ThatHumanMage
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148. Old God
🕑 Added 2025-08-11 14:22:43 +0000 UTC[A/N:
It wouldn't be Delay Wielding if it was ever on time I suppose. Next chapter going up right away, next two I'm still gonna fight with a little longer, but they'll go up before I go to sleep again.
In the end, getting the pacing right here was all but impossible, hence the delay. But pro tip, if you read this chapter and the next back-to-back, I think it mostly works itself out. Lemme know though.
Anyways, happy to be back, and looking forward to officially being on schedule. My health has improved a good bit the last week or so I feel like, so that's good. Also I think I'll have a lot more time to write going forward, so yay for me!
I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!
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Kita led them to the opposite side of Liresil, near the outskirts by the river. Corrin could smell the smoke in the air before they ever reached it.
A boathouse squatted at the water’s edge, completely trashed in the aftermath of some battle. Flames still smoldered in patches along the mangled walls, which had had dozens of holes smashed into them.
Outside each of the holes, figures in tattered purple robes lay sprawled out, motionless.
“Are those…” Corrin trailed off, squinting at the bodies.
“Seems we weren’t the only ones who found something,” Luscien muttered.
In his mana sight, the entire area was burning, with fire mana dominating the air. It was potent, and as he tried to draw it in, he felt his channels singe. He cut off the flow with a hiss, then took in a measured breath after that. His intake slowed to a trickle as the mana seemed harder to take in than normal.
He hadn’t even known that was possible.
The boathouse was silent, save for the crackling of the flames but Kita bounded forward, caring little for them or the broken wood as he slipped through a hole in the front wall.
Corrin drew his sword and ducked after him, eyes sharp as he checked for any attackers.
The inside of the boathouse was in shambles. Parts of the roof had collapsed into flaming heaps, bodies draped in the same purple robes were strewn over the floor, and with the lack of blood, he couldn’t tell if they were dead or merely unconscious.
And in the middle of the wreckage, catching his breath atop the remnants of a staircase, Eryndor sat.
His sword was sheathed, but casually rested across one shoulder, his white coat somehow still pristine despite the chaos. In fact, he seemed almost completely untouched, except for a single, shallow cut running across his forehead, dripping blood down the side of his face.
He looked over as they arrived, seemingly unsurprised. He smiled nonetheless.
“My young disciples! If you’re here, I can only assume it means we’ve both had our share of trouble. Tell me, where is young Wyn?”
“He had something he had to take care of,” Corrin said. He glanced down at one of the unconscious men on the ground. “We found a camp outside the city—it was crawling with these guys.”
“It was marked as an Ecclesian camp,” Luscien added. “There was a man there…sir, he had three arms, and from what I saw, he seemed to be closer to your level than ours. He was—he was letting his blood into the root. Whatever he was, his blood alone was enough to poison it.”
As they spoke, Eryndor listened without saying a word, his expression unreadable. When they finished, he closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath, centering himself.
Then, his eyes snapped back open, and he affixed them with a firm gaze. “Our enemy,” he said, “is The Cult of The Old God.”
***
It had surprised Kei, the realization that she’d come to enjoy the summer. Winter had been her favorite season as a child. It was an actual excuse to stay indoors, sitting by the window with a cup of cocoa, watching the snow fall. Summer was fine enough, but chaperoned trips into the city and solitary afternoons spent in the garden hadn’t convinced her of its charm.
Her journey to the plateau hadn’t helped either. Traveling with a caravan through the sweltering heat each day—dust in her throat and sweat in her boots—was far from her idea of a good time.
When had that changed?
Of course, she already knew the answer. It had changed the same time everything else had—the day she met her two best friends.
The thought made her flush. She would never admit it aloud, especially not to either Corrin or Wyn, but the truth sat in her heart regardless. And yet, for all they’d been through, she still wondered what would happen when they reached Taravast. Would they remain close?
There were so many questions to which she still had no answers.
You should seek new experiences. New people, new places. Walk ten steps down a thousand paths, until you find one that you could walk for the rest of your life.
Eldress Jolaine’s words still stuck with her. A challenge to achieve Jiheng, a ‘purposeful life’.
She’d never actually heard any steps beyond the first—finding what it was she wanted to do. She still didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure if spending time hanging out in Liresil would help, but the weather was nice, wasn’t it? So why shouldn’t she enjoy it?
Kei strolled between Bruno and Aria along a winding, elevated walkway in the mid-levels of the city. Over the edge, the sun split the western clouds in two, its rays streaking a path of red and gold as it sank towards the horizon.
The Kei of two years ago might have gripped the handrail tightly, her stomach turning from the height, but she’d been to Precipice, and stared down the side of the Northern Plateau. Now, she hardly even noticed.
“I’ve heard the plateau is stunning from afar,” Aria replied when Kei mentioned as much. “Maybe I’ll visit someday.”
Bruno hummed. “If it wasn’t so far in the opposite direction—but Taravast is east, you know?”
“It’s not worth crossing the grass sea anyways.” Kei assuaged Aria’s disappointment. “You could go up through Falmouth instead, but the view isn’t nearly as nice.”
“You make it sound dreadful, but your eyes give you away,” Bruno said, smiling.
She blushed faintly. “Well… the sea wasn’t so bad I suppose. There’s a certain tranquility to it, and if you get the right captain, it can become enjoyable.”
It was funny—she could have sworn she spent so much of the voyage bored out of her mind. But now that it was behind her, she could only remember the good parts, and even the quiet of the wind in the morning seemed nostalgic.
“I’m jealous,” Aria admitted. “You’ve traveled further than we ever have. We’ve never actually left the central basin, for all my brother likes to talk about leaving.”
Bruno clicked his tongue. “We’re preparing our act, that’s all. Tareon didn’t conquer The Coatl until after first taming the other six great beasts!”
“You really like myths don’t you?” Kei asked, tilting her head.
“Of course!” Bruno laughed. “I couldn’t very well tell the stories if I didn’t know them. With my meager talents, I have no choice but to look up to those heroes, and sing their praises. Such is the role of a bard.”
Kei protested. “You have talent.”
“Ah, you must of course be referring to my effortless charms. I’m glad to see they’re working on you, but rest assured they are nothing but the results of my own efforts. Aria must have had a penchant for theft as a babe, for she stole the talents that were to be mine in the womb.”
“Hey!” Aria reached around Kei to slap his arm, but he danced away with another laugh.
“I’m serious,” Kei insisted. “Your performances are incredible!”
Bruno smiled, looking almost abashed. “I have the greatest performer in the world by my side, how could they not be?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Aria murmured.
“That’s not—” Kei sighed, dropping the topic. She hadn’t expected him of all people to avoid praise. “Oh well, I suppose it’s not that important. But Aria, I wouldn’t say I’m that well-traveled. The only place I stayed for more than a few weeks was Titan’s Pass. Even if I’ve been further, you two have surely come to know the basin better than I ever will.”
“Perhaps,” Aria admitted, “but nonetheless, I am still envious.”
“It has been a fun journey,” Kei admitted. “I’m looking forward to returning home, but I find myself anxious too. I’ve… changed, since I left. Do the two of you visit home often?”
As soon as the question left her lips, Kei realized she’d committed a faux pas, as each of their faces darkened. When they didn’t answer right away, she tried to apologize.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was a sore subject. Is your family—”
“No, it’s fine,” Bruno shook his head and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We grew up in Vuno-Niwt, you see?”
“Ah.”
Kei grimaced, of course, that city was a part of the central basin too, though it was easy to forget. She stumbled for the words, though she couldn’t find them.
“This story of ours, our earliest days, began in that shit-hole, born we as slaves.” Bruno looked ahead as he said the words, as though he was reciting them from memory.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up…”
Aria shook her head. “You didn’t know.” For once though, the gentle girl’s eyes burned with fury.
“Then, you escaped?”
“We bought our freedom,” Bruno replied. “Aria’s voice dragged us from that starless place, and we ended up here. Let that be all that is said.”
“Of course,” Kei looked around for a change of subject. “Oh, perhaps we could get kebabs? I’m famished.”
Bruno’s smile returned, if faintly, and he looked towards the stall she’d spotted. “A fine idea, I find myself hungry as well. You two enjoy yourselves, I’ll wait in line!”
He rushed over towards the vendor, leaving Kei and Aria to wander the plaza together.
The sun slowly fell lower.
***
“...The Cult of the Old God.” Eryndor’s words still hung in the air, much like the smoke curling up from the ruined boathouse.
Corrin had never heard the name before, but it didn’t sound pleasant, and his thoughts were confirmed when Luscien sucked in a sharp breath upon hearing them.
“Are you sure sir?” he asked.
“I’m positive,” Eryndor nodded, his expression grim.
“Back up a second,” Corrin said. “The Cult of the Old God? Who are they?”
“An organization which worships the god they believe ruled during the eternal night,” Luscien explained. “They’ve been around for centuries, popping up and causing damage all over the continent.”
“A god ruled during the eternal night? Wasn’t it just… I don’t know, chaos and monsters? Or are they talking about Gilgamesh?”
“Not according to them. They believe that a single being ruled over those times, the primeval ancestor of all monsters—or so I’ve heard.”
“That just sounds like Gilgamesh,” Corrin said dryly.
“Well, they don’t call themselves the ‘Church of Gilgamesh’. Truthfully, your guess would be as good as mine.” Luscien shook his head. “Maybe it’s The Titan, maybe it’s something else. I’m not an expert on the history or their creed. Nor do I really want to be, they’re a group of deranged lunatics.”
“Dangerous deranged lunatics!” Eryndor cheerfully clarified. “They were quiet during the war, useful even. Intelligence suggests they were behind the most successful organized resistance efforts in Nladian-occupied cities. Since it’s ended though, they’ve become more active, striking out of nowhere and disappearing just the same. It’s a big continent, and they’re hard to pin down. The Edrian crown has what it considers a shortlist of threats to the kingdom, and they rank third on that list. They are not to be underestimated.
“Still, trying to poison the spirit tree? This is big, even for them, and considering the circumstances they’ve come close to succeeding. I can’t even imagine what kind of toxin could harm Haoma. It is by no means an ordinary tree—no mortal poison should have any effect, and yet this one clearly is.”
Corrin fidgeted with the pommel of his sword. “What do they even want? Why poison the tree?”
Eryndor’s eyes grew distant for a moment. “I can only guess, but the only motive I can conjure wouldn’t require their methods.”
“And what motive is that?”
“I’m afraid there are some secrets I am not allowed to share, especially not for a theory. But suffice it to say, we do not wish for them to reach the sanctum.”
Corrin crossed his arms. “That’s not—”
“What’s our next move then?” Luscien interrupted.
Corrin glared at him, annoyed, but Luscien just ignored him.
Eryndor gestured for them to follow, and stepped outside the boathouse. Thankfully the stifling smell of smoke abated once they were outside, and Corrin took a deep breath. Even still, he couldn't take in too much mana with it, the fire aspect in the environment was too thick.
Eryndor pointed upwards, towards the treetop. “I was able to get some information from my sources, and combined with what we’ve already experienced, I’ll be raiding the Ecclesterion. For one, I believe it may be the home of the sanctum, and for two, I believe it to be the cult’s base of operations, assuming they’ve quietly usurped the Ecclesia.”
“Then let’s get going.” Corrin started forward, but Eryndor caught his arm.
“No. You two will stay behind.”
“Sir?”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Corrin protested. “After all this?”
The spirit knight shook his head. “It will be too dangerous. The two of you should find Wyn and return to my estate. You can wait there for my return.”
“No way! I’m coming with you! If there’s going to be a fight, I want in.”
“Sir, surely having backup would be beneficial?”
Eryndor looked between the two of them, and Corrin set his stance. He’d frozen at the camp, but he wouldn’t again. He’d prove it.
“I’m coming,” he said definitively. “You’ll have to force me not to.”
Luscien pushed up his glasses, his own eyes steady. “I would appreciate it if you would bring us along. Kita will help us avoid an ambush as well.”
“It’s not a matter of—” Eryndor sighed. “Your enthusiasm does you credit. But you must promise me two things. Firstly, you’ll follow my orders to the letter. And secondly, if I say run, you run, no questions asked. If our enemies have forces as dangerous as you suggested to me earlier, then I cannot fight them while worrying about the two of you behind me.”
“Deal.” Corrin nodded.
“Then let’s get moving.”
The knight turned, his cape fanning out behind him. And the three men marched towards whatever awaited them at the top.
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