Chapter 3: First Miracle, First Blood

Chapter 3: First Miracle, First Blood

The unholy alliance was sealed not with a handshake, but with a shared, suffocating silence. Jaydon stood in the center of his church, a place of peace now tainted by monstrous siege and profane counsel. Simon Castor, the rogue wizard, prowled the perimeter of the nave, his raven-familiar Corvus observing everything from the shadows of the choir loft. The blue System screen, a constant specter in Jaydon's vision, confirmed his choice with a soft chime.

[Quest Complete: An Unholy Alliance] [Rewards:] [+50 Faith] [New Skill Gained: Insight]

[Insight (Passive Skill) - Lvl 1: The Shepherd's eyes are opened. You can now perceive the faint traces of magical energies and identify spiritual weaknesses in lesser foes.]

A warmth spread through Jaydon's chest, a feeling like a half-remembered hymn, momentarily pushing back the fear. He felt… stronger. More certain. But Simon’s voice cut through the newfound sensation like a shard of glass.

"Don't get comfortable, Pastor," Simon said, tapping a long finger against one of the massive stained-glass windows depicting the Archangel Michael casting down the serpent. "This holy ground is like a dam. It's strong, but the Coven is patient. They'll keep throwing things at it until a crack appears. The Ghouls were just pressure."

As if summoned by his words, a low, scraping sound began. It wasn't coming from the main doors. It was coming from the walls themselves. A deep, guttural scratching, like a giant rat chewing its way through the very stone of the foundation.

"What is that?" Elara whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jaydon’s newfound [Insight] skill flared. He could see it now—faint, sickly green lines of energy, like mold, creeping through the mortar between the stones, converging on the base of the Archangel window. The holy light of the church seemed to dim wherever they touched.

"They've found a weak point," Simon muttered, his eyes narrowed. "Consecration isn't a perfect shield. A spot where the faith has worn thin, a place where blood was spilled long ago… anything can create a flaw. They're not trying to break the door down anymore. They're trying to pick the lock."

The scraping intensified, followed by a high-pitched, resonant whine. The magnificent stained-glass window trembled. Hairline fractures spiderwebbed across Michael's serene face. The leaden lines that held the colored glass together began to glow a dull, angry red.

CRACK!

With a sound like shattering ice, a section of the window near the bottom blew inward, showering the stone floor with a kaleidoscope of colored glass. A bone-white, skeletal leg, thin as a spindle, hooked itself over the edge of the opening. Then another. And another.

A creature of pure nightmare unfolded itself and dropped to the floor inside the sanctuary. It was a macabre puppet of shadow and bone, a thing that looked like a dozen desecrated skeletons had been fused together into the shape of a great, multi-limbed insect. Rib cages formed its segmented body, femurs and tibias its skittering legs, and at its center, where a heart should be, pulsed a malevolent, ugly green light. It moved with a twitching, unnatural grace, its bony claws clicking on the stone.

Jaydon's first instinct, the pastor's instinct, was to pray. "In the name of the Father—"

"That's not going to work," Simon snapped, a ball of crackling blue energy already forming in his palm. "It's a construct. A Bone Sentinel. Its soul is a curse, its mind is a command. You need to do more than ask it to leave."

The Bone Sentinel ignored Simon. Its head, a horrifying amalgam of jawbones and vertebrae, swiveled, and its empty sockets fixed directly on Jaydon. It knew who the source of this holy power was. It took a skittering step forward, raising a sharpened arm bone like a spear.

A chime in Jaydon’s mind was followed by a flash of text on his System screen.

[Threat Detected: Bone Sentinel] [Analyzing Weakness… Spiritual Core Identified.] [New Combat Skill Unlocked: Word of Rebuke]

[Word of Rebuke - Lvl 1: Faith is your weapon. Channel your divine will into a single word of power, creating a shockwave that repels and damages unholy entities. Cost: 10 Mana.]

There was no time to question it. The creature lunged. Simon launched his bolt of blue energy, but it simply glanced off the creature's bony carapace with a shower of sparks, barely slowing it down.

"It’s shielded against arcane magic!" Simon cursed. "It's your show, Pastor!"

Jaydon saw the creature's target—the sickly green glow at its core that his [Insight] skill made plain as day. The System’s prompt flashed urgently in his vision: [Focus Faith. Channel Intent. Speak the Word.]

He wasn't a warrior. He was a man who spoke of forgiveness and peace. But as he looked at the monstrosity closing in, and at Elara cowering behind the altar, something hot and fierce ignited within him. It wasn't hatred. It was a shepherd’s fury. A holy, righteous anger at the wolf that had dared to enter his fold.

He lifted his hand, the same one that had touched the Codex, and focused all his fear, all his doubt, and all his resurgent faith into a single point. Mana, a resource he didn't even know he had, drained from him, feeling like a deep, sudden exhaustion. The air grew thick and heavy.

The Bone Sentinel was almost on him, its bone spear aimed at his heart.

Jaydon opened his mouth and spoke. It was not a shout, but a command that carried the weight of the church itself.

"BREAK."

The word did not just echo. It detonated. A visible ring of golden light erupted from Jaydon, slamming into the Bone Sentinel. It was a physical blow, a sonic boom of pure, divine authority. The creature froze, its bones vibrating violently. The green light at its core flickered, then shattered like a cheap lightbulb.

For a heartbeat, the creature hung in the air, suspended. Then, with a deafening cacophony of cracks and snaps, it exploded.

Bones, bleached and ancient, flew in every direction. Splinters and shards of rib and skull peppered the pews and clattered against the far walls. A fine, gray dust of desiccated bone settled over everything. The sudden silence was absolute, broken only by Jaydon's own ragged breathing.

He stared at his hand, which was trembling. This was no gentle miracle. This was violent. This was destruction. A part of him was horrified. Another, deeper part felt a terrifying surge of satisfaction. He had met the enemy not with a prayer, but with power. He had drawn first blood.

"Well," Simon said from across the nave, his voice holding a note of genuine surprise. "That's one way to handle pest control. A bit loud."

Jaydon ignored him, his gaze falling on Elara. She had watched the entire exchange, her terror giving way to a stunned awe. Now, she was looking at the settling dust with a strange, dawning dread on her face.

He took a step toward her. "Are you alright?"

She didn't seem to hear him. Her hand went to her left wrist, where her sleeve had been torn during her escape. Her fingers traced something beneath the fabric.

"They weren't just hunting me," she whispered, her voice shaking with a terrible new understanding.

"What do you mean?" Jaydon asked, kneeling beside her.

She pulled back her sleeve, revealing her wrist. In the dim light of the church, Jaydon saw it clearly for the first time. A complex, spiraling mark, intricate as a Celtic knot, was tattooed—or perhaps branded—into her skin. And as he watched, it began to glow with a faint, pulsing violet light, reacting to the residual divine energy in the air.

"It wasn't trying to capture me. Not yet," Elara said, her eyes wide and fixed on the glowing symbol on her own skin. "It was trying to activate this."

She looked up at him, her face pale with a revelation that changed everything. "It's not a birthmark, Pastor. It's a key. And they need me to open a door."