Auren felt his chest tighten from the tension of gazes that fell on him. It was almost like darkness ripped through their eyes, slowly dropping a boulder-weight pressure of expectation upon him.
Yet, he breathed and stepped forward, despite how heavy his legs suddenly felt.
He didn't want this. He didn't ask to be good with his sword.
He didn't ask for anyone's expectations; he didn't want to be a carrier of people's hopes. He had never once expressed the passion to become a beacon.
So why has fate spun something so disgusting upon him? And now, he had millions of expectations to please, millions of passions to fuel and satiate.
It was unsettling, but he was not going to brood helplessly about that. Instead, he steadied his mind.
'One last time… let's take Relisé's advice.'
Auren closed his eyes and prayed silently as he knelt down. He hadn't particularly been an avid follower of the Archon of Light's teachings.
Only because it didn't ever add up for him to leave his fate in the hands of something he could not see. And yet, for some reason, in a moment like this, he felt utterly powerless.
There was nothing he could do but truly leave his fate in the hands of an invisible and uncertain existence, according to his belief.
Auren went down on one knee and awaited the touch of the man's hand with tensed shoulders.
The tension flowed through the cathedral hall; even outside was silent, with everyone gripping their clothes and fists, awaiting the birth of something great.
Finally, the touch came. The priest pressed his hand on Auren's head.
There was immediately a sudden burst of crimson light that not only passed Auren's shoulder but shot out of the cathedral.
Gasps escaped the mouths of everyone both inside and outside.
"I expect no less of the Empire's talent… my rival," Lucien mumbled, with a corner of his lips curled up.
Auren closed his eyes, not opening them despite the sudden shift of the atmosphere. He could feel a warm radiance permeating his body.
It was like something was being zipped open within his muscles and veins by the light.
Then he felt something strange…
'...is it supposed to hurt?'
Auren frowned slightly, enduring the sharp stinging pain that soared across his entire body. It almost made him feel numb, but he held strong.
Then something changed in the atmosphere. The sky above became oppressively dark. A violent crimson lightning streaked across the sky and descended into the cathedral, disappearing into the pillar of light.
The high priest standing before Auren trembled in palpable horror, stumbling back.
At this point, Auren could feel that something was wrong, so he opened his eyes.
His body was radiating with crimson light, but red and black shades of sparks whipped across his entire form.
Then the light eventually dissipated, and everything returned to normal.
Everyone was taken aback by this, many people covering their mouths with strange expressions on their faces.
Auren looked at the High Priest, who was now looking at him like he was some degraded being.
The man turned to the Pontifex. Compared to before, when the man was attending to Randal, this took longer.
Finally, the man turned to Auren with a black, tattered paper. He cleared his throat and read out, his voice still trembling slightly.
"Auren Veyne… Divine grade…"
The gasps even grew louder and wider, causing the high priest to take a momentary pause.
He cleared his throat again and continued.
"Auren Veyne… Divine grade… Curse of Death and Darkness."
A deathly silence immediately settled on the atmosphere, inside and outside.
Auren frowned a little, tilting his head, slightly unsure of what he heard.
'Did he say… curse? That can't be right…'
He raised his head to the high priest, confidently voicing what he noticed.
"High Priest, I think you made a mistake. You said…"
"There are no mistakes, child. The Archon does not make mistakes. There are only fate. This is your fate, child."
The high priest's face contorted with disgust, his eyes condescending as he interrupted Auren.
It couldn't be, though. It was impossible for humans to be curses. A human received a blessing from an Archon and becomes a Blessed.
A Cursed, however, is a phenomenon, the reason why Blesseds are needed. A monstrous manifestation of negativity.
Hate. Fear. Despair. When seeds of these elements bloom, a Cursed is born. Cursed are not limited to humans; in fact, Cursed humans are very rare and could easily be saved by purification.
Cursed are something more malevolent and independent of their existence, they manifest into the world and destroy everything.
By all logic of the teaching that Auren had known and heard so far, it was impossible to receive a curse instead of a blessing when he was here kneeling before a conduit of the Archon of Light.
He raised his head again, a rigid resolve forming on his face as his voice rang out defiantly.
"Something has to be wrong! How can a human be cursed?!"
"Leave my front this instant," the man commanded with a tone of disdain.
Immediately, he called out the next.
"Lydia Draycott."
A brunette-haired girl passed Auren, her hair packed into side buns. Her brown eyes shone with an intense amount of focus, not even glancing at Auren, who dejectedly walked back.
Auren wasn't sure what was happening anymore; every noise suddenly sounded muffled. However, he could still hear the high priest's now vibrant voice as it announced Lydia's blessing.
"Lydia Draycott. Mythic Grade. Blessing of the Azure Starfire."
Again.
"Gideon Crowley. Common Grade. Blessing of the Night Light."
…
The muffled voice of the high priest continued to dreadfully ring into his ears.
And finally, he heard.
"Lucien Don Ryusmont. Epic Grade. Blessing of the Eternal Lumina."
Lucien paused as he gallantly walked back. He glanced at Auren and threw him a dirty scoff before going to reunite with his friends.
Again.
"Christianah Von Veymont. Divine grade. Blessing of the Luminous Zenith."
From that point on, Auren wasn't sure how the rest of the ceremony went. He sat at the last bench on the left side of the hall, unable to absorb how his entire life had just come crashing down on him.
…Even though he tried that thing called Hope.
'In the end, it was useless…'
But he couldn't be too fast to decide. Things weren't clarified yet. As far as he knew, it should be impossible to receive a curse.
At the very least, the priests should be able to explain this.
Auren finally stood up; however, two sentries approached him at that moment.
The teens and even the high priests had all left the hall, and he, so absorbed in his thoughts, had no idea when.
"We will escort you," one of them said to Auren, his tone dark and ominous.
"Escort me to… where?" Auren asked, his hand folding tightly around the hilt of his sword.
"Somewhere safe…"
Auren's expression darkened. He immediately pulled his sword. Before the fine blade could come halfway out of its sheath, the sentry who spoke grabbed his face and drove him wickedly to the ground, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the marble ground.
It was a strike that made Auren pass out immediately.