Chapter 305: Champion Of The Errant Heretic

That loud declaration brought a lot of the fleeing Anaelle to halt. Many of them stopped and hesitantly looked at the figure standing on the head of that… massive walking calamity of a wolf.

In fact, it was only now that they noticed someone standing there in the first place. Seeing something as massive and as terrifyingly domineering as Syf would make anyone forget to pay attention to any detail they usually did. All that was on their minds were thoughts of escape and survival.

All except for one, that is…

“I have come to liberate you from this prison of yours!!”

Finn continued to declare, and at the same time, continued to note those that had the capability to move despite being in Syf’s presence.

And among those he noted, he singled out a particular Anaelle that caught his attention.

It was a young fellow, perhaps no older than eighteen — if Finn were to judge how old he looked by human standards.

Unlike the other Anaelle who were either running or rooted on the spot unable to move in fear, this Anaelle did the opposite. Slowly, but very purposefully, he inched towards Syf instead.

And his eyes… his eyes weren’t fearful or frantic, rather, they shone with an eagerness and excitement that Finn was very much surprised to see. Though he didn’t allow that to show in his face. In fact, he didn’t so much as glance at the young Anaelle after that first observation.

He continued to speak, watching as more and more of the Anaelle finally slowed and seemed to calm down to hear what he had to say — helped mostly by Syf also reining her passive aura as much as she could.

“Many of you should recognize me as the human that washed up on your shores weeks ago,” Finn said, lowering his overly dramatic, spread-out arms as he now addressed them normally. Though his lazy smile still played on his lips.

“I understand you all have differing opinions of who I am. Some of you think of me as the Pioneer. The one prophesied to forge the way out of this island for all of you…” he paused and observed their varying reactions cursorily. “Others are of a differing opinion. You call me a fallen. One destined to bring doom to all of you.”

A heavy silence reigned as all attention was on Finn now, fully focused.

Finn grinned wider.

“But I will tell you this now. I am neither of those. But I can be either… It all depends on you all.”

“In three days, I will cross the Stagnant Sea and begin my quest for retribution on my enemies.” He raised a hand and pointed towards the direction of the sky-touching, frozen wave of time in the distance.

“Whether you get to cross this barrier with me is a choice I leave entirely in your own hands. I can be the savior you have prayed for, or I can be the one who locks these gates and damns you to stay here until the end of time,” he shrugged.

“Honestly, I am fine with either path. My interest in your welfare is secondary to my own goals, so do not think for a second that I will beg for your loyalty.”

The silence that followed was absolute. It was the kind of quiet that made the sound of Syf’s low, rhythmic breathing feel like the rolling of distant thunder. The Anaelle stood like statues, their white fur-like hair matted with the dust kicked up by the Storm Prowler’s arrival. Many of them looked at the ground, unable to meet Finn’s gaze, while others looked at the broken gates with a hollow sense of loss.

That was until the young Anaelle Finn had noted earlier took another step. He didn’t just inch forward this time; he moved with a deliberate step that drew the eyes of every elder and warrior in the vicinity. He stopped just outside the shadow cast by Syf’s massive head, looking up at the small figure of the human standing high above.

“What needs to be done?” the boy asked. His voice was steady, lacking the tremor that plagued the older members of his race.

Finn didn’t respond immediately. He looked down, his lazy grin remaining fixed, but his eyes were sharp as they assessed the Anaelle. He didn’t see a person who wanted to lament their situation or offer an opinion on the Pioneer prophecy. He didn’t see the doubt that characterized the majority who viewed him as a fallen or a doom-bringer…

Instead, he saw a question grounded in the harsh reality of their circumstances. The young Anaelle knew that Finn hadn’t come here to deliver a sermon for free. A stranger with enough power to control a walking calamity and enough confidence to promise a crossing of the Stagnant Sea would not waste his time on idle talk.

For Finn to be speaking to them of all these things, it was because he wanted something in return.

Finn looked the boy straight in the eye, and a quiet confirmation settled in his mind. He hadn’t been wrong about this one. What he saw in those eyes was curiosity… the one force of nature that was impossible to suppress.

This boy didn’t care about the legends of the past or the fears of the present. He wanted to know what lay beyond the island. He wanted to see what existed past that impossible, towering wave of frozen time that had restricted his people like cattle for generations.

While the others were burning with wariness or defiance, this boy was burning with an eager hunger to explore. It was an expression that intrigued Finn immensely.

“What is your name?” Finn asked.

“Cordoza,” the boy replied, standing as tall as his frame allowed. “Cordo, for short.”

Finn nodded slowly, acknowledging the name.

“Cordoza. You have been appointed as my Champion among the Anaelle race. You are now the divine champion of the Errant. I am the ruler of the flaws in systems and the cracks between spaces. I am the holder of the authority of Error. I am the slayer of Gods and Divines. You serve me, Finn, the Errant Heretic.”

The introduction sent a shockwave through the crowd. The whispers that had started to rise when Cordoza stepped forward were hushed instantly. The titles Finn had claimed were heavy, sounding more like ancient curses than simple names. Slayer of Gods? The Errant Heretic? Those titles were a declaration of war against the very concept of the divine!

A new gleam appeared in the eyes of the Anaelle. It was a strange, sudden light, as if Finn’s words had called out to a part of their nature they had forgotten.

Far below, near Syf’s massive paws, Osmund stood with a stunned expression. He had known Finn was powerful, but this was different. He had never heard Finn speak of himself with such grand, terrifying titles.

Champion? Authority of Error? Osmund’s mind raced through the flashes of memories he had received from his own fragment over the years. He knew some of the history of the Space Transcendent, especially related to the Gods the Transcendents had faced. Yet he had never heard of an authority called ’Error’.

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