Call Of The Tamer - Chapter 6: Sharasn Pius, The Old Priest

Michael gasped as he woke up, his breathing weak and rushed. An unfamiliar ceiling greeted his sight, made from old wooden planks, dust still covering nearly every inch. How long had it been since they were cleaned? He groaned and whimpered as a headache worsened, hammering his brain and skull. All of his senses and thoughts ended in pain, from the attempts to move his fingers to the ribs creaking in his chest. He lay limply, unable to gather the strength to move, immobile in ceaseless agony.

A loud squeak that grated on his ears spluttered as a shoddy door rattled against the wall, and slight steps creaked on the floor, approaching slowly. Michael couldn't lift his head even to see who it was, but his answer came soon. An elderly man walked to his side and studied him from above. Old…was the only word Michael had to describe the stranger. The entire face seemed to have melted, the cheeks, chin, and eyelids sagging down and dangling in fleshy sacs. Like the rings of a tree trunk, the deep, numerous lines creasing past the brow indicated the advanced age of the elder.

"Small child. You're awake. Fortunate you are that I found you." The elder rubbed his long, white mustache, the only bits of hair remaining on that head except for the bushy eyebrows. His voice was incredibly high, and Michael remembered that the vocal cords of older people often degenerated and led to high-pitched voices. The elder was silent, gathered his breath, and then spoke up again, "No child…should wander the forest at night. Short, yes, but deadly to a small child."

The elder lifted an old mug with trembling hands and tilted it toward Michael's lips, a cursory glance showing water swishing inside. Michael sipped the lukewarm water and tried to gulp, but the mere contraction of his chest heightened the pain wracking his ribs. Unable to bear it, he coughed and choked on the water stuck in his throat, having no strength to force it down or spit it out. A cycle of agony spread as his limbs attempted to flail in an involuntary response to choking, spiking the pain and dispersing any attempts to gather strength.

Pain Blocker is automatically activated! Ten minutes of zero pain.

His Passive activated, and instantly, Michael felt the weight lifted from his head, the pain turning into a cool relief, liberating his senses. Finally, he drank the water and sipped more from the mug, washing off the bitter taste on his tongue. His lungs, no longer held back by pain, swelled in great inhales. Michael still couldn't move but was glad to have this respite. He peeked at the elder, who withdrew to a chair and wiped the sweat that glinted between the deep wrinkles. Thanks to Pain Blocker, Michael found the energy to speak, "Thank…you."

"Glad you're alright. Found you all bloodied." The elder chuckled and then started a coughing fit. He patted his simple white robe and placed his palm directly on the golden symbol of a hand resting on the chest. It looked very familiar, and upon a dig in his memories, he recalled he had seen it in one of the books–the mark of the Holy Kingdom of Celern, and he had seen it on the strange girl who embraced him in the library. He hadn't connected the dots before, but now it was evident that the girl was a part of the Holy Kingdom. The elder placed a damp towel over Michael's forehead and said in his comically high-pitched voice, "I am Sharasn Pius, the priest of this old church. And you are?"

Since Sharasn gave his name, Michael was obligated to give his own, not to mention the man was his savior. "I am Mikhael. Thank you for saving me."

"Mikhael…is it? That is a fine name. What of your last name?" Sharasn asked.

"I…." Michael opened his status and decided to follow the name given by the System, not his true name. "I don't have one."

"I see. I see." Sharasn's eyes and expression were hidden under the saggy wrinkles and skin, but he looked gentle, radiating a soothing warmth of kindness, similar to his stepfather. Sharasn rose from his seat, quivering from his shoulders to his knees. "Rest now, Mikhael. Rest, small child. Sleep and dream."

The door squeaked shut, bringing silence and peace to the small room. Michael closed his eyes and sensed two life forms, taking the form of spheres of light, stars,  floating in the darkness. Reaching his will out to one, he connected to the mind of Mong, his first beast and companion, and sighed in relief to find him alive and well. Apparently, Mong was in the next room over. He withdrew from Mong's star and entered his new companion's star, Grace's, the crow that saved him. A slight chuckle spilled from his mouth at the hilarity of naming a crow after his stepsister. If she knew, then she'd complain and retaliate in screeches before complaining to Mom.

Name: Grace
Race: Crow [FFF]
Strength: FFF
Endurance: FFF
Vitality: FFF
Agility: F
Magic: FF
Active Skills: Dive[FFF], Stab[FFF]
Passive Skills: Cover Of Dark[FF]
Traits: Treasure Seeker[FF]

He glossed over Dive and Stab and expanded the Passive Skills and Traits.

Passive Skill: Cover Of Dark
Rank: FF
Type: Inherited
Description: Activates when moving in the darkness. Others will require greater perceptions to sense the wielder's location. Speed is also enhanced while the skill is active.
Restrictions: It does not work in the shadows of the day, only under the night. Once revealed by light, the effects are undone.

Trait: Treasure Seeker
Rank: FF
Type: Inherited
Description: A fine intuition for spotting and finding treasures others may have overlooked.
Restrictions: It can only sense up to 100 feet in all directions. It can currently sense treasures up to rank D.

Michael stared at the words, unsure of how to feel. While the skills were great, especially Treasure Seeker, he read the words that gave an ominous chill and frowned. Cover Of Dark was a good skill, but how many nights would he spend in this world? Treasure Seeker was a boon, but how long would it take for him to scour the entire world of U'ru for any hints or treasures pertaining to a way out? He also needed to rank it up, a process he had no idea how long it might take.

Pain Blocker has ended!

Michael couldn't even scream as the ten minutes of piled pain erupted like breaking free from a dam. 'Please, let me find a way.' He thought as he blacked out. He was in a church, a place of prayer and worship to the Gods. Perhaps he didn't need to go through all the pain and long years in this world. Maybe one of the Gods might receive his plea and respond.

In and out, Michael wandered between the real world and his dreams, forced awake by agonizing cries of his bones and torn muscles and forced back into a coma by them. Sharasn Pius, the old priest, was there at all times he awoke, changing his bandages and keeping a fresh, damp towel over his forehead. Sometimes, he ate a sloppy stew of what he assumed to be simply water, shreds of cheese, and breadcrumbs, disgusting, but it quenched his hunger.

Surprisingly, his Vitality shone during the long period of recovery. With the extent of his wounds, Michael expected to remain in bed for a month like his friend did after a car accident, and he was certain that the bear's claw would shred apart any rushing car. However, he regained feeling in his legs and even sat up on the bed. Despite being ranked FFF, his Vitality stat got him off the bed in a short week. Rubbing his legs, Michael thanked Sharasn for the crutches and pulled himself to his feet, dragging his shaky legs out of the room. Grace flew and perched herself on his shoulder, pointing its beak proudly up. Mong barked and wagged its tail, jumping in circles around him.

"Your beasts love you well. That is good." Sharasn smiled, flashing rows of wooden dentures.

Michael stroked Grace's beak from under and asked, "You know what I am, right?"

"Of course. Only an Awakened could heal so fast." Sharasn lost the usual chuckle and scrunched the deep wrinkles as he frowned. He knelt and patted Mong's head, having taken care of them in Michael's stead for the past week. "However, Awakened or not. It matters not. We are all the same under the eyes of the Gods. They cared for everyone, you know? Even as Awakened ascended and the others ruled U'ru, the Gods showed grace to the non-Awakened. You have come to my church. Embrace your identity as an Awakener, or stay hidden and live normally. That is your choice. I am simply the one who shelters as the Gods did."

As his preaching ended, Sharasn chuckled and bobbed his head. "So relax. Be at peace here."

Michael swept his gaze over the short hallway, spotting mold on the crevices between the floor and walls, the paint worn and torn. A few cobwebs littered the corners, with lazy spiders staying still. This place didn't seem to be a place of worship, and he compared it to the various churches he had been to, remembering everyone helping to clean it after services. "Where can I speak to the Gods?"

"Speak? No. Pray? Yes. We pray. Good. That is good. Follow me." Sharasn chirped and leaned on his cane. On each step, he stumbled and palmed the wall for extra support. He turned to Michael and smiled, "Bear with this old one for just a little while longer."

Michael smiled since his pace was slower than the old priests. He dragged his feet by hanging on the crutches, inhaling and exhaling as if he were exercising and lifting weights. Down the stairs, Sharasn opened another squeaky door. The room was familiar, or rather, the setup was the same he had seen on every day of worship in his world. Five rows of plain benches faced a podium. The banner of a palm draped to the floor, the golden part worn down to a faint yellow. Every part of the assembly hall had been built to put all focus on the podium that stood a step higher, yet the room was small.

"Forgive me. At every church, statues of the Eight Gods stand in the chamber of worship. But my predecessors here have failed. Committed blasphemy. Sold the images of our Gods for cheap coins." Sharasn pointed and shook his cane at it, and Michael followed the gesture to an empty pedestal and wandered his gaze around the room, seeing more empty pedestals, seven in total. The last one stood in the farthest corner, made from wood, pieces of it chipping away from the years passing by.

"Ah. The Tamer God. The God of Connections. Marvelous, isn't he?" Sharasn noticed his intense gaze and walked in front of the statue. He knelt and motioned for Michael to follow, mumbling a few words of reverence. "The others of the Eight Gods were carved from fine marble. Detailed and seemingly alive. But he, alone, gave only this and declared any images of himself to be made from old oaks. A humble God. Kind as well. He brought humans and beasts together in companionship. Like you and yours."

"No one wanted to buy the statue?" Michael had watched antique road shows in the past, and even the most worn-down artifacts attracted a good price for their historical value.

"Others had value in their stone and marble. One of rotting wood and a muddied image is worth little." Sharasn reached out but held back his hand as if afraid of ruining the statue. "But I see beauty. Its majesty is unrivaled. I admire the Tamer God. You must be a Beast Tamer, one blessed by the System to grant you his gifts. Will you pray to him? Is it for your mother?"

"Yes," Michael scooted closer on his knees and clasped his hand over his chest, the other on the floor, the strange stance of prayer in his world. He preferred clasping his hands together, but customs were customs. His heart laid bare and poured out into his thoughts in deep prayers. 'Please. Tamer God. If you can hear me. If you're out there. Please, let me get back home. Please send me back. I must return home. My family needs me. I need them. Please.' After several minutes, when he heard nothing, Michael prayed to the God of his church in the old world but received silence. The Gods of the old and new worlds of his life have both fallen silent.

The wooden floor strained and broke under his tightened grip. Michael pulled his hand back and turned to Sharasn, who patted his shoulder. The old priest sighed, "The Gods used to answer long ago. Then, all prayers found no response. The Dusk Era began. Many churches are like this one in the old towns and villages. Wretched and decaying. Don't fall to anger, young Mikhael. I'm sure one day, you'll find the answer. Perhaps not now. Maybe years later."

"I don't want to wait years! I can't lose years. I need the God's help." Michael brushed off Sharasn's hand and stood up, pacing back and forth while gripping his hair.

"Why? What do you need from the Gods?" Sharasn staggered on his way up and bowed once more to the Tamer God. Michael bit his lips and held his tongue, unwilling to speak the truth. The old man seemed quite devoted, and Michael couldn't know what might happen if Sharasn knew he was from another world. The old priest smiled, "Their gifts live in you. Maybe you must find it, Awakener Mikhael. What now?"

The air grew stifled as Michael looked over his hands, small and weak, and the crutches that balanced his legs. Amid the silence, Sharasn went over to the podium and opened a book, blowing the dust off with a series of weak exhales. His faint chuckles reverberated in the assembly hall. "You can stay while you recover. For now, sit and listen. Long time since anyone listened. My sermons finally have a pair of ears that could listen to them. Sit." He waved over to the front bench. Michael sighed and relented, taking a seat in front of the podium.

Perhaps Sharasn had an inkling Michael knew nothing of the written scripture since he started from the first chapter, detailing the start of the world U'ru and the descent of the Gods. 

'In the deep void, the sole realm of Er'veil shone as the sole beacon of life. The Eight Gods gazed upon the endless nothingness and saw it was not good. From Er'veil, the Evergrowth God and the Order God beckoned pieces of Er'veil, their holy land, to scatter into the void. Sizes of grains, they were, but brimming with the wills of the two Gods, the world seeds. The Night God and the Sun God sent out pieces of their hair to accompany the world seeds. They were quite the mischievous ones, mixing the number of hairs randomly, leading to some worlds of many moons and one sun, one moon and many suns, or many moons and many suns.

Time passed, and the world seeds erupted, blooming into entire worlds, some closer to Er'veil and others far away. The moons and suns spun in cycles, mimicking the endless game the Night God and Sun God played. And finally, life sprang from the gestation of Order and Evergrowth. The many species on the countless worlds spread and became fruitful over the face of their worlds. The Shape God ignited their emotions into existence and molded their faces and bodies, all of them driven by the Shape God's dreams that dreamt of countless races. The Arms God furthered the Shape God's designs and granted the beasts claws, beaks, fangs, scales, and more. He gifted others the knowledge to craft their own weapons since they lacked the natural gifts of beasts. The Sustenance God granted the knowledge of hunting and farming and gave beasts their instincts. Then, the Tamer God granted them relationships and the ability to talk, connect, and gather in groups, whether in packs, herds, around the campfire, or all together in one harmony.

Thus, the universe began, and our world, U'ru, was closest to their realm. So, they descended here.'