Chapter 3: The Weight of the Seven Moons
The seven moons hung in the sky like silent sentinels, their varied hues painting the world in an ethereal glow. Zean sat by the window, his thoughts running wild as he tried to make sense of the strange reality he had found himself in. His gaze drifted from one moon to the next, lingering on the crimson one.
Seven moons... Does this world even follow the same rules as Earth? Seven moons would tear a planet apart with their gravity—or maybe this world is larger than Earth. Could it have a different physics altogether?
The questions came faster than he could process, each one building upon the last, a whirlwind of confusion and curiosity. He shook his head, trying to ground himself.
"Speculation won't help me," he muttered under his breath. "Focus, Zean. One thing at a time."
His eyes fell on a folded newspaper on the bedside table. He reached for it, his fingers brushing the coarse paper as he brought it to his lap. The first headline caught his attention immediately.
"Child Found Dead in Alley Amidst Rising Tensions"
Zean's stomach churned as he read the article, which detailed the exact event he had witnessed the night before. The victim's age was listed as just eight years old. The image of the boy's lifeless body flashed in his mind, and he clenched the paper tightly, his knuckles whitening.
"Mass Murder in Eastern Orphanage: 54 Dead, 12 Survivors"
The next headline was even worse. Zean read the details in a numb haze. A group of children had been slaughtered in what appeared to be a coordinated attack. The article speculated about the involvement of dark forces but offered no concrete answers.
The Church is investigating... The Crusia Church. Who are they?
He skimmed further, his eyes catching a detailed section about the Crusia Church. It was part of a network of seven churches, each aligned with a deity and a corresponding region.
Crusia Church: Grandland
Atum Church: Grandland
Varuna Church: Grandland
Horus Church: Eastland
Osiris Church: Eastland
Sekhmet Church: Mainland
Jade Emperor Church: Westland
Seven churches... Seven moons... Is there a connection?
He tried to commit the names and locations to memory, repeating them silently until they stuck. The more he read, the more his curiosity grew about these gods and their influence on this world.
Turning to the last page, he found another major headline:
"Explosion at East Harbor Claims 50 Lives, 122 Injured"
The sheer volume of tragedies left him feeling hollow. Setting the paper aside, he let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his temples.
"This world..." he murmured. "It's not just strange—it's broken."
He stood, intending to clear his mind with a walk. As he opened the door, faint sobbing reached his ears. He paused, the sound pulling at something deep within him. Following the noise, he found a room where a couple sat on the floor, clutching a small, empty blanket.
"They were just babies..." the woman wept, her voice thick with grief.
Zean's chest tightened. He thought of his own parents—of their smiling faces when he had last seen them. What would they think now, knowing he was gone? Were they grieving, just like this couple? The thought was almost too much to bear.
He backed away, giving the family their privacy, and headed downstairs. The stairs creaked under his weight, the sound cutting through the silence of the inn. At the bottom, he found himself face-to-face with a tall man with piercing green eyes and a sharp, calculating expression.
"You're awake," the man said, his tone neutral but carrying an undercurrent of curiosity.
Zean recognized him immediately. It was the investigator from the alley—the one who had been with the guards.
"I'm Aryan Gonja," the man continued, extending a hand. "I'm with the Crusia Church."
Zean hesitated before shaking it. "Zean. Just... Zean."
Aryan studied him for a moment, then gestured to a nearby table. "Let's talk."
They sat across from each other, the wooden table between them a barrier both literal and metaphorical.
"How are you feeling?" Aryan asked, his voice softer now.
"Better," Zean replied cautiously. "Thanks to whoever brought me here."
Aryan nodded. "The guards found you unconscious. You're lucky to be alive, you know. Not many survive an encounter with the likes of what you faced."
Zean's jaw tightened. "What was that thing?"
Aryan leaned back, folding his arms. "A member of the Lucifer Cult. Specifically, someone who has reached Gate 6."
"Gate... 6?" Zean echoed, confusion evident in his voice.
Aryan's expression turned serious. "In this world, followers of the gods gain powers through gates. Each gate represents a level of power, starting from Gate 7 and ascending to Gate 1. The higher the gate, the more formidable the abilities."
Zean processed this in silence. The sheer scale of what Aryan described was overwhelming.
"And the Lucifer Cult?" he asked finally.
"They worship a forbidden entity," Aryan explained. "Their followers gain power by defying the natural order, but their methods are... abhorrent."
The image of the robed man and the lifeless boy resurfaced in Zean's mind.
"And you think I can help?" Zean asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Aryan leaned forward, his eyes intense. "You survived an attack from a Gate 6 cultist. That's no small feat. Most wouldn't have lived to tell the tale. I believe there's something about you—something that makes you... different."
Zean swallowed hard, the weight of Aryan's words sinking in. "I don't even understand this world, let alone know how to fight in it. I'm just—"
"An ordinary man?" Aryan interrupted. "Perhaps. But you've already proven you're not entirely ordinary."
Zean fell silent, torn between fear and a strange, reluctant curiosity. Could Aryan be right? Was there something unique about him?
Aryan's tone softened. "I won't force you. But I could use your help. The Crusia Church has tasked me with investigating Case 198—the mass murder of children. You've seen firsthand what we're up against. I need someone who's willing to face that darkness with me."
Zean hesitated, his thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and fear. He thought about the boy in the alley, the grieving parents upstairs, and the world that seemed to be unraveling at the seams.
"I'll do it," he said finally, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
Aryan nodded, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Good. You won't regret it."
---
Far away, in a dark, cavernous room, a figure knelt before an ethereal being whose form seemed to shift and shimmer like a mirage.
"I have failed you, my lord," the figure stammered, his voice trembling. "The witness... he still lives."
The being didn't speak, but the air grew thick with malice. The kneeling man's screams echoed through the chamber as his flesh began to melt, his form disintegrating into nothingness.
A second figure emerged from the shadows, bowing low. "The children have been delivered as instructed," he said, his tone calm but reverent.
The ethereal being's presence seemed to ripple with satisfaction.
"Good," it whispered, its voice like the hiss of steam. "The gates must be opened."