Chapter 10 - ascension trial (1)
A/N - you, yes you, read the god damn authors thoughts section important stuffs there today.
-------------
"John, you're back. Did that guy say or do anything weird to you?" Eric's annoyance was palpable, driven more by the fact that Dante had spirited John away in front of him than by the grand duke's action itself.
John met his father's gaze, his expression neutral as he replied, "He didn't say anything too peculiar." The High King's contemplative demeanor hinted that he likely grasped the undertones of the encounter, the unspoken currents that had flowed between John and Dante.
Gerrard intervened with a touch of reason, placing a reassuring hand on Eric's back. "Calm down, Eric. His Holiness needs to speak to John regarding his ascension ceremony, considering he will be the one conducting it."
A sidelong glance at Gerrard was followed by a nod from the Pope, prompting Eric to sigh, surrendering to the practicality of the situation. "Let's leave. I'm sure he'd want to have a private conversation with the boy."
"Of course," both Irene and Gerrard chimed in as they trailed Eric, Irene's concern for John mingling with her understanding of Dante's character. Deep down, she knew that he wouldn't harm a child. At most, he would share their history, their complex ties.
----------------------
Seated opposite the Pope, John adjusted his suit with a practiced hand. His posture was confident, his demeanor relaxed as he locked eyes with the pontiff. "Well, Your Holiness, what's on your mind?" The directness in his approach caught the Pope momentarily off guard, a refreshing change from the expected formalities.
The Pope's voice, measured and calm, carried a sense of purpose. "I wish to gauge your mental preparedness for the impending trial. There are less than 15 hours remaining, and I recommend that you rest well before the trial begins." The weight of the ceremony loomed, an invisible hourglass counting down. "Before we conclude, however, I have a small test I'd like to offer you."
John leaned back in his chair, exuding ease despite the gravity of the situation. "Please, proceed."
As the Pope's aura began to intensify, the room's temperature perceptibly climbed, like a breath of fiery energy. John's keen senses picked up on the shift, his expression remaining composed.
Inwardly, John contemplated the Pope's background. 'Right pope Lucius was elected from the dominion of fire, after his death 5 years later, the already bad corruption within the church just went to a whole different level, all the ones that had been staying calm and not trying to invite his wrath had started to act up the moment the next pope was elected from the dominion of the earth.'
As he delved deeper into his thoughts a relaxed smile played on John's lips, a demeanor that perplexed the Pope. The heavenly flames of Pope Lucius's ascension ability, "Flames of Heaven," ignited with formidable intensity. Yet, the 10-year-old before him exuded a disarming calm.
For John, this was but a mild surge of warmth, he had killed dragons, and fought against the dragon lord to a draw, a race that was considered to be on the same standing as minor gods, and the lord that was at the same strength level as major ones, there was no way such heat would affect him. Such experiences rendered the Pope's elemental display almost innocuous.
"Your Eminence, a disclaimer," John's tone carried an undertone of nonchalance, "Raising the heat won't affect me in the slightest."
A bemused smile tugged at the Pope's lips. "Then, let's try another approach. If this too proves futile, I shall consider you fully prepared for the trial," he declared with an air of intrigue, ready to probe the depths of John's resilience.
"Flames of judgment," the Pope intoned, and the room's temperature swiftly returned to normal. A small but radiant, golden flame materialized on the index finger of his right hand, its flickering glow casting intricate shadows on the walls.
"Try not to faint," the Pope's voice carried a tinge of amusement as he suddenly appeared before John, his finger lightly touching the boy's forehead. The sensation was unexpected, the contact sending a faint shiver through John's body.
At the point of contact, John's eyes widened, a rare occurrence as his usually crimson irises began to display a slight golden glow, a phenomenon that felt both awe-inspiring and inexplicable.
--------------------
As the golden glow radiated from John's eyes, he found himself inexplicably transported to a surreal realm. A space devoid of true physicality, stars and galaxies sprawled in all directions. The peculiar thing was how he could perceive the distant formations despite the immense gaps between them. Illusion, vision, or another realm—it defied classification.
*rummmmbllleee*
Amid this cosmic expanse, a thunderous rumble resonated, originating from every direction at once. Reality itself seemed to bend, and before John, a rift tore open, as if reality itself were fabric sundered. A torrent of brilliant golden light spilled forth, revealing two crimson eyes—mirroring his own—glimmering from within the tear.
Then came the deep voice, resonating like distant thunder. "Now is not the time." John's consciousness felt like it was plummeting, accelerated by an unseen force. The fall intensified, and just as abruptly, he felt a pull, drawing him back. His perception snapped, and he was abruptly back in his body.
"Huff huff huff huff huff," John panted, beads of sweat trickling down his face, his chest constricted as he struggled for air. He clutched at his heart, bewildered and disoriented. The experience was an enigma, leaving him shaken to his core.
"What did you do to me?" John's voice was tinged with a mix of accusation and alarm as he shot a glare at the Pope. The same shock that flitted across the Pope's face mirrored the mystery that cloaked the event itself.
"I merely sought to test your essence, to gauge its resilience," the Pope responded, his expression marked by concern. "Even I am unaware of what you witnessed. However, if it affected you to this degree, I recommend postponing the trial."
"No, that's not an option," John retorted, reaching for the glass of water that the Pope had placed before him. He gulped down the cool liquid, the taste helping to ground his rattled senses.
"Very well, if you're determined," the Pope conceded, his voice softened. He aided John to his feet and gestured toward the exit. A waiting priest was summoned, the task to guide John to his chamber entrusted.
Meanwhile, the Pope's command wasn't confined to the sacred room. Urgency laced his whispered words as he leaned closer to a guard stationed at his chamber entrance. "Summon the Emperor immediately."
With a swift nod, the guard wordlessly departed, urgency propelling his strides, on a mission to inform Eric and the rest.
In just 45 seconds, Eric received the news and swiftly appeared before the Pope. Concern etched across his face, he wasted no time. "What happened? Where is John?" Eric's voice carried a mixture of urgency and worry.
"He's safe, I sent him to his room to rest until the trial begins. However, I have something of concern to share with you," the Pope replied, his tone gravely serious.
Eric exhaled heavily, taking a seat as he prepared himself for the news. "Please, go ahead," he prompted, his gaze fixed on the Pope.
"After you departed, I offered John a mental test as the trial conductor. At first, I presented him with an illusion of the room heating up. To my surprise, John passed through it without any trouble, the trouble came after that." Lucius began, his fingers tracing a nervous rhythm against each other. He regarded Eric with deep-seated concern before continuing.
"I employed the Flames of Judgment to allow his own soul to assess itself. I can't fathom what transpired within the vision he experienced, but whatever it was, it terrorized him to the point where his breath ceased for a moment." Lucius paused, his expression troubled. "I did suggest he reconsider taking the trial. Such an extreme fear reaction after judgment indicates either a severe mental weakness, which I doubt John possesses considering he withstood the heat illusion effortlessly, or the trial's object was overwhelmingly strong. I suspect the latter in John's case," he concluded, maintaining eye contact with Eric as the weight of his words settled between them.
Eric remained thoughtful for a prolonged moment. "It's ultimately John's choice. You've cautioned him against proceeding with the trial in his current state. If he still opts to go through with it, that's his decision. If he fails, it may indicate he was incapable of making the right call. And if he succeeds, he will have overcome whatever provoked such a response." Eric's voice was measured, his expression guarded. His thoughts were a battlefield between his roles as a father and an emperor.
"You are his father damn it. It's your responsibility to intervene when your child is engaging in something reckless," the Pope retorted, his frustration leaking into his words.
Eric's response was steady and resolute. "I understand my role as his father. However, I am also the Emperor, and he is a Prince. If he can't adequately assess his situation, then that's the extent of his capability. I care deeply for him, and I'll grieve if he fails. But I can't intervene once he's aware of the consequences," he said, his tone carrying the weight of tradition and duty.
The Pope's frustration became palpable. "You and your damned fucking imperial traditions are infuriating. Leave me be. I need some rest," he snapped, his frown deepening as he reclined into the cushions of his couch.
-------------------------------
Meanwhile, John was laying on the bed in his assigned room thinking of the vision the pope had just made him see.
"Now is not the time" John muttered back to himself the words he heard before being flung back into his body, "what does that even fucking mean? The pope said that he allowed my soul to test itself, which means it was a preview of what I would face in the trial…then should I not have been facing myself? I ascended with the ability to 'cut'…not whatever the fuck that was" John said to himself as he sat with his legs crossed.
"Shit" was all John could manage to curse out as he vaguely understood what was going on.