The way back to the barracks had been an eye-opening experience.
Virt had developed a seething hatred—for himself, for the Elders, for the Balance.
It abandoned them all. Even after excommunication, it kept burdening him with prayers.
Worse still, its defect brought down a worse fate onto Sid, his longest companion in the Church, damning her to a job she could not fulfill. A miserable life she would continue onwards till the day she died.
It had damned her, remembered as the only Saint who could not Ascend, not by choice or inability, but simply due to its absence.
But no one knew that. No one cared either way. In the eyes of the public, she would be the worst Saint in history, her healing powers dwarfed by her forefathers, as if her precognition and divine powers simply did not work, unlike her counterparts.
She would be the lamb who was sacrificed to bring forth summer, only for the freezing winter winds to last another three months.
The scapegoat, the one who would be blamed, was not the Church, or even Virt, but Sid.
***
Somewhere not too far away, a red-haired girl sat, a paper scroll running before her like a majestic river. However, despite its length, only three sentences were written.
There were only two ways to reach Ascension.
Through Virtue, being a Saint chosen by the Balance.
Or through Sin, by spilling blood.
In another place not too far away, someone else had made a decision.
***
The barracks echoed with screams of agony.
There, a pale young man stood, slouched upon a red bed, its wooden frame chipped and dented. He covered his mouth, trickles of crimson leaking from the gaps of his palm. His blood seeped deep into the flooring, staining them with a putrid iron smell. His feeble body had been covered in deep gashes, with ichor streaming upwards into the open wounds like time had reversed, before closing with a luminous green.
Within his other palm laid a serrated iron knife, now sullied with a scarlet hue. The colour of the object gradually faded, retaining its original polished white. The scarlet hue? It drifted back through the air, meandering backwards to their source.
"To undergo Ascension was to walk the Path of Sin, spilling the blood of your enemies–and if not, your own."
He had read it in one of the older scriptures once, in the forbidden library only the Saints and Elders could enter.
That sole sentence rang like a gong in Virt's head, overpowering all the silly prayers he was bombarded by.
He was enthralled by the fact that there still lay a path forward for him, no matter how dire the cost.
If he could not Ascend through Virtue, he would through Sin.
The Balance could not hear him, but he would ensure the world did.
And the world had just started to hear his screams.
The screams of a future God.
Time flowed again, Virt's inhuman screams still reverberating throughout the room. Each breath drawn was ragged and quick, like a prey being chased by a hunter. His fingers twitched, as if trying to grab ahold of the leather grip of the knife, now resting on the floor.
Slowly, his vision focused, the blinding pain almost subsiding. His eyes, while still sunken, now shone with a glimmer of twisted determination. When he finally regained a semblance of sight, he noticed something in the corner of his eye.
A black cuboid stood, its aura irradiating a domineering cold. He shifted to view the object in its entirety.
It vanished.
'I must be going nuts from Sin' he concluded.
He felt crazy.
He also felt clear.
The obsessive repetition of the phrases dissolved away, replaced by the voices of prayer.
However, this time, they seemed quieter.
It was then he heard the doorknob twist, its old hinges creaking.
Mane had entered the dark room, unable to see much.
"Goodness, Virt, I know you can see completely well in your Zone, but could you please at least turn on the lamp?"
The oil lamps flickered on, the soft popping of its incandescent flame audible through the silent room.
What Mane saw left him in utter speechlessness.
"You cut your hair?" He exclaimed in shock.
Mane looked around the room, a faint smell of iron permeated the air, but that was likely from the rusting of the oil lamps.
The room was spotless.
Apart from the messy bed and long hair tossed about on the floor, it looked like a hotel accommodation for the most esteemed guests of the Government.
"Woah, what changed? A girlfriend maybe? I know you youngins are really desperate in this day and age! Congrats!" he said, his gruff voice not matching the excited tone he usually spoke with.
"Pray tell, who in the world keeps driving these stupid notions into your head? How does a haircut mean that I got a girlfriend?"
"I mean, the way you've been looking at Sid has been pretty telling the past few hours. What? Getting exiled finally gave you a chance to break Church rules and chase after a girl! Doubt Sid would allow it though, she is horribly faithful, that naive girl."
Giving out a sigh, Virt hurriedly brushed past Mane, pretending to be flustered.
He really needed to work on his acting skills.
One conversation with Mane was all it took for his secret to almost escape himself.
The secret of his Sin.