The priest pushed open the grand wooden doors, revealing a vast garden bathed in gentle sunlight. In the center stood a towering man with a round belly and an even rounder smile.
"This man is Koncha," the priest announced, his voice carrying a solemn weight. "He will be your examiner for the final trial."
"Hello, everyone!!" Koncha greeted them, his voice warm and booming. "Today, I'm making food, and I need someone to bless it." His hands gestured toward the large assortment of ingredients before him—fresh vegetables, tender cuts of meat, and glistening fish.
The priest nodded. "For your last test, you must bless the food he prepares."
Koncha chuckled, his belly bouncing slightly. "If you want to be Righteous, you have to believe. You have to practice your prayers. And after all that effort, your body will be exhausted, right? That's why you need to eat properly—healthy, blessed food. Let your body absorb the faith within it!" His expression turned serious for a moment. "If you pray and then eat unblessed food... well, there's no balance. Your body won't grow properly."
With practiced ease, Koncha set to work, chopping, slicing, and stirring in a massive pot. The rich aroma of simmering broth filled the air. "I used to cook for the Righteous every day for five years, back when I was just a Blessed," he mused. "I saw so many people breaking their links left and right... I knew I had to start training early. Instead of just doing my daily prayers, I walked the Sacred Path once or twice a week. And let me tell you—after a while, I could feel the difference."
The four remaining participants listened in silence, absorbing his words. Soon, the soup was ready.
"For this test, you will have to bless my soup," Koncha declared, his voice filled with anticipation.
For some reason Orynn understood that
...and yet... he didn't understand.
"But... we can't bless food. We're not Righteous," he said hesitantly.
Koncha threw his head back and laughed, his belly shaking with mirth. "That's exactly why we're doing this test! To see if any of you can bless food!" He reached for a ladle, filling four bowls to the brim. "Now then, I will hand each of you a bowl. The first one to successfully bless it... will pass."
A tense silence filled the garden as Koncha extended the first bowl.
The four participants each took their own, their gazes locked onto the steaming soup before them. The test had begun.
One by one, they pressed their hands together, whispering prayers, pouring their faith into the food.
Nothing happened.
The first participant furrowed their brows, repeating their prayer, this time louder. Still, the soup remained the same.
The second closed their eyes, focusing with all their might on the soup, but after several minutes of deep meditation, there was no change.
The third, Orynn, tried a different approach, drawing a prayer circle in the air above the bowl, imagining his faith falling on the soup, his fingers glowing faintly. But when he opened his eyes, he saw Koncha, merely shook his head.
Orynn, however, refused to accept failure. His entire life after Lef saved him, he had believed that faith was absolute—that belief alone would carry him through any challenge. He clenched his fists, staring intently at the soup as if sheer willpower could force it to become blessed.
"This is my trial," he muttered. "I know my food is blessed."
Koncha let out a long sigh, his large arms folding over his chest. "You did not bless the soup, you subconciously do not believe you can even bless it." he said, his voice carrying an amused yet knowing tone, "you're delusional."
Orynn's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond, feeling his neck tight, it was difficult to breathe.
Meanwhile, the priest stood at a distance, watching them all in silence, his expression unreadable.
Then, there was Baro.
Unlike the others, he wasn't forcing the blessing, nor was he whispering prayers in desperation. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the ground, his small wolf pup, Furfur, nestled in his lap. He stroked Furfur's soft fur absentmindedly, his touch gentle, affectionate. A warm light radiating from the palm of his hand, the pup felt truly relaxed and safe.
The moment his fingers brushed against the pup's head, a warm glow ignited from within Baro's chest. A brilliant, golden light flared, radiating outward in gentle waves, illuminating the garden like the first light of dawn.
The glow, went back in and settled over the bowl of soup in his hands, but it was more than it could contain going towards the bowls of the other participants as well, and instantly, the aroma changed—growing richer, deeper, more vibrant.
Koncha's eyes widened. He sniffed the air, his mouth watering. "That… that smells amazing!"
Baro blinked, looking down at his bowl in surprise.
Koncha wasted no time. He grabbed a spoon, scooped up a large portion, and shoved it into his mouth. The moment the soup touched his tongue, his entire body trembled. His eyes rolled back slightly, and a deep, guttural groan of satisfaction escaped his throat.
"Incredible…" he muttered between bites. "This is the best soup I've ever tasted and I've made thousands of bowls!"
Without hesitation, he grabbed another bowl, then another, devouring the blessed food like a man who hadn't eaten in days. His round belly only seemed to expand as he continued, spoon after spoon, until finally—he let out a long, satisfied sigh.
His eyelids drooped. His shoulders slumped. He leaned back against a tree, patting his full stomach with both hands.
"Well, that's it for me," he murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness. "I think… I need a nap."
And just like that, the great Koncha—the examiner of the final trial—began snoring peacefully under the afternoon sun.
The priest, still watching from afar, finally smiled.
The trial was over.
And Baro had passed.