Chương 33: Chapter 29 - The Church of the First Breath

As the two of them walked back toward the Himalayas Inn, Torou spoke up.

"You should go first. I want to explore this place more. It seems too wasteful to just wait around." Luan glanced at him.

"Explore? Just make sure you will come back early."

"Yeah." Torou looked around at the streets.

"We've already handled what we came here for. Waiting in the inn for several hours won't teach me anything about the city." Luan considered it for a moment, then shrugged.

"Well... yeah, sure. Just come back later. Tell the owner or one of the staff what room I'm staying, and knock on the door when you return."

"Got it." Torou nodded and watched Luan continue toward the inn before turning his own attention back to the city. There was still a considerable stretch of time before they'd hear back from the merchant, and Torou had never much cared for sitting around doing nothing. Besides, this was his first time setting foot in the Free Trade City of Beasts, and if he was going to spend several hours here regardless, he might as well see what kind of place it actually was....

Torou walked for quite some time, and the deeper he went, the more the city's face changed around him. The wide roads and well-maintained buildings gradually gave way behind him; the shops shrank, the walls aged, and the roads narrowed, until he found himself somewhere with more poverty than wealth. The difference was obvious at a glance. Buildings stood packed tightly together, some leaning against one another as though barely able to hold themselves up.

Wooden planks patched holes in walls where proper repairs had never come, and scraps of cloth hung in windows in place of curtains. The road itself stayed crowded the whole way through—people pushing past one another, merchants shouting over customers, children slipping between adults as they hauled baskets or darted through the alleys. Torou slowed his pace.

"So this is the other side of the city..." It wasn't exactly surprising. Any city large enough naturally held people living in entirely different conditions. What actually caught him off guard was how quickly the change happened—only a short distance separated this district from the wealthier part of the city, and yet it felt like stepping into an entirely different world. His attention was soon caught by something else: drunkards, several of them, sitting beside buildings and leaning against walls.

Some argued loudly over things Torou couldn't follow; others had already fallen asleep despite the noise around them. He looked at them for a moment, then let it go—he hadn't come here to get tangled up with drunkards, only to see for himself how different this place really was from the city's inner districts. As he continued on, someone bumped into him—a small body brushing against his side, there and gone in an instant. Torou barely registered it at first.

Then his expression changed, and his hand shot out on its own, catching a small hand before it could pull away.

"Oi, kid." The child froze. Torou looked down to find a cat-like beastman, judging by the ears poking through his messy hair and the faint feline cast to his features—his hand still reaching toward Torou's clothes, and more specifically, toward his wallet. Torou raised an eyebrow.

"Pick someone else to steal from." The child's face twisted with panic, ears flattening against his head.

"Ah... s-sorry, sir! I won't do it again." Torou tightened his grip slightly. The child looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"I-It's just... I'm hungry." Torou paused. He'd expected an excuse. But what he got instead sounded genuinely frightened. He looked the kid over more carefully this time—clothes that were little more than a worn-out shirt and shorts, the fabric rough and jagged where it had been torn and mended over and over, stains no amount of washing looked capable of lifting. The child's arms were thin. It was far too thin. Torou clicked his tongue.

"Tsk." He released the small hand.

"Give me back my wallet." The child's eyes went wide. He yanked the wallet free from his clothes and held it out with both hands.

"Here..." Torou took it.

"I'll buy you some food." The child's whole expression shifted.

"... Really?"

"Yeah." His ears perked straight up.

"Thank you, sir!"

"Don't call me sir." Torou frowned.

"I'm still young. You're making me sound old." The child blinked.

"Oh." Torou crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to eye level.

"What's your name, kid?"

"I am Hypen, sir." Torou's eyebrow twitched. He just stared until Hypen caught himself.

"Ah... young Mr.?"

"Better." Torou straightened back up.

"Alright, Hypen. Guide me to the closest food stall."

"Yes, young Mr!" Hypen nodded enthusiastically and immediately started walking, Torou falling in behind him. As they moved through the district, Hypen kept glancing back over his shoulder. Torou noticed.

"You don't need to keep looking at me."

"Sorry."

"You think I'm going to change my mind?" Hypen shook his head quickly.

"N-No."

"Then relax." Hypen nodded—and looked back once more anyway. Torou couldn't help but sigh. The kid really was wary. After several minutes, they reached a small food stall, nothing impressive: just a wooden counter beneath a patched cloth roof and a large pot simmering over a small fire, the smell of cooked rice drifting through the air. Torou ordered several rice balls and handed one to Hypen. The moment it touched his hands, Hypen started eating. Fast, he eat too fast.

Torou watched, half-fascinated, as one rice ball became two, then three, then four—by the time Torou had finished his own first one, Hypen had already gone through four of them. Torou stared at the child's empty hands.

"How are you even eating that fast?" Hypen didn't answer right away; he was still chewing. Torou shook his head.

"Eat slowly. It's not like someone's going to rob you." Hypen paused, looking down at what was left.

"Well, young Mr..."

"Hm?"

"Stealing is very common here." His voice had gone quieter.

"There are many people who are hungry." Torou glanced around, and this time he noticed things that had slipped past him before—a woman sitting beside a wall with an empty bowl in her lap, an old beastman picking through a pile of discarded vegetables, two children arguing over a single piece of bread, a man asleep under a scrap of cloth despite the afternoon heat. His expression turned thoughtful.

"Why not hunt monsters outside the city?" It seemed like the obvious answer—the wilderness beyond the walls was full of them, and surely hunting one beat stealing food from strangers. Hypen looked at him like the question itself was strange, and Torou caught his own mistake a beat too late.

"Ah." He rubbed the back of his head.

"Forget it. There are probably reasons." Hypen nodded. Torou took another bite, and after swallowing, asked, "Is there anyone here who gives food to the people?" Hypen thought about it.

"Well, there is one."

"One?"

"There's a church called the Church of the First Breath." Torou stopped eating.

"Church?"

"Yes."

"They give food?"

"Yes, usually once a week." Torou looked around again. Once a week—given how many people lived in this district, he could understand why it wasn't every day. If the church fed people constantly, the number relying on it would probably only keep growing. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Still, another question came to mind first.

"What kind of God do they worship?" Hypen tilted his head.

"You mean their Goddess?"

"Yeah." Torou had heard, in a general sort of way, that people in this world believed in gods. But hearing an actual church name, one apparently dedicated to a specific Goddess, pulled his curiosity forward for reasons that had less to do with the Goddess herself than he wanted to admit. He still hadn't told anyone, not even Luan, about the name that had come out of a dying doll's mouth back at the castle—Ani—or the way Nefari had said it, like he'd recognized something in Torou that Torou couldn't see in himself.

If gods were the kind of thing that could reach into someone's life from somewhere else entirely, the same way Mr. Unknown already did, then maybe understanding what made a god a god was the closest thing to an answer he had. He'd never bothered learning much about religion before now. This might be the first time it actually mattered.

"Can you guide me to the church?"

"Sure." Hypen finished off his last rice ball, and Torou looked him over one more time.

"You really were hungry." Hypen wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"Yes." Torou said nothing more. He simply followed him.... They walked for some time. The crowded streets gradually gave way to quiet, the buildings thinning out into patches of dried grass along the narrowing road. The sun had begun its descent, a low golden light stretching between the trees and laying long shadows across the path. Torou walked in silence, Hypen a little ahead of him, his footsteps noticeably lighter now that his stomach was full—for some reason, Torou found that small fact strangely satisfying.

Then Hypen stopped, and Torou looked up to find it waiting at the end of the road: the Church of the First Breath. Its whitewashed walls caught the last of the setting sun. It wasn't particularly grand: no towers reaching for the heavens, no golden statues, no walls dressed in precious materials, and yet there was something peaceful about it anyway.

A wooden cross rose from the roof, its silhouette cut clean against the orange sky, and two old bells hung in a small tower above, their surfaces tarnished by years of rain and wind. Torou stared at them.

"So this is the church." Hypen nodded.

"Yes." They approached the entrance together, and Hypen pushed open the heavy wooden door, its hinges groaning against long disuse. Inside, the temperature dropped at once, a stark contrast to the warm evening they'd left behind, and the smell of old wood and wax hung thick in the air.

Rows of wooden pews stretched toward the altar, their surfaces worn smooth by countless hands resting on them over the years, while colored light filtered through stained-glass windows and scattered patches of red, blue, and gold across the floor. Torou stopped just inside the door. He'd seen temples before, but this felt different, a silence here that simply didn't exist outside. Neither of them spoke. For several moments, they just stood there. Then— fwoosh.

A candle near the altar suddenly flared, its little flame trembling as the light reached farther into the darkness and caught the statue standing behind the altar: a Goddess with Her arms spread wide. The details were hard to make out in the dim light, but Her expression came through clearly enough. Calm. Almost welcoming. Torou stared at it.

"So that's their Goddess..." He couldn't explain why, but something about it felt strangely familiar. Not the statue itself, but something underneath it. Before he could chase the thought any further, the church bell tolled. Dong. Once. Torou looked toward the tower. Dong. Twice. The sound rolled through the church, its vibration settling somewhere deep in his chest, and around him, everyone lowered their heads.

Torou followed their lead, or tried to, and found a priest already kneeling at the altar, forehead pressed to the cool stone. For several seconds the priest didn't move. Then he slowly lifted his hands, and his voice rose to fill the hall.

"The Sovereign of Life. The Origin of All Vitality. The Arbiter of Evolution and Mutation. The Master of the Cycle of Flesh. The Life." The candles quivered as he spoke.

"We, who draw breath through Your grace, come before You." His voice was calm, practiced, worn smooth by repetition.

"Every beating heart within our bodies is but a reflection of Your will. Every plant that pierces the earth, every child born into this world, every being that slithers, swims, soars, and walks beneath the stars—all have come forth through Your creation." He placed a palm over his heart.

"Mother of Living Flesh, sustain what must endure." His fingers tightened slightly against his chest.

"Heal what has been harmed. Strengthen what is fragile, and return what has reached its end to the cycle." His voice softened.

"Guide our bodies as You guide the changing seasons. Transform us where we must be transformed. Purify us where we must be purified." His head lowered.

"And when our flesh can no longer bear us..." The church went utterly silent.

"... claim us back into Your embrace." He closed his eyes.

"For in You, we were born. Through You, we live." He bowed his head.

"And unto You, The Life, our flesh shall return." Silence held for a long moment. Then, softer than everything that came before it—"So let Your breath remain within us." The prayer ended. Torou stayed where he was, half-expecting something more extravagant to follow: some flash of divine light, some small miracle. Nothing happened. Somehow, that made the whole atmosphere feel stranger rather than less so.

The people around him simply stayed bowed, as though they'd just finished speaking to someone who was actually listening. Torou looked back at the statue. Do they really believe She's listening? Before he could chase the thought any further, someone approached. He turned to find an old man standing before them, eyes covered by a thin strip of cloth, blind, and yet his head turned to face Torou directly.

"Young lamb." His voice was gentle.

"Did you come to pray, or to receive teachings?" Torou hesitated.

"Ah... yes." The old man smiled faintly.

"I see."

"I'm curious about who you believe in," Torou added quickly. The old man chuckled.

"Curiosity is often where understanding begins." He turned slightly.

"Come. You may follow me." He pressed a palm to his chest.

"Glory to the Mother." Hypen followed immediately. Torou watched the old man a moment longer, then went after him.... After a while, they were led into a smaller room connected to the church, where the bishop offered them seats. Torou sat, Hypen beside him, while the blind bishop remained standing a moment longer before speaking.

"Before I begin, what are your names?"

"I am Torou."

"And I am Hypen," the boy added, with a slight bow. The bishop nodded, then took a step forward, his blind eyes somehow finding Torou directly.

"You, young man..." Torou's posture stiffened.

"You look like someone who has many questions." Torou jolted. Can he actually see? He dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it came—the man was blind, plainly so; he was probably just good at reading people. Torou made himself relax.

"Well..." He thought about where to begin. What he actually wanted to know was whether a god could feel like a voice living inside someone's own skull, but that wasn't something he could just say out loud to a stranger, blind bishop or not. So he started smaller, and let himself work up to it.

"I want to know about your God." He raised one finger.

"The history of the church." A second finger.

"And how it started." The bishop smiled.

"That is quite a few questions."

"I am curious."

"Why?" Torou paused; he didn't really have a complicated answer he could give out loud.

"I want to understand the concept of Gods. Their characteristics, or what makes one a God." He glanced at the bishop.

"And I want to know the origin of the church." The bishop brought a hand to his chin.

"Then let us begin with something simple." He tilted his head.

"What do you know about God?" Torou thought about it.

"Someone who has the qualities of a God." The bishop said nothing, waiting, so Torou went on.

"Basically, a supreme ruler of the world. Or perhaps a creator."

"A supreme ruler?"

"Or creator."

"And do you believe there is only one?" Torou hesitated, then leaned back.

"Well... I don't know." The bishop smiled.

"An honest answer." He turned toward the statue beyond the room.

"The Goddess I believe in is the sovereign over life." A pause.

"The Life." Torou's eyes narrowed slightly.

"So..." he said slowly, "does that mean there can be many Gods?" The bishop nodded.

"Yes, young man." That alone was already different from what Torou had expected.

"So Gods have domains?"

"Some do."

"And your Goddess rules over life?"

"She is not merely its ruler." The bishop's voice deepened, more solemn now.

"She is its sovereign." Torou said nothing.

"Now, what do you know about our history?" the bishop asked.

"I only know that there are two major eras." Torou counted them off.

"The Evolutionary Era and the Ascendant Era." He paused.

"The Ascendant Era... ah, yes, that's the current one." He shrugged.

"An era where cultivators flourish." The bishop's expression turned thoughtful.

"Two eras..." he repeated quietly.

"That is correct." He folded his hands together.

"Though we do not simply call this period the Ascendant Era." Torou looked at him.

"What do you call it?"

"The Age of Balance." Torou frowned slightly.

"Age of Balance?"

"Yes." The bishop smiled.

"Every era has its own name. Every age has its own meaning." Torou leaned forward.

"Then what happened during the Evolutionary Era?" The bishop's expression changed, and for the first time, something almost solemn crossed his face.

"The Evolutionary Era..." He took a breath.

"It was the age when life flourished." Torou listened closely.

"It was also known as the Age of Chaos."

"Age of Chaos?"

"An age where everything was unstable." The bishop's fingers tightened slowly.

"Life could mutate. It could become corrupted. Nothing was predictable." Torou frowned.

"What caused it?"

"We do not know." The answer came quickly.

"That is one of the great mysteries of the Evolutionary Era." Torou's attention sharpened. The bishop went on.

"Creatures changed without warning. Bodies transformed. Some lifeforms grew stronger, while others were twisted by corruption." He raised one hand slowly.

"The natural order itself seemed to lose its stability." Torou turned the idea over in his mind: a world where anything could mutate, where something harmless today might become a monster tomorrow, where even life itself couldn't be trusted to hold its shape. The bishop's voice softened.

"But then..." He smiled.

"Our Goddess appeared. In the Age of Chaos, She descended." He raised his hand.

"And with a wave of Her hand, the chaos was stabilized." Torou's eyes widened.

"The corruption disappeared," the bishop went on, calm as ever.

"The mutations vanished as though they had never existed."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." The bishop nodded.

"She protected the lives beneath Her." He lowered his hand.

"And that was the beginning of our church." Torou's mouth opened slightly.

"The Goddess herself appeared?"

"Yes." The answer came without a shred of hesitation.

"That is the only time our records say a God directly walked upon the lands." Torou's jaw dropped, and for several seconds he couldn't find anything to say. He'd known gods existed, or at least assumed they did, but this was different. A god had apparently walked among people. Not merely spoken through priests, not merely answered prayers from somewhere distant. She had appeared. She had acted. And according to the church's own history, She had saved everyone who believed in Her. Torou leaned back, thoughts racing.

If that's true... then gods weren't just distant beings sitting somewhere beyond reach. They could interfere with the world. They could walk on it. They could change things. The room fell silent. Torou eventually broke it.

"Does your Goddess respond to prayers?" The bishop nodded slightly.

"Yes." Torou's eyes narrowed.

"How?" The bishop placed a hand over his chest.

"It is difficult to explain." He smiled.

"It feels as though we are connected."

"Connected..." Torou repeated the word, and his thoughts stopped cold. Something clicked, a suspicion that had been sitting quietly in the back of his mind suddenly sharpened into focus. Connected. A being capable of reaching across distances. A presence that could speak into someone's mind from somewhere else entirely. A single name surfaced on its own. Unknown. He didn't move. The bishop kept talking, but Torou barely heard any of it.

The pieces were falling into place, not perfectly, not enough to prove anything outright, but enough that the suspicion was no longer something he could shrug off. He stayed in the church a while longer, asking questions and turning over the bishop's answers, until the conversation finally wound down and he and Hypen made their way back outside. The sky had already begun to darken, the golden light gone from the road, leaving only the last faint traces of orange along the horizon. Hypen walked beside him.

Torou said nothing, his thoughts moving too fast to put into words. He looked back once, the whitewashed church standing quiet beneath the darkening sky, its wooden cross still cut black against the fading light, and his expression settled into something serious. Could he really be an ancient existence? If that was the truth... His fists tightened. Then I must worship him like a god...