"Sorry, I'm just worried," William said, his smile trying to mask the unease that was evident in his voice.
He knew he had overreacted. But could anyone really blame him? If the old priest had raised his voice just a little, half the iron mining village would hear it. The place would descend into chaos. He wasn't used to dealing with ordinary people; his battles were against monsters, not the village folk. What if things got out of hand? He wasn't sure if he could slip away unnoticed.
William had no idea how powerful the clergy were, which only added to his anxiety. His instinct told him: strike first, ask questions later.
"I serve the gods, child," the old priest said, his voice calm and steady. "I do not wish harm upon any soul who is merely confused. But if you have truly fallen into the devil's clutches, no force of violence will make me bend."
William remained silent, keeping his thoughts to himself. He was just a teenager, after all, and out here, far from home, survival came first.
Then the old priest's eyes narrowed, his expression sharp. "Tell me," he asked, "have you been to the mine that carries the devil's curse?"
William blinked, surprised. "How did you know that?"
The priest's gaze fell upon the iron spear William carried, recognition flickering in his eyes. "That weapon... I recognize it. And its original owner." His voice softened, his mind wandering to memories of days long past. "A fine young man once wielded that spear. He stood right before me, full of ambition, declaring he would go to war. I had hoped to recommend him for knighthood in Snow Wind City..."
The old priest sighed, the weight of loss clear in his eyes.
William scratched the back of his head, trying to lighten the mood. "I just went there to kill a few monsters, but things got a bit out of hand."
The priest studied him carefully, nodding after a moment. "You are a gifted child."
"What do you mean by that?" William asked, tilting his head.
The priest's gaze seemed to pierce through him. "Perhaps," he said thoughtfully, "you could become a demon hunter."
Suddenly, a flicker of text danced across William's mind, as if the world itself offered him a choice:
[Job Change Prompt: Would you like to change your profession from 'Demon' to 'Demon Hunter'?]
William raised an eyebrow. "So, what do I have to do?"
"I could write you a letter of recommendation," the priest offered, "You'd need to visit the headquarters of the church and speak to the bishop—"
"Yeah, no thanks." William quickly shook his head, dismissing the idea before the priest could finish. Becoming a pawn of the church? He wasn't so sure about that. He didn't have time to chase after their grand headquarters. He had bigger plans; leveling up, for instance.
The priest's eyes clouded with regret, but he didn't press further. Demon hunters were indeed powerful, but theirs was a lonely and unforgiving path. Few made it through without succumbing to madness, despair, or corruption. The pressure could break even the strongest.
Those who lived long enough often met grim fates; forgotten in the wilderness or overtaken by the very darkness they fought.
"No one should become a demon hunter if they can avoid it," the priest finally said, his voice somber. It was a shared understanding within the church. Few who walked that path ever came back whole.
"Actually, that's not the real reason I came to the church," William said, continuing to scratch his face awkwardly. He wasn't particularly good at navigating conversations with people like the old priest, people who were genuinely kind and always seemed to have your best interest at heart.
The priest, as kind as ever, smiled gently. "Then tell me, child. What is it you seek?"
William hesitated before asking, "Have you ever heard of spiritual oil?"
The priest paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the question. For a moment, confusion crossed his face, but then understanding dawned on him.
"You've got that lantern, don't you?" the old priest said, a note of realization in his voice.
"Yeah," William nodded, reaching into his backpack. He pulled out a carefully wrapped lantern and handed it over.
The priest took it in his hands, his expression softening with a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow as he inspected the object. His fingers traced the contours of the lantern like someone recalling distant memories, perhaps of others who had carried it before.
"Just to be clear, this is mine," William interjected, not wanting the priest to get any ideas about reclaiming it. After all, he had earned it. He had fought tooth and nail in the cursed mine, and this lantern was the biggest prize he'd walked away with. He had no intention of handing it over, no matter who it might've belonged to in the past.
The old priest smiled softly, as if understanding William's concern. "Don't worry, child. It's yours. I wasn't sure about you at first... but now I believe you're a good soul."
William blinked. "Uh, what?"
The priest turned the lantern over in his hands, explaining as he did so. "This lantern only harms creatures of darkness. Its light is meant to protect the innocent, not to bring harm to those who walk in the light."
"Wait, so it's specifically for fighting creatures of darkness? Got it. But what about me?" William asked, his curiosity piqued.
The priest gave him a knowing look. "You are not a demon, William. The lantern's light will only suppress the demonic traits you carry, nothing more."
William nodded in understanding. The lantern would dampen the demonic power he had, but it wasn't enough to be a problem. The benefits of having it far outweighed that minor drawback. It was well within the limits of what he could tolerate.
"Can it only be ignited with spiritual oil?" William asked, shifting the conversation back to the practical side of things.
The old priest nodded. "You could use ordinary kerosene or other materials, but without divine power, the lantern will only serve its most basic function; light. It won't channel the protective force that comes with spiritual oil."
He continued, "This lantern comes from the cloister of the Border Town Cathedral. Monks there often carry such lanterns when they patrol cemeteries, offering comfort to the dead and ensuring that human corpses rest peacefully. Spiritual oil is a precious resource in the church, imbued with strong divine power. But, due to its rarity, most monks use ordinary kerosene during their patrols. It illuminates the darkness, but offers no protection. The monks must rely on their own skills to face whatever evil they encounter."
William listened intently. The more he learned about this lantern, the more valuable it seemed.
With a grin, he asked, "Do you have any spiritual oil to spare? Name your price."
He was starting to piece things together. The spiritual oil seemed to be a bit like the magic stone in Little Red Riding Hood's slingshot, it enhanced the lantern's power, making it far more effective. He couldn't afford to pass up the chance to get his hands on some.
It couldn't be described as merely "better than nothing"; in fact, it was a significant enhancement.
A developing lantern without spiritual oil was nothing more than an ordinary magical trinket. Sure, it could light up the darkness, but without the oil's divine properties, its full potential was completely untapped.
William sighed inwardly. His luck had been less than stellar. Both his slingshot and this lantern required consumables, items that needed constant replenishment. "Damn it!" he thought, a little frustrated. "Why aren't there any powerful weapons that don't need all this extra stuff?"
The old priest watched him for a long moment, then spoke, his voice calm but purposeful. "I can give you the spiritual oil, but there's one condition."
William blinked in surprise. "That depends," he said cautiously, "on whether your condition is something I can accept."
"If the day comes when the cursed mine stirs with unrest; when a demon is resurrected, or a demon's offspring emerges; you must come back here. No matter where you are, you must bring the lantern and help protect us."
William shook his head immediately. "No, that's too open-ended. Let me add a condition of my own, I'll return only if I know about it, and only if I'm in a position to come back. I won't make any promises I can't keep."
The priest chuckled softly at William's quick bargaining. The boy was sharp, and he wasn't going to make blind commitments. It wasn't exactly a formal contract, more like a verbal understanding.
The priest nodded. "Very well. That's acceptable."
William mirrored the nod. "Then I can agree to that."
Without hesitation, the old priest disappeared into the back of the hall, returning with three small, sealed pottery jars. He placed them gently in William's hands.
William inspected the jars. They looked oddly familiar, and it didn't take long for him to place where he'd seen them before, back in the mine. The jars there had been empty, but these felt different. He could sense the weight of the spiritual oil inside, each jar holding about half a pound of the valuable substance.
Curious, William broke the seal on one of the jars. The oil inside was crystal clear, almost like it wasn't there at all. But the faint, refreshing fragrance it emitted was unmistakable, filling the air with a soothing aroma that was impossible to describe, yet incredibly pleasant.
[Spiritual Oil: A spiritual substance extracted through secret methods. It has numerous magical applications and effects.]
The priest, having handed over the spiritual oil, went on to explain how to properly use the lantern. "There's a knob on one side of the lamp head," he said, demonstrating. "It adjusts the wick in and out. You can control the brightness depending on how much you need to see. At its maximum setting, it can illuminate up to dozens of meters, but be careful, the more you increase the brightness, the more fuel it consumes."
He turned the lantern slightly, showing William another feature. "Here's the fuel pipe; so you won't have to open the lamp cover every time you need to refill it."
William listened attentively, nodding along as the priest explained. When the lecture ended, William grinned, feeling more prepared. He carefully placed the jars of spiritual oil into his backpack, where they neatly stacked together. They may have been small, but their importance was immense.
Now equipped with the knowledge and the fuel, William felt more confident. This lantern, with its full power unlocked, could be a game-changer in the battles that lay ahead.