Baro stood there, staring at the spot where the old man had been moments ago. Empty chair. Empty space. Empty... thoughts? Not quite. His mind was spinning, but his body stayed still, like he was trying to glue himself to reality by sheer stillness.
"Gone just like that, huh…" he muttered under his breath, not expecting an answer and definitely not getting one.
He turned to Furfur, who met his gaze without blinking.
"Not becoming an Exalted…" Baro said slowly. "That's supposed to be the path, right? The top of the food chain and all that."
Furfur just stared, tail swaying lazily.
Baro rubbed his chin. "But… he never said anything about Sacred."
That word. Sacred. It buzzed in his head like a forbidden spell. Something dangerous. Something rare.
Without waiting, Baro flagged down the nearest worker—just some random dude carrying boxes and looking like he'd rather be doing anything else.
"Hey, how does someone become Sacred? Is there a test or something?"
The worker blinked at him like he'd just asked how to punch God in the face.
"You serious? Only the worthy can even try. It's not about passing a test—it's about being something else entirely. Something… more faithful. People say Sacred aren't born, they're revealed."
"Right," Baro nodded, already not listening to the spiritual crap. "But where do I go to try?"
The worker hesitated, then pointed. "See those stairs? Yeah, those ones. They go to the Church. Trials are up there. But don't get excited—no one's even made it halfway in years."
Baro looked. He whistled low. The stairs were absurd. Ridiculously tall. Like they'd been made for titans, not humans. The kind of stairs that didn't lead to a building—they led to something else.
"Appreciate it," Baro said with a grin, cracking his neck. He turned, calling back over his shoulder: "Let's go, Furfur!"
The worker stared at him, dumbfounded. "He wouldn't really throw away his status as a Righteous just like that… would he?"
Baro ran. Not because he was in a rush. But because the thrill in his chest said now.
Eventually, he stood at the base of the stairway. The steps were massive, old, moss-eaten and cracked. They stretched upward into the clouds—literally. The top wasn't visible. It was like trying to see the end of time.
"No church," Baro muttered, squinting upward. "Figures."
"You lost, dear?"
Baro turned. An old woman stood nearby, hunched but smiling. Her eyes were sharp, though—too sharp for someone her age.
"Cute little wolf you've got there," she added, bending to scratch Furfur behind the ears. He didn't mind her, which was saying something.
"You said church?" Baro asked.
"Up there," she said, pointing skyward. "At least, that's what they say. Haven't been up myself. My knees would never forgive me."
"And I can just… start climbing?"
She smiled. It was soft, but it carried weight. "Of course, dear. That is… if you think you're ready."
Baro grinned. That stupid grin he always had when he was about to do something reckless.
"I don't know if I'm ready," he said. "But I'm going anyway."
Baro took his first step up the staircase.
The stone felt solid under his feet. Cold, old, yet somehow… expectant. Like it had been waiting. He cracked his knuckles, then began to climb.
Just him, a staircase that scraped the heavens, and little Furfur.
The old woman watched him go, a gentle smile playing on her lips. She leaned on her cane—or what looked like a cane—and sighed, almost theatrically.
"Hmph," she murmured, voice low and laced with something more than age. "No fear. No prayer. Not even a glance back."
A few more silent moments passed as she watched Baro climb. Step by step. Steady. Determined. Reckless in that beautiful, arrogant way mortals could be.
Baro kept going.
He wasn't counting the steps, because that would have been insane. Somewhere past a hundred, maybe two, he noticed the air thinning. Or, rather, that it should have been thinning. He wasn't short of breath. Wasn't sweating. But his body was starting to feel... disconnected. Like the weight of each movement didn't match the exertion.
It was weird.
He should've been exhausted. He should've been gasping. He should've felt something.
But all he really felt was the softness of Furfur's fur, brushing against his palm with each step. Rhythmic. Reassuring. Real.
"Still with me?" Baro asked casually, not breaking stride.
Furfur made a low chuffing noise. Maybe agreement. Maybe mockery. Hard to tell.
Baro chuckled and scratched between the pup's ears as he turned around "Now I just want me and you" he stared at Furfur excitedly "To watch the sun set just soaking the view for a little while."
Behind him lay the world, stretched out like a painting on a broken canvas. houses like dots. Rivers like silver veins.
Baro sat down. Cross-legged. No ceremony, just ease. He pulled Furfur into his lap without asking, without speaking.
He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the thin air. The silence wasn't empty here—it was full.
"You think they'd let me build a house up here?" he asked softly. "Not for long. Just… something with a view."
Furfur didn't answer.
Down below, the old woman blinked.
"Huh?"
She leaned forward, peering up the winding stairs. She could no longer see him clearly, just a faint silhouette against the horizon, haloed by the light of a tired, setting sun.
"He stopped?"
A pause.
"To look at the view?"
She didn't say anything else, but her fingers tightened slightly around her cane. Her smile was gone.
"Or maybe... he just doesn't care."
...
His grin returned, slow and stupid and full of trouble.
"All right," he said. "Break's over."
He stood. Furfur leapt back to his side.
And the climb began again...
Baro didn't know how long he'd been climbing.
It was weird.
He should've been exhausted. He should've been gasping. He should've felt something.
But all he really felt was the softness of Furfur's fur, brushing against his palm with each step. Rhythmic. Reassuring.
And then it happened. He saw the church at the top.