The priest blinked, momentarily stunned by the cold neutrality in Kyle's tone.
It stood in stark contrast to the weeping, desperate villagers who had spoken before him—those who begged for crumbs of divinity and paid for it with coin, faith, and dignity.
This man… was different. Strong, tall, calm, and dangerous in ways that put the priest on edge.
Still, the priest straightened, offering his most polished, compassionate smile.
"My child, you need not carry such burdens alone. The gods are merciful. They listen. They guide. Place your hand on the Sphere of Grace, and your pain will be known to them. They will show you the path."
He gestured toward a small orb radiating a soft, pulsing white glow.
Kyle raised an eyebrow. Then, slowly, he reached for the sphere—ignoring the whispers and cautious gasps from the villagers packed behind him.
His fingers closed around the orb, and the instant he made full contact, he felt it: the divine mana trying to invade his core.
