Faith was a construct. A tool. A means to control the weak.
Erasmus did not believe in miracles, divine will, or the whims of unseen gods. The world was a machine—precise, ordered, governed by laws that dictated every motion, every breath, every fleeting moment of existence. Nothing was random. Nothing was inexplicable. And yet, in that instant, reality itself faltered.
The city stretched before him, its pristine streets lined with towering digital billboards preaching scripture in cold, fluorescent light. Electric trams glided along polished rails, the murmur of passengers rising and falling in waves, a hymn of human routine. Every movement was predictable, every pattern accounted for. Erasmus walked among them, his blindfolded gaze forward, his mind elsewhere. He had long since memorized the pulse of this place, understood its rhythm, its flow. And yet—
A flicker. A hesitation in the world itself.
Sound collapsed. Not faded, not muffled—vanished.
Gone was the hum of the city, the murmur of voices, the distant clatter of machinery. No wind stirred. No breath passed. Nothing. A vacuum of silence so absolute it pressed against his skin, thick and unnatural, a presence in itself.
Erasmus stopped.
He did not hear footsteps, nor feel the shift of air. And yet something was there. Not seen, not heard—felt. A twisting, wrongness lurking at the edges of his awareness, slithering through the stillness like a thing not meant to be perceived. He did not need eyes to know.
Then—
Snap.
The world returned.
Trams rumbled. Conversations resumed. Billboards flickered. People walked, talked, laughed—unaware that, for the briefest moment, reality had skipped like a stone over a frozen lake.
Erasmus inhaled slowly, his expression betraying nothing.
That had not been normal.
And yet… no one reacted. Not a single passerby hesitated. No heads turned, no voices wavered, no hands stilled. It was as though the moment had never happened. The city continued, flawless in its ignorance.
He tilted his head slightly beneath the blindfold, the fabric shifting against his skin. Had he imagined it?
No.
He had undergone years of deprivation training, honed his perception beyond human limits, trained his mind to distinguish reality from illusion, falsehood from truth. What he had felt—what had happened—was real.
And yet, something else lingered. Something deeper.
A weight, unnoticed until it was gone. It had been there for as long as he could remember—a quiet, unseen thing pressed against his existence. A gaze without form. A presence that had always loomed at the edges of his being.
And now? Nothing.
A silence deeper than sound.
For the first time in his life, nothing watched him.
Slowly, Erasmus exhaled. If there was one absolute truth in this world, it was that knowledge was power. And whatever had just happened… whatever had slipped, twisted, and righted itself should not have been possible.
Which meant he needed to understand it.
Because if reality itself could be broken—if something, somewhere, could override the laws of existence—then perhaps, just perhaps, he could learn how to do the same.
—
Outwardly, he remained composed, his pace measured as he moved through the city's pristine streets. Internally, his thoughts ran like sharpened gears, dissecting every possibility. A lapse in sound. A shift in presence. A moment where something had hesitated, flickered, glitched—as if the world itself had faltered.
Yet no one else had noticed.
Which meant two things.
One—this anomaly was not meant to be perceived.
Two—he was not like the others.
A quiet thrill curled through his thoughts.
Danger and opportunity were often one and the same.
A voice cut through his contemplation.
"Brother Erasmus."
He turned slightly. A middle-aged woman, her robes embroidered with gold-threaded scripture, approached with the reverence of one seeking absolution. Not just a worshipper—someone with influence.
"I saw you leaving the temple earlier," she said, voice soft with admiration. "Your devotion is truly inspiring."
Erasmus offered a serene smile, warmth calculated yet effortless. "Faith must be nurtured, Sister," he murmured. "Only through devotion do we find our purpose."
Her expression softened, the flicker of doubt in her eyes replaced with renewed conviction.
Weak.
So desperate for meaning. So eager to shape their lives around belief, to surrender choice in exchange for certainty. Fools. But fools could be useful.
She hesitated, her gaze shifting, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "My husband…" A pause. Fingers twisted together. "He has become… distant. Less devoted than he once was."
A problem. A crack in faith. She feared he was straying, slipping from the fold. Losing him meant losing certainty. And certainty was what she craved.
Erasmus tilted his head ever so slightly, allowing a moment of silence before speaking, his voice measured, deliberate. "Doubt is a test, Sister."
She clung to his words, desperate for direction.
"The All-Seeing does not punish those who waver—He watches, waits, and sees if they will return."
Relief flickered in her expression, but Erasmus did not let it settle. He let the pause stretch, long enough for the weight of uncertainty to take hold once more. Then, softly—regretfully—he continued.
"But those who do not return?" A sigh, quiet and solemn. "They risk not only their way… but their place among the faithful."
Her breath caught. She did not need him to elaborate. Her mind filled in the blanks on its own—her husband, isolated. Forsaken. Lost.
"No." Her voice steadied, her resolve hardened. "He will return. I will ensure it."
A spark of satisfaction flared within Erasmus. Though his expression remained gentle, the game had already been won.
"The All-Seeing watches over those who guide others back to Him," he said, voice smooth, unwavering. "Have faith, and you shall be rewarded."
Gratitude flooded her eyes. "Thank you, Brother Erasmus. Truly."
He merely nodded, offering a final, reassuring smile before stepping past her, leaving her thoughts tangled in the illusion of choice.
He had given her nothing but words.
And yet, she would carry them like scripture.
Even now, as something beyond comprehension had twisted the very fabric of reality, these people walked blindly, clinging to faith like children grasping at shadows.
Fools.
But fools could be useful.
Whatever had happened—whatever had dared to disrupt the order of this world—he would uncover it.
Because if there was something greater than the rules of existence…
Then he would master it.
And in time, this world—and any other—would belong to him.