Somewhere further away, Virt continued onward toward his barracks, his face contorted slightly, something that no one but his closest allies would have picked up.
In truth, he was currently in horrible agony.
Not the mundane kind, where physical pain tormented one's body, but instead the pain of the divine.
The burden of a thousand unanswered prayers.
"Please, Saint Sid, save us!"
"Saint Sid, please-"
"Saint Virt-"
That one must have not been updated yet.
It must have been hard for people to digest the weight he carried, the pain he undertook, the constant cacophony of wails coming from inside his head and his ears at the same time, it all made him feel insane.
Like the Gods had been.
It was like trying to listen to music while studying the scriptures while having all the Priests and Elders nagging at you, while also being burnt alive from the pain of healing others.
In short, it was torture.
The unanswered prayers plagued Virt's mind like a constant ringing in his ears, becoming so cluttered he almost stumbled over himself while simply walking back to his residence.
In fact, this sort of thing happened so often his cohort had to consistently take breaks for him to rest before departing on the next step of the journey.
And yet, Virt withstood this torment. Not for the purpose of healing others, but to ensure that no one else would carry the burden of Saint. And now, he was just supposed to watch an innocent bystander get caught up in this mess? A sacrifice to maintain a facade of peace?
Worst still, he himself would still be the Saint, ridden by its Burden.
Virt sacrificing himself was allowed, he would willingly go through that if it meant no one else would, even if it meant ostracism for being the only Saint who couldn't Ascend.
An innocent sacrifice? For the sake of maintaining a false facade?
That, he could not tolerate.
Wandering to the barracks, the sound of children laughing lingered in the air, miraculously breaking through Virt's Burden. Virt noticed Instructor Mane teaching his disciples, and through the barrage of cries, he managed to somehow eavesdrop on his lesson.
"So, who knows how a Mage uses Magic?"
A boisterous young boy snapped, his short golden hair bouncing about his head, responding in a high and speedy tone.
"They control the Element in their Zone!"
The tan, bald man erupted with a hearty laugh, his muscular figure casting a long, deep shadow upon the dirt of the training grounds.
"Yes! To be precise, they use Mana to alter the properties of their Elements! Now, who can tell me what is a Zone?"
Another one chimed in, this time a petite girl with raven black hair.
"The area around a Mage where they have absolute control over their Element, where the Mage can expand or contract it to increase control over their Element." She said seriously, staring daggers at the young boy.
"Wonderful! Now, who can tell me how one discovers their Element?"
This time, the class remained silent.
"Well, you simply observe your surroundings!" Mane said, as if that answer gave the children any more enlightenment.
"How helpful…" Virt heard one of them mumble.
Noticing Virt, Mane quickly grabbed onto him, bringing him in front of the class like it was a show and tell.
Virt was noticeably shocked, his posture still in a walking motion.
Virt knew Mane had always been fearless from their countless expeditions, but talking to an excommunicated member of the Church was a new barrier crossed, even for a mercenary like him.
He continued with his lesson, displaying Virt like an object of great historical significance. Virt remained silent throughout.
"Now, look at ex-Saint Virt, see how the light glows brighter around him? That's his Element, Light. And the area that Light glows brighter is his Zone. Simple enough, right?"
The children looked at Virt, their mouths agape and bodies leaned forward, their big puppy dog eyes staring at him, as if begging for something.
Virt remained silent and closed his eyes, afraid of the consequences given to them should he talk.
A good lecture later, Mane gave him a pat on the back, lightly pushing Virt, and giving him a subtle thumbs-up with a tiny smile on his face. Virt was finally free to go.
He started his way back to his barracks after that long–but entertaining–detour. Droplets of rain fell from the sky, this time–thankfully–of the ordinary kind, not of the mad Gods kind. Unbothered, or simply not noticing, Virt continued on his path, slowly and sluggishly. The uneven gravel turned to mud, and pockets of water formed on the streets of the Church.
Looking down, he noticed his face. The usual sharpness to his eyes was gone, now sunken and depressed. His long, disheveled hair drenched by the rain, himself uncaring about its length or looks, too preoccupied with his duties. Of course, he had put up an effort to show the kids his bright side, but now, with no one watching, he had put up no facade.
Just like those Elders.
They smiled. They preached. They pretended.
Now, he was no better, hiding the despair behind his eyes and the madness behind his steps.
Virt dragged his hand across his face, smearing it with the mud of the walls he had limped across.
"You hypocrite." he muttered.
He was a hypocrite.
But he was not going to let others be affected for it.
That was the difference.
That was his purpose.
To bear the sins of the people.
To be their Saint.
Their God.