[Snippet] Making the Church Competent Through the Power of Faith!(Gacha): Chapter 10

[Quest Complete: Trouble in Romania!]

[Assist a small town in Romania in repelling a vampire attack.]

[Danger Rating: XX]

[Reward: 2 Faith]

Lucian looked at his bible as the reward was deposited and the quest disappeared from view.

A successful operation.

Though, maybe it didn’t quite feel like it.

It was hard to feel happy when he watched families mourning openly on the streets as the morning sun rose on the horizon.

It was easy to ignore the responsibilities and duties that his position now entailed when he was sitting happily in his little office.

Despite all his desires and supposed schemes or personal ambitions he held in this life, they seemed to have collided into the wall called reality.

The weight of the crown, or rather, the director's office in this case.

Maybe he had some romantic idealization of what his job would entail. That he could just cruise through this position, farm 'points,' and eke out a comfortable existence in life.

But seeing the dead, the living who had to bear the sorrow, and the ones who wished to join the former, the naive dreams of his seemed to slowly disappear.

It was strange, looking at the gathered corpses as the townsfolk meticulously cared for them.

Wrapped them up, covered wounds, prepared them for burials.

Lucian didn’t know a single one of their names, but for some reason, their faces were being burned into his memory.

An unmoving pillar amidst the swirling chaos of post-battle.

He didn’t know how long he stayed rooted in that spot.

The occasional resident came to him, kneeling, offering prayers, and thanking him profusely.

Others, showing signs of blind reverence, as if God himself had descended from the heavens to save them.

There was fear, of course.

It was human nature to fear the unknown, to fear the powerful.

Humans who didn’t know about the darker side of the world had been trapped in a perpetual hell for months, only to escape by a supposed ‘human’ and company wielding fantastical powers.

No matter how righteous or good intending, you couldn’t soothe every heart.

Some stayed out of sight, dared not to meet his gaze, or outright ran if his eyes landed on them.

The scene of him summoning a pillar of divine lightning from the heavens wasn’t something any person here would forget for the remainder of their lives.

Still, most of them showed him nothing but kindness, albeit with a degree of reservation.

The fear wasn’t reserved only for those who were afraid of him.

Fear of dismissal.

Fear of rejection.

Fear of punishment.

At a glance, Father Anderson and Sister Griselda, he could see that they were more used to these sensations and experiences.

Experience.

That was something he didn’t have.

Maybe they noticed; he didn’t know.

Lucian watched silently until a young girl came up to him.

She was awkward, dried blood on her face and arms, but showed no harm. Maybe healed by Asia, he didn’t know.

She smiled at him despite the awkwardness and tension in the air.

She put a flower at his feet and ran away without saying a word.

It was a small gesture, infinitely unimportant in the grand schemes of the world. But for some reason, it made his heart firm and fill with warmth as he knelt down and picked it up.

Maybe he had a naive idea of heroism. Driving up in his truck, killing some vampires, saving a town.

Even when he saw the numbers of the residents counting down, it was just that, numbers.

You can’t save anyone.

And more importantly, he understood in this moment, they weren’t heroes.

There was a reason he was the head of the burial agency, not a group of wandering heroes.

They do what they can; they do what’s necessary.

The world isn’t a kind place.

But at the very least, they can make it a little less shitty with every monster they kill. Maybe, hopefully, eventually, there will be a day when the last monster is slain so humans no longer have to fear the dark.

Until that day comes, the Burial Agency’s goal is to stand between humanity and what wishes to prey on them.

Lucian took the flower and placed it inside his Bible, closing it tightly.

“Cardinal.”

He looked up to see the old priest walking to him. The original priest of this small town, who with his own faith managed to restrain all the vampires from encroaching on the desecrated church.

It made sense when Lucian learned that the man had some manner of exorcist training, even if he apparently admitted to having no talent in the area.

But that confused Lucian, because those kinds of results shouldn't have been overlooked by the Church.

“Father Ionescu.” Lucian greeted the elderly man. “Are you up already? You should be resting.”

“The Holy Maiden has blessed me, and I am whole and healthy.” He smiled. “I thank you for your concern, Cardinal.”

His tone was filled with respect.

“You’ve come to me for something, Father?”

“I will not hide it; I have a request, Cardinal. Will you follow me for a chat?”

Lucian felt no threat nor hidden agenda, so he nodded. “Lead the way, Father.”

@***@

He expected to be led somewhere private, but he wasn’t expecting the old church.

As soon as they stepped onto the main road and made it halfway up the street, Lucian realized where he was being taken.

The road had been somewhat cleaned, but the morning sun showed the blood stains that still littered the cobblestone pavement.

At the very least, the bodies were taken care of.

Even as they approached the church, the vampire’s corpses had been burnt to ashes as well.

It was convenient that the Father here had knowledge of how to handle these things.

The Church itself had clearly seen better days.

It had been boarded up with various pieces of wood, some looking like they were broken off whatever furniture they had on.

And Lucian was fairly sure he saw pieces of pews nailed to the windows.

Inside, there was a group of people waiting for them.

“Do you speak English, Cardinal?” The priest asked him.

“I’m fluent in English.” Lucian responded in perfect English.

They had been speaking Italian this whole time. For him, it was second nature because Italian arrived magically and sort of just inserted itself into his brain in his early days.

English was, however, his native tongue in both lives.

“The ones before you speak English, so you need not be concerned.” 

“I am concerned about what not to be concerned about, Father.” Lucian spoke with a twinge of sarcasm, but his intent was clear. “Why did you call me here, Father?”

He didn’t answer immediately but looked to a woman in a half-torn dress, dried blood caked on parts of her body and her eyes bloodshot from crying.

"Diana," the father introduced. “Introduce yourself, will you kindly?”

“I am Diana Cojocar.” She curtsied awkwardly, with her torn dress. “Now widowed.”

The implication was obvious.

“Ivantie.” The Father called out again.

A larger-built man, a man who had worked hard all his life.

“Ivantie Nicu, my daughter died in my arms.” He spoke without a hint of emotion, but it wasn’t because he was lacking them. No, he had run out of tears, and his heart had died along with his daughter.

“Ovidiu—" The Father was about to call on another man among the dozen or so that were present, but Lucian put his hand up.

“I understand, Father. If you need me to help pray, if you want me to hear each of their stories, I will. But I ask you, what did you call me for?” Lucian knew it was something more than that.

“I spoke to Sister Griselda. The Purifier’s name was famous long before I retired. I could only admire her from a distance, as I was but a humble man without the Lord’s grace to perform the duties needed of me. She spoke that there is a new Organization of Exorcists that you lead, Cardinal. This Burial Agency—"

Once more, Lucian put a hand up because he understood where this was going.

The Father spoke just once more. “...they have nothing left, Cardinal.”

The Father wanted Lucian to take them in, to train them, to teach them how to be exorcists.

The thing is, the Church had plenty of non-Holy-Powered Exorcists.

The lowest rung of the ladder.

There simply weren’t enough 'talented' individuals for the Church to only recruit those with enough holy power innately.

It’s why weapons like Holy Light Sabers, Guns with Holy Bullets, and an entire array of weapons were created.

They were no longer ignorant of the darker parts of the world.

Their loved ones were gone, and they could no longer return to their normal lives.

What remained for them?

Most of them were middle-aged, far past what the Church would deem acceptable. Unless, of course, they possessed some incredible talent, but Lucian was fairly sure they did not.

“Why?” Lucian asked.

“Your speech moved them.” The Father spoke. “Cardinal, they need a purpose.”

His speech to Asia, the tenets of a Paladin.

Lucian closed his eyes because it was a difficult decision to make.

The weight of responsibility once more came down upon him.

“The Burial Agency only accepts elites. Sister Griselda, as you know. Father Anderson, who is exceptional in ways you cannot imagine. Asia Argento, who possesses the Lord’s blessing with a Sacred Gear. We are not like the other exorcist organizations, Father. We do not increase our numbers without consideration.”

It was as if the Father knew it was coming.

It was a big request on his part, he knew that.

But he felt he needed to try at least.

The others, they couldn’t hide their own despair.

The will to live past this night was becoming smaller and smaller with each passing moment.

“Ivantie Nicu," Lucian spoke up, snapping many of them from the sudden dark thoughts that clouded their minds. “What is your desire?”

“For no one to lose what I have lost.” He spoke without hesitation.

A will of steel that would stare death in the face and not blink.

It was a rare kind of man that lost what he cared for most and desired to prevent that from happening to anyone else.

“Diana Cojocar, what do you desire most?” He asked the other woman the Father introduced.

She wasn’t so absolute, so quick to answer. Perhaps her heart hadn’t been picked up off the ground yet; her resolve hadn’t been so quickly found.

But there was a fire in her eyes that no one could ignore.

A burning desire that roared beneath the surface.

It came with one word.

Not with hate, not with a desire to make those who hurt her hurt themselves.

Not revenge.

“Justice.”

The ones responsible were dead, so where would Justice come from?

The answer was clear.

She wanted justice from the world.

An accounting settled.

To become that Justice for others.

Lucian clutched the Bible in his hands tightly and snapped it open. The pages unfolded, revealing the same flower from before.

He felt a thumping in his chest as his body moved before his mind even caught up. 

“I request that Heaven bear witness.” His words were soft, but it was like a pressure descended upon the building.

He didn’t know why he said those words, yet as he did, the Bible in his hand shuddered, like it was responding to his will.

The Bible acted as a system all this time, ignoring him, unmoving and unfeeling.

It was as if it were now listening.

Lucian felt like a pair of eyes were drilling into the back of his head, evaluating him, judging him. The proverbial sword hanging over his head that would make its judgment. 

‘Why do we fall?’ 

The words weren’t from him; in fact, he didn’t know if the others even heard them.

They held a feminine tone to them, one he may have recognized. It was as if the question posed was the wall between him and what he wanted.

Whispered into his ear gently, but carried with it an unknown authority.

A lock that needed to be opened, and the only key was an answer that satisfied the question.

There were no lying or fanciful words. The Judgement dredged up the deepest parts of him, invading his thoughts, his mind, and his soul. If anything untrue was spoken, if anything insincere left his lips, he felt like the invisible blade above his head would fall.

Yet, he spoke without any further consideration.

There were no thoughts on failing this evaluation, this test.

“So we can teach others to stand again.”

There was only the brief rumbling of wind slamming against the loose shutters of the church windows and the creaking of aged wood.

Just as the intense feeling of divine wrath tickling his spine had manifested, it disappeared as if it were never there in the first place.

Lucian felt something warm, the brief image of a blond woman hugging him from behind with a big smile on her face.

[Quest Created: ????]

[?????]

[Reward: ????]

The others in the Church were forced to their knees; it was like a Holy Light had descended upon them as they looked upon the Cardinal with confusion and awe.

Very briefly, it was as if wings flashed behind his back, a trick of the eyes, an illusion, but one moment it was there, another it was gone.

“The Lord bestowed Seven Graces upon the faithful, Seven Sacraments. Baptism, Holy Eucharist, Matrimony, Holy Orders, Confirmation, Penance, Anointing.” Lucian announced; each word carried with it an invisible authority.

‘You can do what you want.’

He vaguely felt confirmation, an acknowledgement, like someone whispered in his ear.

"But by my authority as Cardinal Lucian Graves, First Director of the Burial Agency, I hereby decree the creation of the Eight Sacrament.” Words that are borderline blasphemous.

‘So it is spoken, so it shall be.’

“The Eighth Sacrament, the Grace that does not Exist. And those who adhere to it, the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament," Lucian stated. “You will not find honor here. There is no grace here. No closure. You are permitted to stray from the rules of your faith as long as the name of the Almighty is protected. You do not teach the words of the Lord, but you act as his representatives, his Executors.”

They all looked up at him.

“If you accept, then stand and receive this blessing.”

Each one of them stood up, and they were enveloped in a warm, soothing light.

[Quest Complete]

[Creation of the Eighth Sacrament.]

[Reward: Ritual for the Creation of Ash Locks (Fate).]

@***@

A/N

Lucian finds out that maybe his system isn’t as cut and dry as it seems. Though, don’t expect a talking system or any bullshit like that. 99.9% of the time, I despise it when a system talks back or listens to the user, interacting with them all the time.

He didn’t plan on making the Eighth Sacrament yet; he didn’t feel like he was at the point in his ‘career’ where it was feasible, but his emotions got the better of him this time. 

If the Burial Agency is the 'elite,' then the Eighth Sacrament is the rank and file, the numbers.

What are Ash Locks? They’re conceptual weapons not so different from Black Keys, but significantly easier to use because they can take pretty much any form. The example we have canonically in fate is a pair of gauntlets. But they essentially work the same.