The Church Endo

"I could stay like this forever..."

Basking in the soft glow of his soul, Cypher lay on the sandy ground that seemed to pulse with life beneath him. He had no recollection of how long he had been here, and frankly, he didn't care. The world outside felt distant, almost irrelevant. Here, in this space that was undoubtedly his, he could breathe, free from the weight of reality, and for the first time in a long while, he could rest.

While time had no meaning here, Cypher wasn't idle. He had experimented with the sand that surrounded him, testing the limits of his newfound control. It had not been much, but he had succeeded in making the sand orbit around him in a swirling cyclone. It wasn't yet strong enough to be used as an offensive weapon, but he could already see its potential in combat—changing the very ground beneath his enemies, trapping them in immobilizing dunes. For now, it was more of a support than a weapon.

His muscles ached from exertion, and his senses tingled with a new kind of strength—stronger than he'd ever been in his previous life. Three men, maybe more, pulsed through his veins, all from breaking just one chain.

But the momentary peace didn't last. Cypher shifted his gaze upward, toward the orb suspended in the sky. It was surrounded by chains—black and gleaming like obsidian shackles. His emotions surged as he stared at them—hatred, indignation, and an unrelenting ambition. He knew instinctively that these chains were the reason he was still bound, held back from what he could become.

But with no knowledge of how to break the remaining eight, he could only endure them—for now.

"The day will come," Cypher whispered to himself, his voice low but filled with conviction, "and I'll tear down the last one with my own two hands!"

He felt a strange pull then, a gentle tug on his very being. He furrowed his brow, confused.

"Am I waking up?"

The pull grew stronger, more insistent.

"Wake up, Cypher."

The voice was soft, almost a whisper against the vast stillness of his soul space, and in an instant, his world faded to black.

---

When Cypher opened his eyes, the sensation was overwhelming—softness, warmth, and comfort that seemed foreign to him after everything he had been through. He found himself resting on the most luxurious mattress he had ever felt, as if he were lying on a cloud. A thick white blanket cocooned him, its warmth spreading across his body, pulling him deeper into its embrace. His clothes were a tight-fitting black shirt that clung to his newly-formed lean muscles, and loose white pants that seemed both comfortable and effortless.

As his senses returned, he quickly took in his surroundings. This was no place he recognized. Gone were the filthy streets of the underhive, replaced by a spacious room brimming with wealth and opulence. The floor beneath him was smooth white marble, polished to perfection, and the walls were adorned with a delicate flower-patterned wallpaper that exuded an air of elegance and beauty. On the walls, paintings of angelic figures clashed with the violent red of demons, swords raised in battle against winged monsters.

His attention was drawn to the large window. Beyond it, he could just make out the edges of the underhive, a far cry from the beauty surrounding him. His eyes narrowed slightly. "The church?" he muttered under his breath.

A soft, enticing scent wafted into his nose. Perfume. His mind snapped to attention.

"Sniff..."

Slowly, he turned his head, and there she was—Saint Clementine. She was lying beside him, watching him with a serene expression as if she had been waiting for him to wake. For a moment, Cypher's heart skipped. He was relieved that she seemed fully clothed, or else his suspicions might have gotten the better of him.

"You were sleeping so soundly, I feel a little bad for waking you," she said, her voice gentle yet carrying an undercurrent of authority that Cypher instinctively picked up on.

His thoughts immediately spiraled into panic. Memories of the chaos, the people he had killed—it all came rushing back. He had no idea how many had perished before he had collapsed. His heart pounded in his chest as he leapt from the bed, lowering his head in a mock display of humility.

"M-Ms. Clementine! I-I didn't mean to... all those people... I killed them," he stammered, tears falling from his eyes. His acting was flawless—Oscar-worthy, in fact. He was already playing his role down to a letter.

She didn't seem to bat an eye at his tears. Instead, she smiled softly, sitting up and moving toward him. Her arms wrapped around him in comfort, and Cypher's mind raced, calculating the next steps. Why aren't I locked up? Why am I not attached to a guillotine?

"No need to be so scared, dear," Clementine soothed, her voice warm and comforting. "We all experience the same when we awaken; it's a natural consequence of your Soul Core lashing out."

"Soul Core?" Cypher repeated under his breath, trying to mask his growing excitement.

"Of course," she continued, brushing his hair gently, not a trace of doubt in her words. "You're special. To awaken without a noble lineage proves you're a genius worth more than any of those mortals."

Cypher's eyes gleamed with understanding. Soul Core—that was what the orb had to be. And judging by her words, only nobles were typically capable of this power. But for him, a mere commoner, to possess it made him unique. Dangerous, even.

"Thank you, Lady Clementine," he murmured, already formulating plans in his head. The church, the wealth, the power—he would make this work. There was a lot to learn here, and Cypher was never one to pass up an opportunity.

"Just Clementine," she corrected with a soft smile. "No need for honorifics."

He nodded, a fleeting smirk tugging at his lips, and allowed her to guide him through the room. As they moved toward the door, he couldn't help but notice the sheer size of the church. The hallways stretched endlessly, the air thick with the scent of incense and polished wood. Soldiers in their ornate armor saluted Clementine as they passed by, their footsteps echoing in the vast silence that followed them. It was a place of power, control and worship.

Clementine spoke as they walked, her voice clear and steady. "You possess the Soul Caliber, as I do. It's the power that originates from your Soul Core, the very thing that makes you a Dreamweaver."

"Dreamweaver?" Cypher asked, his interest piqued.

"Yes," she answered, her voice taking on a somber tone. "A Dreamweaver is someone touched by divine power. But not everyone can wield it—only those with a special connection to the gods. You and I, Cypher, are among the rare few."

She paused, glancing at him as they continued their walk. "The Soul Caliber is ranked, from 1 to 9. You are at rank 1. Each rank represents a step closer to unlocking your true power. I, for example, am at rank 4."

Cypher felt the weight of her words. Rank 1... He was barely even classed as a Dreamweaver and yet he already felt he had the strength to kill multiple grown men with ease!

"And what about the chains?" Cypher asked, unable to hide the curiosity in his voice. "What do they do?"

Clementine's gaze softened. "The chains restrict the power of your Soul Core. They are safety measures to prevent a Dreamweaver from destroying themselves. To break each chain increases your power. But no one has ever broken all nine."

"What's my rank then?" he asked, eager for more information.

"You are at Soul Caliber 1," she replied, her eyes thoughtful. "And I, as I said, am at 4. But the real test is not your rank—it's what you do with the power you've been given."

As they neared a set of towering metal doors, Cypher felt a strange thrill course through him. Behind those doors lay what should be some sort of Library.

"Here we are," Clementine said, her voice tinged with pride. "The Vanderwald Library. It's my father's legacy."

The doors groaned open, revealing rows upon rows of books. The scent of old parchment and leather filled the air as Cypher stepped inside, eyes wide with wonder.

"If you'd like to stay, you're more than welcome," Clementine said with a knowing smile.

Cypher barely heard her, so absorbed was he in the endless sea of knowledge before him. "Really? If it's okay, I think I will."

She chuckled. "Take your time. I'll be waiting."

As he wandered deeper into the aisles, the vastness of the library felt like a treasure trove of power waiting to be uncovered. And Cypher was determined to learn everything he could, starting with the books that caught his attention—one on the study of the human body and another detailing the records of the Age of Dreams.

Knowledge is power, Cypher thought, as his fingers brushed the first book.