Chapter 77…………………………
Izeph returned to his chamber in the detached palace that had been prepared for the contestants.
He was utterly exhausted from spending the entire previous day hiking, so he intended to quietly wash and then relieve his fatigue through prayer. The holy power accumulated through a priest’s prayers had, thankfully, the effect of purifying the body as well. It was not as effective as when used on others, but the healing power of holiness remained, so priests were rarely afflicted by illness.
Among the priests of Graham, Izeph was one whose innate holy power was particularly strong.
Not all priests possessed holy power, but those who were born with it usually chose the priesthood. In Graham, the sacred nation, becoming a priest was virtually the same as a rise in social status.
Izeph’s life had become much easier after his holy power first manifested in childhood, and he could even support his family, which gave him a deep sense of fulfillment. Serving God suited his disposition, and the fact that he could serve the Holy Sovereign and the Great Sage was an immense honor to him. Since becoming the High Priest of the Grand Cathedral, his household had become stable enough to live comfortably without his constant aid.
Everything, to him, was a blessing.
And naturally, he believed all of it to be the grace of God.
He regarded Graham’s Holy Sovereign as an existence no different from God, and that was what he had been taught. Thus, inevitably, he also held profound gratitude toward Gregorian.
But now, Izeph no longer served or waited upon the God he had always believed in.
God was still the object of his faith, and he remained convinced that he was but a small fragment of the divine plan. Yet direct service to God was no longer his calling.
For another person had taken root in his heart.
He had broken the vow to serve only God, and had instead devoted himself to another.
“……”
Izeph let the water he had drawn earlier trickle over his hands.
Kneeling, he pressed his palms together toward the direction of Graham’s Grand Cathedral. Before him was a newly prepared cup of water. With a devout heart, he prayed over it.
If his prayer was sincere, the water would transform into holy water.
“O Great and Majestic Lord of all creation. I bow to Your holy will and the plan You have set. By Your almighty power, look upon us, Your children…”
The Lord of all creation makes plans.
The purpose of all creation was to follow that will.
What humans commonly called fate was, in truth, the will of God.
“What is my purpose?”
For over twenty years as a priest, Izeph had asked himself this question.
The answer he reached on his own was that his purpose was to heal the lives granted by God, and in so doing spread His will.
To cherish life given by God and to heal it—that was the way to repay Him.
Believing this, he was convinced of his purpose and devoted himself to the priesthood.
All life was a gift from God, Izeph believed. Thus, repaying Roziana—the one who had saved his own life as a fellow human—was also a way of following God’s will.
“…and grant that we may act according to the path You lead us upon.”
His God had created the heavens and the earth, had determined all whom one would meet, and had already set their beginnings and ends.
Therefore, his meeting with Princess Roziana, and the fact that in saving her he had in turn been saved by her, was to Izeph part of God’s plan and providence.
Whether serving God directly as a priest, or serving Him in his heart at the Princess’s side—
To Izeph, both were paths of following the divine will. The difference lay only in whether the path was greater or lesser.
Izeph was pure, deeply devout, and though naïve, firm in his convictions.
Thus, even if anyone had tried to dissuade him, he would not have reversed his decision to remain at Roziana’s side and repay his debt. In time, that path would have led him to Secret Fog regardless.
Then…
“What I saw on the mountain today—was that also part of God’s plan?”
Izeph slowly lifted his closed eyes.
When Asterios returned, he intended to confide honestly about what he had witnessed in the mountains. Among those he knew, Asterios seemed the most selfless toward Princess Roziana.
Izeph was aware that Asterios had once concealed part of his identity from the Princess, but when Asterios risked his life to rescue Roziana from the Demon Realm, Izeph realized that he was not so different from himself—and thus came to trust him.
The meaning was clear: anyone who could end up so battered for the Princess’s sake had revealed his heart.
“…Thus prays Izeph, son of Saint Gregorian.”
Finishing the last words of his prayer, Izeph raised his hands briefly to his forehead before straightening his posture—this was the customary closing gesture.
Then, alone, he sat quietly, poured tea from the pot on the table, and recalled what had transpired on the mountain.
Drip. In the still room, only the sound of the tea flowing echoed softly.
“Lord, let me not fall into temptation…”
Murmuring as he gazed into the reflection of his own face in the tea, Izeph remembered the night before.
The climb had gone smoothly; he had managed to reach near the summit without issue.
When traversing deep mountains, the safest way was simply to move upward cautiously, relying on a torch for light.
Any path leading upward would eventually connect to the summit, though the distance remaining was unknowable until halfway up the mountain. It was especially uncertain because he had begun his climb in the dark of night.
When the starry night sky finally became visible, it meant the summit was near. Using the glimpses of stars between the rocks and trees as guideposts, Izeph climbed.
After about three hours, the dark sky, scattered with stars, began to open up between the rocks and trees, and the air felt crisp—evidence that he had climbed quite high.
“So easy… Wasn’t this called the Mountain of Illusions?”
Strangely, the ascent had gone so smoothly, as though under divine protection, that he wondered if he was perhaps trapped in an illusion instead.
No signs of anyone else nearby—could it be that he was the fastest climber? As he pondered this—at that very moment—
A strange phenomenon began slowly, as if the space before his eyes split into two.
“Dizziness?”
The landscape around him wavered, and vertigo struck. He stopped, raised his hands, and stared blankly at his palms. For a fleeting instant, his hands overlapped with those of someone much larger and whiter.
“!”
Startled, he instinctively stumbled back a step. Though they were his own hands, they felt like another’s, and gooseflesh raced over him.
Calming himself, he looked again at his hands. Feeling his face and body, he confirmed it was indeed his own body, with senses intact.
“Haa…”
Shaking his head, Izeph tried to regain focus. It was natural to feel a bit dazed after climbing all night without rest.
He brought his hands together to pray, as was his habit.
“O Lord, foolish and lowly though I am, please guide me…”
Then suddenly, a voice spoke directly into his mind.
A voice he had heard before, one deeply familiar.
[Yes, pray, my child.]
“!!”
The voice struck his core, and Izeph recoiled in shock—but nothing in his surroundings had changed. No illusions. Nothing appeared different. Only the voice.
[And do not forget that you are a part of me.]
His hands trembled violently, his breath caught—but that was all. He stood frozen for a long while, but no further words came.
Only the night wind rustling through the forest, and the occasional clatter of rocks—sounds that could be made by the dozens of contestants climbing the mountain.
The voice did not return.
Izeph rubbed his face with trembling hands, drank from his water flask, and tried to calm his racing heart.
Perhaps, he thought, it was simply dizziness and ringing in the ears from climbing over three hours without rest in the dead of night. He was no prophet to receive revelations, nor even a priest anymore. There was no reason he would hear God’s voice outside a holy place, nor were there any signs that precede a divine oracle.
At that moment, he sensed someone moving quickly nearby.
“That person—!”
Even in the darkness, the luminous hair and white garments shone like the Milky Way—it was unmistakably His Holiness.
Izeph instinctively followed.
“Where could His Holiness be hurrying to?”
Could the voice he had just heard have been the Sovereign’s?
If those words had been addressed to someone else, and he had only overheard them—then it might make sense.
Wanting to confirm the truth, Izeph quietly trailed after the Holy Sovereign.
But when he drew closer, his body stiffened, frozen in place.
For in the pitch-black night, Sovereign Gregorian was not alone.
