HOME - MEDIA - WORLD - CHARACTERS - ABOUT - RANDOM
Heavy boots hit a dirty cobblestone floor. The loud sound bounces around the church's spacious hall. The inside was lit an unearthly olive green as light spilled in from massive stained glass windows. The ongoing war's chaos seemed to mute itself the moment Fungal Blade stepped inside.
It was like the church itself was disconnected from the outside world, merely listening in to its affairs...
The armored warrior kept a tight grip on his longsword's hilt, skeptical eyes scanning each dark corner several times for hidden cultists waiting to spring upon him. The paranoid man's heart skipped a beat as the lone target he'd come this far to retrieve finally revealed herself. Baked in the sickly green glow housed within the church, Sister Concordio rose from behind the podium at the opposite end of the worship hall.
The warrior dug his heels into the ratty blood stained carpet and pointed his blade's tip towards her.
"Finally found you, Concordia," Fungal Blade said, an arrogant smirk across his face.
The nun simply stared at him, eyelids shut tight. She responded in a soft, briefly playful tone, "There isn't a point in hiding, is there? I'm cornered."
The warrior let out a chuckle, "Hey, nice to know you're not stubborn like your squealing sisters."
"Fortunately for the both of us, I understand things they do not," She admitted. "You've come alone. Your bravery impresses me, warrior."
"Uh, thanks?" Fungal Blade didn't really expect to be complimented given the circumstances.
Silence hung. Fungal Blade's heart pounded against his ribcage. He wasn't a fearful man, but the Stems people had ruthlessly slaughtered for decades... The woman they answered to had to be equally as dangerous, right? Yet, there she stood, like a statue behind the worship podium.
"I do not believe I've heard of you before, child," She carried on, bowing her head forward slightly, "What is your name?"
"That isn't really important right now, is it?" Fungal Blade shook his head, blade still aimed down the hall at her. "Listen, sister, hands above your head, and I promise I'll make sure the chiefs don't do anything to you. I'd prefer if nobody else had to die."
Fungal Blade took a step forward, hands gripping his sword. Sister Concordia did not comply, remaining standing where she was. The entire time, she wore an eerie smile. It uneased the lone soldier greatly. He began approaching at an incredibly slow pace, senses honed in.
Concordia finally spoke up after a few steps forward, "People die out there, and for what purpose?"
He squinted fiercly, stopping in his tracks. "I think the reason should be quite obvious," Fungal Blade scoffed, "Why live with such cruelty when you could live in peace, sister? It really isn't that bad, promise."
The woman laughed, responding to Fungal Blade with her own question, "Why do your people hold purposeless life so highly?"
He was taken aback, previously tight attention scattered. "The hell do you mean?"
Concordia moved around the podium, stepping down onto the opposite end of the carpet from Fungal Blade. He resharpened his nerves, intense focus directed at every little movement she made. Little, meaningless specs of dust floated in the abnormal lighting. The distant cries of the valiantly dying tribesmen seemed so detached from the church's interior; It disturbed Fungal Blade.
"Long ago, our people weren't any different. When we were first born here, we appeased the shroom, we nurtured it, we sought to complete its growth throughout generations. It kept us together, it kept us strong, it kept us formed under a selfless cause. Then, as the world changed and the land no longer met our needs immediately, many were poisoned by selfishness and left the Grand Shroom to rot."
The warrior ground his teeth together, "Yeah? What's your point?"
"You, Fungal Blade, have now unified defectors under a pact of selfishness, your warring tribes' truce is an ode detailing their denial of their universal purpose."
Sweat rolled down Fungal Blade's pitch white skin. His breathing became noticeably heavier. Many thought he was dumb, but his secret talent was wit and observation, and those two helped him almost instantaneously realize something: He never gave her his name, nor did he ever explain that he had been the one to unify the tribes.
The man's ever-present confidence shook. Was he truly in the presence of something much larger than he understood?
"Y-You're crazy, lady!" He defensively brushed her words out of his mind.
She laughed again. This time, it was not quiet, but loud and empowering. "A high priestess long ago left the traitors alive under the ideal that we shared the same blood, only taking what we needed from them to sustain our purpose, but it appears as if my ancestors' choice turned out to be a mistake."
The floor shook. Fungal Blade was taken off-guard, stepping backwards in shock.
"With each sacrifice given to our purpose, it has grown stronger; As our trust grows, I've been told many things of the past and future. You must believe me when I say that only misery will befall our people if you seek to let selfishness guide. If you give up now, we could unify as one selfless tribe again. Please, Sir Armeld-"
...!
Fencien gasps. She's sweating. Velvet comforts are thrown off her as she jolts upward.
The bare woman frantically looks around her dark room from the comfy confines of her bed.
The dim decorative lights of an asleep desktop illuminate her room in a sickly green glow.
It was that dream again. Every few months, she got it. She hadn't ever consumed any media like it, nor written anything, nor imagined anything like it so why...
So why did it keep coming back? Why didn't the events ever change? Why did it feel so real?