Restaurant

The roasted meat, spicy sauces, and thick soup on the plates awakened his hunger like a beast; his stomach growled again, making the candle's flame on the table flicker. But his eyes were locked on the two strangers across from him—Elias and Vivienne.

Elias's voice had changed since removing his helmet; the muffled echo of the armor was replaced by a warm but resolute tone. His red hair blazed like fire in the candlelight; his hazel eyes, weary but sharp, carried a commander's weight. Freckles dotted his pale skin like a star map; his youthful face seemed Michael's age, but his armor lent him a timeless authority. Elias set down his fork and turned to Michael. "I'm Elias Crowhurst," he said, his voice calm but confident. "This is my sister, Vivienne Crowhurst. From now on, we'll be your teammates." The words hung in the air like a commitment; Elias's gaze weighed Michael, not with hostility but as if evaluating a comrade.

Vivienne was silent. Her curly red hair spilled over her shoulders; each curl danced in the candlelight. Her freckles matched Elias's but were more delicate, scattered across her cheeks and nose bridge like a spring sprinkle. Her small, delicate face carried a fragile, protective air; her long, slender neck was graceful yet strong. Her red eyes—absurd but mesmerizing—seemed to bear the mark of a curse or miracle. Her gaze pierced Michael; soft but deep, like a lake. When she smiled, her thin lips curved slightly, reigniting the happiness in Michael's chest. Siblings. Michael relaxed for a moment. They're not married. Maybe… The thought was cut short by shame. What am I thinking?

"Teammates… what do you mean?" Michael asked, his voice cracked and hesitant. He had been unconscious for a year; he had no skills, only survival. Elias took a spoonful of soup, responding with a thoughtful expression. "Lady Adelaide assigned you to our team since we arrived here. To be honest, we don't know much about you. All we know is that your name was on the list—by Lady's direct order. Our job was to look after you. Since the war started, frankly, it's been tough. Missions were designed for three- or four-person teams; Vivienne and I took too many risks each time." He smiled, his freckles more pronounced in the candlelight. "But you know what they say: high risk, high reward."

The information flooded Michael's mind like a torrent. Lady Adelaide? Look after me? Missions? His heart clenched with confusion and fear. "Why me?" he asked, his voice nearly a whisper. "I don't have any skills. No knowledge, no talent." Elias set his fork on the table; his hazel eyes locked onto Michael. "Actually, that thing with your arm… I think it's a bit special." He paused, as if weighing his words. "I don't know the details, but I sense an energy. It doesn't seem like a problem. What you did before the war doesn't matter to us. We'll give you the chance you need; all we ask is that you don't turn your back on us." He gestured to Michael's arm; Michael looked at his left arm—the skin formed by the ritual's miracle, still pale, still foreign. Elias continued, "The secret of your arm… we don't know it either. But if you get a chance, you can ask Lady. She knows."

Energy? The word sparked an echo in Michael's mind. In the Valieria Holy Mother Church, there were mentions of Pierre's strange powers—but the details were always deferred, always glossed over. He swallowed, his throat still dry and cracked. "Energy… what does that mean exactly?" he asked, his voice trembling. Vivienne spoke for the first time. Her voice was light, melodic, but carried an undercurrent of wisdom. Her red eyes gleamed in the candlelight; her smile was both gentle and teasing. "Energy, well, we could call it Vita," she said, spearing a piece of meat with her fork. "Vita is the power our father Adam bestowed upon us. Before ascending, Adam gave humanity one last gift: Shells and Vita. But 'Vita' sounds silly, so most people just say 'energy.'" She giggled; her voice chimed like a bell, laughing at Michael's confusion. "It's said that in the beginning, humans had Vita reservoirs in their abdomen. Then someone—nobody knows who—took those reservoirs. But when Adam granted the Shells, the reservoirs formed again. Shells let us use Vita; energy is the fuel for the Shells."

Michael froze. Adam? Shells? In the Valieria Holy Mother Church, Adam was a rebel who defied God, building a ship to challenge the heavens. He hadn't bestowed anything—holy scriptures spoke of his curse. But here, in Titan Grave, Adam was a father, a benefactor. His mind was caught between two opposing beliefs; Vivienne continued, as if Michael's confusion amused her. "Shells are obtained through the grace of the gods. Everyone's Shell is different. Psychosis Marianna says: 'When the first Shell was born, the soul still belonged to the human. When the second Shell cracked, only echoes remained.'" Her words hung in the air like a hymn; Vivienne's red eyes drifted for a moment, as if trying to unravel Marianna's mystery. "Marianna exists in a different realm of power from us. Her words are harmonious but incomprehensible. As for you…" She turned to Michael, her gaze sharpening. "Beyond your arm, I don't sense any energy in you. You'll probably need to talk to Lady."

The information made Michael's head ache. Shells? Vita? Lady Adelaide? He gripped his soup spoon; the metal felt like a cold reality in his fingers. They began eating; the meat melted in his mouth, the spices burned his throat, but the taste quelled a year's hunger. His mind still spun. The Valieria Holy Mother Church's Adam was a rebel; here, Adam was worshipped. Two opposing ideals clashed in his mind—Is this heresy? But Elias and Vivienne's ease, the strength of their faith, silenced him. The meal continued quietly; only the clink of forks and the crackle of the candle filled the room.

When they finished, Elias paid the bill—a strange metal token gleamed on the table. Michael said, "Thank you," his voice sincere but weak. They left the restaurant; the village streets were alive with blue, yellow, and red hues. Tin roofs gleamed in the candlelight; the brown earth, different from the gray desert, was still barren. In the distance, the green liquid tried to approach the village like a wave, but armored figures sliced it with strange tools, releasing vapor and a salt smell into the air. In the sky, the obsidian coffin floated; its lid tilted, hiding its interior, its sound now a moan. The Titan was still there...

As they walked, Elias began to speak. "We actually have a delivery mission coming up," he said, his voice calm but cautious. "But if you don't want to do it, we won't force you." Michael paused for a moment. He had been unconscious for a year; Elias and Vivienne had looked after him, protected him. Shame grew in his chest like a weight. "Actually… I was a burden to you while I was asleep," he said, his voice resolute. "I'd like to do this mission. It'd be good for me too. But… I have one request. Can you take me to Lady?" Elias smiled; his freckles were more pronounced in the daylight. "You weren't a burden, Michael. In fact, we grew a lot during this time. We'll go to Lady, don't worry." Vivienne giggled; her red eyes sparkled with mischief. "Elias always plays the hero," she said, nudging his shoulder. "No problem, we'll be fine together."

The walk was colored with light conversation. Elias and Vivienne spoke about themselves. Elias was born in Brightmere, a lakeside town. "It was a place where you could see stars in the water's reflection," he said, his voice nostalgic. "But nine years ago, the Nightbane armies came. They burned everything. We—Vivienne and I—escaped with our childish wits. We took nothing; we were starving on the road. Lady's army found us. They became our home, trained us. We owe them." Vivienne nodded. "Lady is strict but fair," she said. "She saved us, but expects us to work in return." Michael's heart clenched as he listened; the ashes of his own family, flashed in his mind for a moment. They've lost too.

They spoke of Titan Grave. "This is the tomb of a dead god," Elias said, looking at the coffin in the sky. "The Titan tried to revive its will by planting seeds. The Church—Heavenway Church—learned of it. They discovered the pocket dimension and decided to stop the Titan. It's still alive but can't return to its full form. We don't know why." Vivienne added, "Lady is part of the Church's inquisition team. Every five years, she's sent to hunt abominations. We came with her." Michael looked at the coffin; its obsidian surface swallowed the sunlight. The Titan was still here.

I asked Vivienne a few questions about Shells, and she answered calmly:

Initially, people with ordinary Shells were simply called Shell-bearers. They were used as power levels, and no special name was needed.

The next level was Advanced. It was said they had left humanity behind in many ways. I didn't fully understand—what did "leaving humanity" mean?

The level above was Transcendent. They didn't know much about these. They were rare. Some even said Lady was at this stage.

Even if you started as a Shell-bearer, you could ascend. It was like a divine gift to humanity—you wouldn't stay cannon fodder your whole life.

Beyond Transcendent was a mystery. Some rumors claimed there were levels above it, that Shells were an endless path. Others argued Shells weren't as grand as humans imagined, just something given to placate them.

This created two religious factions:

Heavenway Church: They saw Shells as an endless path, a gift, a path to divinity. They believed godhood was achievable through Shells. They worshipped gods, but their belief in accessibility made them prone to blasphemy in some minds.

Sanctum Divinitatis: They believed Shells had an end, that divinity was unattainable, and humans should turn to the world and self-improvement to transcend.

Both paths sought divinity in different ways, but their ideological divide strained relations, drawing a thin line between them. The Heavenway Church was aggressively hostile toward Sanctum Divinitatis, actively hunting many of its members.

Our region belonged to the Heavenway Church. The siblings naturally supported this group and explained it at length. But both seemed absurd to me. If I'd become a god in the end, what did the path matter? Whether through Shells or self-improvement.

As for Vivienne, she had Advanced-level power, innate from birth—lucky her. Unlike most, it didn't come from a Shell, putting her a step ahead. Her power enhanced those around her and herself.

Shell powers were called Marks. Most people had one. But in rare cases, some were born with a Mark without a Shell, though this was extremely uncommon.

In short, Shells were power levels, and Marks were the abilities they wielded.

The walk was colored with light conversation. Vivienne mentioned Marsvellov candy—red, sour, bursting in the mouth. "If I find one, I'll let you try it," she said with a mischievous smile. She loved steak; "Charred, slightly bloody," she described, her red eyes gleaming. Her favorite color was red, like her hair. She turned to Michael. "What's your favorite color?" Michael said, "Black," a classic answer. Vivienne's face took on a playful pout; "Seriously?" she said, giggling. Michael couldn't help but laugh; Elias and Vivienne joined in with chuckles. The road felt lighter for a moment; the Titan's shadow receded briefly.

Finally, they reached a building rising in the village's center. The other buildings—rusty tin-roofed, hastily built—were small and scattered, but this one was different. It was made of brick; in Valeria, brick was rare and costly, a symbol of authority. The walls, reddish-brown, were smooth but weathered; cracks were stained with dust and war's marks. The double doors were black iron, etched with strange, pulsing runes along the edges. The building was simple yet grand—majestic as a fortress, humble as a monastery. Two guards stood at the door; their silver and black armor gleamed in the candlelight. A red glint flickered in the slits of their helmets; their serrated, threatening spears rested in their hands.