Chapter 281: Good and Evil.

Rising from where he was seated, Arthur unbuckled his sword and sheath from his waist and dropped it down onto the tree root with a casual thunk. The blade was worth three thousand gold coins and yet he seemed to handle it with the same care one might show toward a stick picked up from the forest floor.

He walked a few steps forward before turning around to face Nero, his expression shifting into something a bit more serious. The facade of the playful nobleman had vanished, replaced by an air of mystery. One that inspired intrigue.

“Magic does not have morality,” was the first thing he said.

Nero looked at him in confusion, his brow furrowing. What did morality have to do with whatever Arthur was about to show him?

Arthur cleared his throat then continued, “The wisdom of the old gods is said to be the origins of the corruption. However, surely that cannot be the case. What the old gods taught was magic and sorcery. It was meant to improve the lives of us mortal beings, wasn’t it? They taught us how to harness fire. They taught us medicine and how to read the stars. They taught us metallurgy and so much more. And yet, such a thing is the root of all evill? I believe the situation is far more nuanced than that. But let’s not jump into my personal philosophies…”

He slowly brought his palm up and spoke with a mellow voice as Nero watched with bated breath.

There was something hypnotic about the slowness of Arthur’s movements.

Then his lips moved,

“Hazai.”

Nero felt the instant movement of energy surrounding Arthur, and his breath caught in his throat.

It was soft as a wisp of morning candlelight before the day breaks, gentle and almost tender in its manifestation. But it was there. And he could feel it very clearly, like a current of warmth moving through the air.

The sensation was nothing like the violent surge of corrupted Ein Sof one would experience when consuming Abomination flesh, or the cold weight of the Mark of Mephistopheles when it drained his reserves.

This was… refined and controlled, shaped by will and word into something of manifested phenomena.

Nero watched as a gust of flame burst out of Arthur’s palm, his eyes widening with wonder despite himself. The fire danced and writhed in the air, responding to some unspoken command, and for a moment it was small and contained, no larger than the flame from a hearth.

He thought to himself, ’Is it like the flame Bishop used?’

Then he slowly shook his head as realization dawned. ’No. It’s not the same. The incantation Bishop used was “Shemhazai”. If that is the case, then…’

His eyes widened as he watched the gust of flames transform before him, growing and intensifying with each passing second. The small fire became a brilliant blazing pillar of immolating heat that gushed forth at a nearby tree, striking it with devastating force.

The wood ignited, the bark blackening and peeling away in seconds as the flames consumed it with voracious hunger. Within moments, nothing remained but cinders and ash, the tree reduced to a smoldering skeleton that collapsed in on itself.

The heat washed over Nero’s face even from several feet away, and he could smell the acrid scent of burned wood mixing in the air.

“That is magic, Nero,” Arthur said with a proud smile on his face, his dark eyes reflecting the dying embers of his conjured flame.

“Are you trying to burn the entire damned forest to the ground, you bastard?! What if your ruckus draws the attention of some vile creature from Malady’s depths?!” Jacob growled at Arthur, but the young lord did not pay him any mind.

Instead, his gaze was fixed on Nero.

“The name of fire is ’Hazai’. It is represented by the runes of ’heat’ and ’destruction’. It is a dangerous tool, one that can be used to eradicate life…”

His expression turned serious,

“But it is also used to warm. To drive the cold away and to nurture life. It breeds both chaos and life. It is neither good nor evil.”

He took a step closer, his voice dropping,

“The same goes with the corruption. I do not believe it is fundamentally evil. Perhaps it is our misunderstanding of the element from which it spews forth.”

A sudden rush of bloodlust and terror instantly cut their conversation short, and Nero felt his entire body lock up as if paralyzed. Complete and utter fear flooded through him. It was raw and overwhelming, the kind of terror that struck directly at the soul.

His breath caught in his throat, and for a horrifying moment he couldn’t do anything but stand frozen like a rabbit that had spotted a wolf.

Nero’s eyes widened when he realized he was completely transfixed to the spot by nothing more than the pressure of another’s presence. This was what it felt like to be beneath the aura of a Templar, to be so utterly outmatched that the body simply gives up any pretense of resistance.

“Anything you say after this can be considered blasphemy, young Lord. Choose your next words wisely so I do not have the displeasure of sending only your head back to your father.” Sergeant Aldric’s voice was as cold as winter’s frost, and the easy boredom that had characterized his demeanor until now had vanished completely.

The Templar stood twenty feet away, but it felt like he was breathing down their necks. His posture hadn’t changed, his hand wasn’t on his weapon, but the threat radiating from him was absolute.

Arthur smiled softly and shrugged, and Nero marveled at how well the young lord had mastered his ability to control his physical expressions.

“I apologize. I will mind my words next time.”

The Sergeant’s eyes narrowed,

“Your mission here is not to dally or have chats. You lot have been busy prancing around and neglecting the basics of your training.”

Then he turned to Nero,

“Curiosity is poison. If you want to learn the arts of sorcery and doctrines, go join the damned prophets and let your madness be on their heads. Right now, you are warriors, not a bunch of wuss scholars on a tea break. Do I make myself clear?!”

The three young men shifted uncomfortably, and Nero felt sweat beginning to bead on his forehead despite the cool forest air.

Seeing this, the Sergeant nodded with grim satisfaction.

Hopefully, the message had been received and understood. The invisible leash had been yanked, and they had all felt the collar tighten.

“Continue.”

The word was a dismissal and a command all at once.

Continue the hunt, continue the mission.

Continue being the obedient tools the Church was shaping you to be.

Do not question the nature of the forge.

You shall speak nothing of it.

That is what the word meant.

The pressure vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, and Nero nearly stumbled as his muscles relaxed.

He sucked in a chilly breath, suddenly aware that he’d been subconscious holding his breath for quite some time now.

Arthur retrieved his sword from the tree root with steady movements. Then he buckled it back onto his waist carefully. Jacob had gone quiet, his gaze unreadable as all his earlier mirth evaporated like morning dew under a harsh sun.

None of them spoke as they gathered their equipment and prepared to move deeper into the Thornwood.

But Nero’s mind was racing, turning over Arthur’s words again and again. It was not the words that made him think.

Rather, it was who said those words that made his mind churn.

He had expected that the children of the noble houses to have undergone severe indoctrination and would be even less likely to question the church as they benefitted from the current state of the world the most.

And yet, from what he had heard from Arthur, that was not the case whatsoever.

In fact, perhaps it was the furthest thing from the truth…

’The more you know…’

Knowledge is a burden not fit to be borne by many, was the philosophy. The less one knew, the better. Those who knew too much would lust after even more, feeding a growing discontent.

As such, those words of Arthur were dangerous words. Heretical words. The kind of words that would get the average people dragged down below the ground and subjected to the inquisition’s tender mercies.

But Nero also believed the same.

What truly was evil?

Was it with the angels who fell? Or with the humans who caused the fall?

And if Nero himself was being transformed, reshaped by the Seals of Sin he consumed and the corruption he absorbed, did that make him evil?

What truly is evil?

What truly is good?

He didn’t have answers. But as they walked deeper into the corrupted forest, Nero found himself wondering what those answers could possibly be?

He was curious.

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