Samael glanced sideways. "Interested?"
Kivas' skewer slowly lowering as she chewed on the last of her Blood Cake. She gave a shrug and a nod at once. "Doing expeditions is something we'll have to do eventually, right? Might as well get our feet dirty with someone slightly more experienced. We're both G-grade. She's F. Could be a great time."
"Power is not the issue here," Samael considered. "But having hands-on guidance from an actual Void Hunter should be a much more authentic experience."
There was a sparkle on Azulus' eyes. "Thank you for the incredibly high praise."
Samal nodded. "We accept."
"Meet me here in six hours." Azulus said, casting some sort of spell or skill with her spare hand. "The Association projected a disruption eight hours from now. That's our window. You're free to do whatever until then."
"Alright," Kivas waved her hand. "I'll see you later then."
"Don't be late!" Azulus replied in a shout, as her body flickered in and out of existence between short distances until her real body was no longer in sight, leaving numerous afterimages of her petite figure and oversized katana.
Kivas nudged Samael. "Church?"
Samael offered a single nod. "Let's go."
Feeling slightly adventurous, they took a different, more unorthodox path this time through a less busy corridor of the bastion, until the silhouette of the church returned into view.
Its dome shimmered faintly in the light, and the soft thrum of spiritual resonance pulsed around it, as if the building itself exhaled between seconds.
Closer now, Kivas could feel a change in atmosphere. The sense of tension within her bones dulled slightly. Her breath eased. Even her lingering aches began to fade.
They crossed the open path to the front stairs. Statues stood on either side—faceless figures with outstretched arms, each one carved from different materials. One looked to be fused glass, another from porous volcanic bone, and a third entirely of thorn-wrapped copper.
Kivas looked up at the nearest one. "These are… eerie."
"They are," came a voice from behind. "The statues you see here were excavated from what is referred to as the Quiet Basilica."
Kivas turned to see the tall woman they encountered earlier—the same one who bickered with Charishe near the gates. "Ah!"
She approached without sound, robes flowing behind her in long vertical seams of ink-black cloth. Her features were sharper up close, and the scar that ran across one of her eyes had a jagged texture, as though it was made by a force that didn't understand anatomy.
"As useful as they are, they are visibly unpleasant," Samael commented.
"Unpleasant up close, yes, but they're soaked in passive restorative energy. Stand near them long enough and they ease bodily stress." Lyenar offered a small bow. Even stooped, her height made it feel performative more than respectful. "My apologies for appearing so suddenly."
Kivas studied the statue again, noticing how the mist around it pulled gently inward, like it inhaled the surrounding air. "Quite the introduction for first-impression."
"They're sacred anomalies," Lyenar said. "Sometimes the old world gives us gifts, whether we deserve them or not." She then brought a closed hand to her chest. "Lyenar. One of the priests, and an acting anchor of this church. I assume you are the new Vagabond that comes to the bastion?"
"Kivas Chariot," Kivas offered. "We just got here today!"
"Samael," came the clipped reply from her side.
Lyenar's eyes lingered briefly on Samael's gaze, as if assessing something deeper beneath the name. Then she shifted to Kivas. "And you are here for…"
"I want to level up my Priest class," Kivas said plainly.
"Straightforward." Lyenar turned and gestured for them to follow. "Come, then."
They walked past the front hall into a garden path.
It was larger than it appeared from the outside, wrapped in curved hedges marked with whisper-thin glyphs. The inner architecture extended deeper than its physical layout suggested, bending interior space like a shell with hidden chambers.
Kivas glanced around as they moved through corridors and gentle ramps. "This place is bigger than the outside."
"Space-folded Structure," Lyenar replied. "A technique used when consecrating space. The interior grows in accordance with the accumulated resonance that people pour into this place.
"While not exactly faith-imbued, the same concept can be seen in many buildings in this bastion, most prominently, the inn."
Priests passed them occasionally—some in armor, some in robes, others in barely-there wrappings dyed with celestial ink.
No two outfits matched. Some bore masks, others exposed their faces. Their faiths all thrummed differently.
"There's no uniform?" Kivas asked.
"There's no doctrine, to be precise," Lyenar said over her shoulder. "Only the role."
They arrived at a chamber shaped like a fan, with walls lined in relics: rosaries, staves, broken shields, feathered charms, and emblem-etched disks suspended in transparent fields.
It was as if showcasing the diversity of belief shimmered across cultures, eras, and worlds.
"Woaah," Kivas awed quietly.
In the center of the room stood a single figure.
He was massive—broad across the chest, twice the width of any man, and his skin was slate-grey and smooth like polished stone.
Where a face should have been, there was a wide vertical mouth, permanently agape. Within that mouth, another face resided—human-shaped, but serene, unmoving.
He sat within a circle of nine glyphs etched into the floor. They pulsed slowly, syncing with his breath.
"This is Goliath," Lyenar announced. "He crafts resonance catalysts."
"Resonance catalyst?"
Goliath didn't move, but the inner face within the mouth opened its eyes.
"I see a seeking soul," he said in a voice that echoed slightly without bouncing. "Which one of you requires the catalyst?"
His gaze moved to Samael.
Samael stepped aside slightly. "Not me. Her."
Kivas lifted a hand. "Hi. Yeah. Me."
Goliath inclined his enormous head once. The mouth did not move. Only the internal face showed expression.
Lyenar stepped into the light of the glyphs. "Priest classes grow through resonance. This resonance can be anything, whether it is oneself with Fathomi, oneself with Fathomi's inhabitants, or even oneself with a non-existing concept.
"That resonance however, must align with your beliefs—what you find sacred, what you define as purpose. It can be anything. Kindness, vengeance, protection, healing, punishment, beauty, death, order, entropy."
"I see," Kivas nodded in contemplation. "You're simply making your own personal religion to abide by."
"In a sense," Samael chuckled, amused by what she was seeing.
"But that belief must be concentrated," Lyenar continued. "And to concentrate a will into a resonance, a mind needs an anchor. A lens to pour through." She turned toward Goliath. "That is the purpose of the resonance catalyst."
All of the objects displayed in this chamber turned out to be the resonance catalysts, all of the objects that were used to attune oneself to the core of their belief.