THE LAST GODSLAYER

Chapter 2 - ECHOES BENEATH THE RAIN

Morning arrived without sunlight.

A blanket of ash-grey clouds covered the Kingdom of Asterion, leaving the city beneath a dull twilight despite the hour. The rain had finally stopped, yet no one celebrated.

Something had changed.

People who had laughed in the market yesterday now spoke in whispers.

Temple bells no longer rang their cheerful morning hymns.

Instead, armed knights patrolled every district, questioning merchants, checking travellers, and watching the crowds with unusual vigilance.

Rumours spread faster than fire.

*"The statue cried blood."*

*"A demon was seen above the Temple."*

*"The gods are angry."*

*"The end is coming."*

Every version was different.

Every version was wrong.

---

Hans stood outside Old Bram's bakery before dawn, stacking fresh loaves onto a wooden cart.

The old baker emerged carrying another basket.

"You were early."

"I couldn't sleep."

Bram nodded.

"I didn't either."

For a while they worked in silence.

The familiar routine usually brought comfort.

Today it didn't.

Hans finally spoke.

"The bells yesterday..."

Old Bram stopped tying a sack of flour.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask."

"You knew what they meant."

The old man looked toward the distant silhouette of the Grand Temple.

"I knew what they used to mean."

"What's the difference?"

"The Temple stopped using those bells before you were born."

"So why ring them now?"

Bram hesitated.

His hands tightened around the rope he was holding.

"When I was a boy..."

"...those bells were only rung when something happened that threatened the Kingdom itself."

Hans frowned.

"A war?"

"Worse."

"What could be worse?"

The old baker didn't answer.

Instead, he placed another basket onto the cart and quietly changed the subject.

"You'll be late."

Hans recognised the evasion.

He had seen it before.

Adults often stopped talking the moment their stories reached certain places.

His grandmother had done the same.

Questions about his parents.

Questions about the Temple.

Questions about the mountains north of the kingdom.

She had always smiled sadly and said,

*"Not yet."*

Hans had hated those words.

Now...

He wondered if she had been protecting him.

---

The streets leading to the Temple were busier than usual.

Soldiers from the Royal Army stood beside Temple Knights for the first time anyone could remember.

Their expressions were tense.

Every cart entering the district was searched.

Every visitor questioned.

When Hans reached the main staircase, two unfamiliar knights blocked his path.

"Halt."

Hans lowered the delivery pole from his shoulders.

"Morning delivery."

One knight searched the baskets while the other studied a parchment.

"Name?"

"Hans."

The knight's eyes flicked up.

"Hans... what?"

Hans paused.

"I don't have a family name."

The knight made a small mark on the parchment.

"Occupation?"

"Delivery assistant."

"Parents?"

"I don't know."

The questions continued.

Age.

Residence.

Employer.

Routine.

Each answer was written down with meticulous care.

Only after several minutes did the knight step aside.

"You may enter."

Hans picked up the baskets again.

As he climbed the remaining stairs, he noticed something unusual.

Yesterday there had been twelve Temple Knights guarding the entrance.

Today there were more than fifty.

And every one of them looked... afraid.

Not alert.

Afraid.

---

The Grand Temple no longer felt welcoming.

Servants hurried through the halls without speaking.

Priests who normally greeted one another walked with lowered heads.

Even the incense that usually scented the corridors had been replaced by the smell of melted wax and damp stone.

Hans delivered the bread to the kitchens.

Gilbert accepted the baskets without his usual complaints.

"You came."

"I always do."

The cook grunted.

"Not everyone did."

Hans looked around.

Several familiar workers were missing.

"Where's Lena?"

"Sent home."

"Thomas?"

"Questioned."

"The twins?"

Gilbert's expression darkened.

"They disappeared."

Hans frowned.

"Disappeared?"

"No one knows where."

The cook lowered his voice.

"Keep your head down today."

Hans nodded.

"I always do."

Gilbert stared at him for a second.

"Maybe that's why you're still alive."

---

After signing the delivery ledger, Hans stepped back into the courtyard.

Workers were replacing shattered pieces of marble around the enormous statue of the God of Judgment.

The crimson crack across its left eye had been covered with white cloth.

As though hiding it would erase what had happened.

Hans stopped walking.

Something about the statue felt different.

He couldn't explain it.

It wasn't the crack.

It wasn't the repairs.

It was...

The silence.

The constant pressure he had felt beneath the statue yesterday was gone.

Completely gone.

As if whatever had been watching...

Had gone elsewhere.

"Hans."

He turned.

Father Cassian approached carrying several scrolls beneath one arm.

"You've finished your deliveries?"

"Yes."

"Walk with me."

They crossed the courtyard together.

For a while neither spoke.

Cassian eventually broke the silence.

"How long did your grandmother raise you?"

"Until I was eleven."

"You remember much about her?"

Hans smiled faintly.

"Everything."

"What kind of woman was she?"

Hans thought carefully.

"Patient."

"Stubborn."

"Kind."

"And..."

He hesitated.

"...she always acted as though she expected someone to come for us."

Cassian's footsteps slowed almost imperceptibly.

"Someone?"

"I asked her who."

"What did she say?"

Hans laughed quietly.

"'If they ever find us...'"

"...'run before they speak.'"

Cassian stopped walking altogether.

Hans noticed.

"Father?"

The priest quickly recovered.

"What else did she tell you?"

Hans searched his memory.

"Not much."

"Only strange things."

"Such as?"

"'Never kneel because someone demands it.'"

"'Judge people by what they protect.'"

"'Truth survives longer than power.'"

Cassian remained silent.

Those weren't ordinary lessons.

They sounded...

Ancient.

Almost ceremonial.

He looked at Hans with renewed interest.

"Did she ever mention your parents?"

"No."

"Your surname?"

"No."

"A black sword?"

Hans frowned.

"No."

The question itself felt oddly specific.

Cassian nodded slowly.

"I see."

Do you?

Hans wondered.

Because I don't.

---

At the end of the corridor stood a pair of enormous bronze doors.

Unlike every other entrance in the Temple, these bore no symbols of the Twelve Gods.

Only a single circle surrounded by twelve empty spaces.

Cassian noticed Hans looking.

"Have you ever wondered what's behind those doors?"

Hans answered honestly.

"Yes."

"So has everyone else."

The priest smiled.

"No one's entered in centuries."

"They're locked?"

"They're sealed."

"What's the difference?"

Cassian looked at the ancient doors.

"A lock keeps people out."

"A seal keeps something in."

Hans felt a chill despite himself.

Before he could ask another question—

A young acolyte came running down the corridor.

"Father Cassian!"

"What is it?"

"The High Priest requests your presence immediately."

Cassian frowned.

"I'm coming."

The acolyte glanced nervously at Hans before hurrying away.

Cassian sighed.

"It seems our conversation must wait."

He turned to leave.

After taking only three steps, he paused.

"Hans."

"Yes?"

"If anyone ever asks you about your grandmother..."

"...choose your answers carefully."

Hans's brow furrowed.

"Why?"

Cassian looked at him with an expression that revealed nothing.

"Because I have a feeling..."

"...someone else is already asking."

A cold breeze swept through the corridor.

The bronze doors behind Hans gave a faint metallic groan.

Not enough to open.

Just enough...

To remind anyone listening...

That whatever lay beyond them...

Was still there.

The corridor fell silent once Father Cassian disappeared around the corner.

Hans remained where he was.

His eyes lingered on the bronze doors.

A seal keeps something in.

The words echoed in his mind.

For generations, the Temple had taught that the gods protected humanity from darkness. Yet this door bore no divine symbols. No prayers. No names.

Only a circle.

And twelve empty spaces surrounding it.

It felt... unfinished.

Hans reached out instinctively.

His fingertips stopped a few inches from the cold bronze.

A strange unease settled over him.

Not fear.

Recognition.

As though his body remembered something his mind had forgotten.

He slowly lowered his hand.

"Curiosity."

A gentle voice spoke behind him.

"It has opened more graves than greed ever did."

Hans turned.

An elderly caretaker was sweeping the corridor with a straw broom.

His back was bent with age, his beard reached almost to his waist, and his faded grey robes marked him as little more than another servant.

Hans had never seen him before.

"I'm sorry."

"I was only looking."

The old man smiled.

"Everyone looks."

"They simply pretend they don't."

He continued sweeping.

His movements were slow but strangely graceful, never wasting effort.

Hans watched for a moment before asking,

"Do you know what's behind those doors?"

The caretaker chuckled.

"If I did..."

"...I'd probably sleep even less than I already do."

Hans smiled faintly.

"You work here?"

"For longer than most of these walls have been standing."

Hans blinked.

The answer made no sense.

The Temple was hundreds of years old.

The old man laughed quietly at Hans's expression.

"That was a joke."

"Oh."

"You believed me."

"It sounded like something old people would say."

The caretaker laughed harder.

"You've got a sharper tongue than most priests."

Hans shook his head.

"I didn't mean—"

"I know."

The old man leaned on his broom.

"What's your name?"

"Hans."

The caretaker's smile faded for the briefest instant.

"So..."

"...it's true."

Hans frowned.

"What is?"

The old man quickly recovered.

"Nothing."

"Just an old rumour."

Before Hans could question him further, footsteps echoed through the hall.

Three Temple Knights rounded the corner.

The caretaker resumed sweeping as though nothing had happened.

The lead knight nodded politely to Hans.

"The High Priest wishes to see you."

Hans was surprised.

"Me?"

"Immediately."

---

The High Priest's private chambers occupied the highest floor of the eastern sanctuary.

Hans had never been allowed anywhere near them.

The room itself was surprisingly modest.

No gold.

No lavish decorations.

Only shelves filled with ancient books, a fireplace, and large windows overlooking the capital.

High Priest Aurelius stood beside one of them, hands clasped behind his back.

Without turning, he spoke.

"Thank you for coming."

Hans bowed respectfully.

"You wished to see me."

"I did."

The old priest motioned toward a chair.

"Sit."

Hans hesitated.

"Are you certain?"

"Very."

He obeyed.

Aurelius poured two cups of steaming herbal tea.

He handed one to Hans.

The young man accepted it carefully.

"My grandmother used to make this."

Aurelius paused.

"Did she?"

Hans nodded after taking a sip.

"She said it helped people think more clearly."

A faint smile appeared on the High Priest's face.

"She wasn't wrong."

For several moments neither spoke.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable.

It felt... deliberate.

As though Aurelius was deciding which questions mattered most.

Finally he asked,

"Yesterday..."

"When the lightning struck the statue..."

"...did you notice anything unusual?"

Hans thought honestly.

"I felt something."

"What kind of something?"

"It disappeared too quickly."

"Try."

Hans closed his eyes, searching his memory.

"It was like..."

"...someone was watching me."

The room became very still.

"Watching?"

"Yes."

"From where?"

Hans slowly looked toward the window overlooking the courtyard.

"The statue."

Aurelius didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he quietly walked to a bookshelf and removed an old leather-bound volume.

Its cover bore no title.

He placed it on the table.

Dust rose into the air.

"This book is older than the Kingdom."

Hans looked at it curiously.

"It contains records that almost no one alive has read."

The High Priest opened it carefully.

Its pages were filled with faded illustrations and writing in a language Hans had never seen.

One drawing caught his attention immediately.

It showed twelve enormous figures surrounding countless kneeling people.

But in one corner...

A single person remained standing.

The illustration had been damaged.

Most of the figure's face was missing.

Yet one detail remained clear.

The person held a black sword.

Hans stared at it.

"I've seen this before."

Aurelius looked up sharply.

"You have?"

Hans frowned.

"I don't know where."

"I just..."

"It feels familiar."

The old priest slowly closed the book.

"I expected as much."

Hans blinked.

"You expected... what?"

Instead of answering, Aurelius asked another question.

"When you were a child..."

"...did you ever have unusual dreams?"

Hans's expression changed.

He had.

But he had never told anyone.

Every few months, the same dream returned.

A sky without stars.

A field covered in broken weapons.

Countless giants lying dead.

And somewhere far away...

A man standing alone with a black blade pointed toward heaven.

He could never see the man's face.

Only his back.

Only his loneliness.

Hans looked at the High Priest.

"How did you know?"

Aurelius's eyes softened.

"Because you're not the first person to dream it."

A knock interrupted the conversation.

Three quick taps.

Aurelius closed the ancient book immediately.

"Enter."

Father Cassian stepped inside.

His expression was grim.

"Your Holiness."

"They've arrived."

Aurelius sighed.

"So soon."

Cassian nodded.

"They refused to wait."

Hans looked between them.

"Who's arrived?"

Neither answered.

Instead...

Cassian looked directly at Hans.

"We need him moved."

Aurelius agreed immediately.

"No."

"They'll look for him there first."

"Then where?"

The High Priest's gaze slowly drifted toward the city outside the window.

"There is only one place left."

Hans frowned.

"I don't understand."

Aurelius turned to him.

"You don't need to."

"Not yet."

Those two words.

Not yet.

For the first time in years...

Hans hated them.

His grandmother had always used them.

Now the High Priest was doing the same.

Everyone seemed to know something about him.

Everyone except him.

Before he could protest—

The doors burst open.

A terrified acolyte stumbled inside.

"Your Holiness!"

"They're already inside the Temple!"

The room froze.

Aurelius spoke calmly.

"Who?"

The acolyte swallowed.

His voice barely rose above a whisper.

"...The White Inquisitors."

The colour drained from Cassian's face.

Even Aurelius closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Hans had never heard that name before.

Yet judging by their expressions...

He was certain of one thing.

Whoever the White Inquisitors were...

They hadn't come to pray.

The room became so quiet that Hans could hear the fire crackling behind him.

The young acolyte remained kneeling by the doorway, breathing heavily from his sprint through the Temple.

No one spoke.

Hans looked from Father Cassian to High Priest Aurelius.

Both men wore expressions he had never seen before.

Not fear.

Not exactly.

Respect.

The kind of respect given to something capable of ending lives with a single decision.

Finally, Aurelius broke the silence.

"How many?"

The acolyte swallowed.

"Seven."

Cassian exhaled slowly.

"So they sent a full tribunal..."

Hans frowned.

"What is a White Inquisitor?"

Neither priest answered immediately.

Instead, Aurelius closed the ancient book and carefully returned it to the shelf.

Only after the book had disappeared behind dozens of others did he turn back to Hans.

"They are not priests."

"They are not knights."

"They answer to no kingdom."

Hans listened quietly.

"They exist for only one purpose."

"To investigate anything the Temple believes impossible."

The words settled heavily in the room.

Hans considered them.

"If something impossible happened yesterday..."

"...they came because of the statue."

Cassian's eyes met his.

"Among other things."

The answer confirmed what Hans had begun to suspect.

They weren't here for the statue alone.

They were looking for someone.

---

Outside...

The sound of measured footsteps echoed through the Temple's entrance hall.

Not hurried.

Not slow.

Perfectly even.

Seven figures dressed in white cloaks entered the Grand Temple.

Unlike ordinary priests, none wore symbols of the Twelve Gods.

Only a silver circle stitched over the left side of each cloak.

Their faces were hidden behind smooth porcelain masks.

No mouths.

No expressions.

Only narrow openings for their eyes.

Temple Knights lining the hall instinctively stepped aside.

Even Garrick lowered his head.

The figure leading the group stopped in the centre of the entrance hall.

Without raising his voice, he spoke.

"We seek the High Priest."

A servant hurried away immediately.

No one dared ask questions.

---

Inside the chamber, Aurelius looked toward Cassian.

"Take Hans through the eastern passage."

Cassian nodded once.

Hans stood.

"I'm not running."

"No."

Aurelius agreed.

"You're walking."

"There is a difference."

Hans remained still.

"Why?"

The High Priest smiled sadly.

"Because some people mistake patience for cowardice."

"And others mistake caution for wisdom."

"I would rather you survive long enough to learn which is which."

Hans searched the old man's face.

There was no deception.

Only urgency.

At last...

He nodded.

"I'll trust you."

Aurelius inclined his head.

"Thank you."

As Hans reached the door, the High Priest called after him.

"Hans."

He turned.

"If anyone asks..."

"...tell the truth."

Hans blinked.

"I thought you wanted me to choose my answers carefully."

"I do."

The old priest smiled faintly.

"But careful truths are still truths."

It wasn't much of an explanation.

Yet somehow...

Hans understood.

---

Father Cassian led him through a narrow corridor hidden behind one of the bookcases.

The passage was surprisingly old.

The stone walls were rough and uneven, unlike the polished marble of the Temple above.

Water dripped from the ceiling.

Small lanterns burned with pale blue flames.

"You seem surprised."

Cassian spoke while walking.

"I didn't know this place existed."

"Very few people do."

"Where does it lead?"

"A library."

Hans looked around.

"This doesn't feel like a library."

Cassian almost smiled.

"It isn't."

"It leads to one."

The passage twisted several times before opening into an enormous underground chamber.

Hans stopped.

Books.

Thousands of them.

Shelves stretched farther than he could see.

Ancient scrolls filled entire walls.

Massive globes depicted unfamiliar continents.

Maps hung from the ceiling.

Some were so old their ink had almost disappeared.

The air smelled of dust, leather, and time itself.

"This..."

Hans whispered.

"...is incredible."

Cassian watched his reaction carefully.

"Most people ask how much these books are worth."

"You don't."

Hans slowly walked between the shelves.

"They're priceless."

The priest smiled.

"Exactly."

---

Far above...

The White Inquisitors entered Aurelius' private chamber.

The lead Inquisitor removed neither mask nor gloves.

He simply stood before the High Priest.

"Your Holiness."

"Commander."

Aurelius answered calmly.

"You arrived sooner than expected."

"The signs accelerated."

"So I noticed."

For a moment...

Neither man spoke.

Finally, the Commander asked,

"Has anyone touched the Forgotten Seal?"

Aurelius answered without hesitation.

"No."

It was true.

Hans had touched the statue.

Not the seal beneath it.

The Commander studied him for several seconds.

"You've always been an honest man."

"I try."

"Then you'll understand why we must search the Temple."

Aurelius nodded.

"You'll find no resistance."

---

Underground...

Hans stopped before a display case unlike the others.

Inside rested an old journal.

Its leather cover had almost completely rotted away.

The title had faded beyond recognition.

Yet one thing remained visible.

A single symbol burned into the centre of the cover.

A black sword.

Hans stared at it.

A sharp ache spread through his chest.

Not pain.

Recognition.

The same feeling he'd experienced before the faceless statue.

Without thinking...

He reached toward the glass.

The instant his fingertips touched it—

A pulse echoed through the chamber.

Every lantern flickered.

The maps rustled though there was no wind.

Several ancient books fell from nearby shelves.

Cassian spun around.

"Hans!"

Hans jerked his hand back.

"I..."

"I didn't..."

The priest hurried over.

"Did you touch it?"

"Only the glass."

Cassian looked at the display case.

There wasn't a single mark on it.

Yet...

The journal inside had moved.

Only slightly.

But enough that its position had changed.

That should have been impossible.

No one had opened the case in over a century.

Cassian slowly looked at Hans.

Then at the journal.

Then back again.

Before either could speak—

One of the lanterns exploded.

Darkness swallowed half the chamber.

A cold voice echoed from the entrance.

"So..."

"We finally found it."

Hans and Cassian turned simultaneously.

At the top of the stone staircase stood three figures dressed in white cloaks.

Porcelain masks concealed their faces.

Their silver insignias gleamed in the lantern light.

One of them looked directly at Hans.

Though his face was hidden...

Hans felt as though those unseen eyes were examining every heartbeat.

The masked figure spoke again.

Not to Cassian.

Not to the room.

Only to Hans.

"You don't know who you are..."

"...do you?"

Hans remained silent.

The Inquisitor tilted his head.

"No."

"You couldn't."

"Not after they erased everything."

Cassian stepped in front of Hans.

"You have no authority here."

The Inquisitor calmly produced a sealed scroll bearing the royal crest and the symbol of the Twelve Gods.

"We have authority everywhere."

He lowered the scroll.

"Our orders are simple."

"Find the last surviving descendant..."

"...of the Godslayer Clan."

Silence crashed over the library.

Hans felt his heartbeat quicken.

Not because of what the Inquisitor had said.

Because, somewhere deep beneath the Temple...

Something answered.

**Thump.**

The sound was impossibly deep.

Like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant.

No one else seemed to hear it.

But Hans did.

And for the first time in his life...

He had the terrifying certainty that the sound...

Was calling his name.