested Armor minions or Viney to fight for him. If moving the enemy out-of-bounds wouldn’t work, his Tribulation was the ace up his sleeve.

  Elian also practiced controlling Viney’s Rejuvenating Roots, testing how far they’d stretch and allow him to move. Just a step or two from his spot. Lengthening the roots resulted in fewer tendrils buried in the ground, lessening the amount of nutrients they absorbed.

  Best to stay in place, heal up quickly, and move afterward.

  Next, he cobbled together Viney and his Aether constructs, hoping to make a strong shield against magic. He willed Viney to make a round shield, or rather, the skeleton of one. He thickened the framework made of hardened vine. Then he slotted Aether constructs with protection seals inside the framework, kind of like putting together blocks in a mold.

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  “Okay, I’m not sure if this is doing anything,” Elian said, examining the shield on his arm. He may have fitted Viney and the constructs together, but that didn’t mean they had merged and became stronger. Layering Aether constructs as usual in front of the Viney shield seemed simplest and best. “Looks impressive though.”

  “It does have an impressive appearance,” said a voice behind him. Turning around, Elian saw Thalman approaching from the direction of the camp. “Good day, brother Elian,” said the priest. “I came to visit Borlen, but he is away. Are you done with your Tribulation?”

  How does he—? Right, Thalman was talking with Borlen before when Elian had returned to camp from his daily Tribulation. The pilgrims had also told Thalman this was his routine. The priest remembered about it.

  “I’m taking a break from my Tribulations,” Elian said offhandedly. Those with the Boon of the Magistrate weren’t required to do it daily. “I want to be wholly prepared for the next one. Also, with, um, concerning happenings, I can concentrate on my preparations. What happened with the—?”

  “What curiousity are you making there, brother?” Thalman asked, pointing at the shield of vines coiled around glowing purple constructs. The priest parried Elian’s topic change with his own topic change.

  If Thalman didn’t want to talk about the theft, fine. So long as he wouldn’t ask about Elian’s Tribulation either. “I’m trying to see if I can make a shield against magic,” Elian explained. “My physical defenses are progressing well—they have to, for Tribulations—but my Magical Resilience is lacking. I’m thinking of joining the Sarnival Port tournament. Magic-wielding opponents are to be expected. If I win, it’ll be glory to the Magistrate… and the prize money for me to spend on Tribulations.”

  Thalman didn’t bite his joke. “Ah, that tournament brings back memories,” said the priest, looking up at the sun. “Thirty-six years had passed since I joined the first tournament held by the First Sword of Caelidon—he’s the grandfather of Priestess Hazelheart.”

  “Such a long time ago. Were you already a Penitent then?” Elian carefully asked. This might be the chance to get close to Thalman.

  “Yes, I was well on the Penitent Path. Exciting days, those were. The thrill of not knowing if the next Tribulation will be my last.”

  What? Elian blinked. That wasn’t such a priestly thing to say.

  Thalman must’ve been wild in his younger days. Also, even if one wouldn’t really know for sure if they’d survive a Tribulation, it could be estimated to some extent. But the way Thalman spoke made Elian think he’d call for a Tribulation even if success wasn’t mostly certain. That said, dispersing the damage of the Tribulation to uniquely made Aether constructs was one of the safest strategies Elian had read about.

  “But at some point,” Thalman continued, “I could no longer carry the burden. And so, I had to lay it down and became a priest.”

  “At what point did you decide to do so?” Elian wracked his brains on how to stir the conversation to Thalman’s alleged attack on the Magistrate. How could he indirectly ask about it without being disrespectful? “I mean, I’m hoping to become an Enlightened Penitent like you. A long shot to reach it, but just the same, I’ll have to stop my journey eventually too. Maybe you can give me some pointers?”

  “Ask others… ask Borlen. It is an agonizing decision. One not easily made. There will be doubt… of yourself, your faith, your resolution. There will be embarrassment, inwardly and outwardly. You’ll think that you’re insufficient. The weight of the uncalled Tribulation will press on you for the rest of your life, always on your mind that you couldn’t overcome it.”

  Elian nodded. This was the experience of Borlen and many other Stagnants. “How did you handle these feelings?”

  “I did not.” Thalman faced Elian with a blank stare. “I haven’t suffered them, for laying down my burden wasn’t solely my choice. I was simply sharing what I’ve seen from the many Penitents that passed through the temple halls.”

  This is it. Elian was certain Thalman meant he was forced to become a priest. “It wasn’t your choice to stop your Penitent Path? Why? I, uh, if it’s alright to ask.” This time, Elian knew he was overstepping it but pressed on with his question because he wanted to know if he could befriend Thalman someday. His senses also told him there was more to the story that might be helpful to him.

  “To survive,” Thalman said.

  “Survive?” Elian tilted his head. Wasn’t that the point of stopping Tribulations? It was as if Thalman was answering a different question.

  The priest shook his head. “A long time has passed since then, and it is improper to dwell on it as a priest. Suffice to say that I am now bound to serve the Hundred-Armed Magistrate—this is my burden.”

  “Speaking of burden,” Elian hastily spoke as Thalman started to fade. “Has any priest walked the Penitent Path again? They could prepare over the years for the Tribulation they couldn’t survive before. Sorry if I’m asking too many questions.”

  “There are those who choose to carry their burdens again.” Thalman stopped disappearing, retaining a translucent appearance. “Priest Ihadir continues his quest for ever stronger brews.”

  Is he the one inside the Forbidden Temple? Elian wondered. Probably doing some crazy experiments.

  “And I believe that Priestess Hazelheart ended her journey too early,” added Thalman. “She is yet to reach her peak. Her reasons for resting are her own. Some may find it impossible to retread the Penitent Path even if their heart desires so—the High Priest, for example. I’m assuming you know of his condition given your extensive research in the library. Marielle tells me you almost live there.”

  “Er, yeah. She’s very helpful. I’m ashamed of bothering her too much. What about you, Priest Thalman? I’m eager and willing to be of help to you. I may pick up some useful tidbits about Aether Magic while doing so.” It was a reasonable reason for trying to get close to him. Maybe add in a bit of bumbling to make it realistic. “And, and, uh, this isn’t just for personal reasons that I’m volunteering, I swear. You’re very kind; everyone I’ve talked to says so. I don’t think anyone is as deserving as you to become a Penitent again.”

  Thalman laughed as he solidified again. “Everyone says so, do they? I’m only treating others as I want to be treated, a lesson I’ve learned far too late in my life.” The priest sighed, adjusting his glasses as he looked at Finlay. “Unfortunately, Brother Elian, I’m in the latter category of priests. The possibility that I can once again walk on the Penitent Path lessens with each passing day. Given the years that have passed, it is impossible now.”

  What is he talking about? Elian wanted to know more but figured he pushed the priest far enough for today. Not counting their first meeting, this was the longest they had conversed. “Thank you for your wisdom and time, Priest Thalman. I hope I’m not keeping you from your duties. Oh, and thank you for allowing me access to the lower floors of the library.”

  “I trust that you’ve read my recommended books?”

  “I did. But they are very difficult. They were so advanced it was like reading another language. Some of them were in different languages, actually. I’m just a beginner in my Aether Magic journey. Perhaps you can teach me? I know you’re busy and—”

  “I can do that.” Priest Thalman shimmered and solidified once again. Did he switch clones? Was this his real body?

  “Wait, are you really going to teach me?” Elian couldn’t believe his luck.

  “Someone as promising as you need to be nurtured. We can start by fixing your shield.”