M-my name is Lloyd. Lloyd Hunt. Not a surprise for you, right ? Every ordinary person has an ordinary name. My parents are low-ranking nobles. Not poor enough to beg in the alleys of Black-Water, but poor enough to still be in debt from buying our apartment in White-Church. Like most children from good families, I attended the military academy. I became a soldier, but didn't rise through the ranks. Not talented enough for that, nor motivated enough. Apparently, to get promoted, you either have to prove yourself during S-class hunts or have the support of powerful figures. Well, we know what happened to Lord Roy. Sometimes even powerful people have to prove themselves. I'm not really interested in that. You might say I could have become an adventurer, since even with a low level of Forge, you can find lucrative contracts if you know where to look. Unfortunately, adventurers are lawless mercenaries, and I would have been cheated out of my money as soon as I joined a guild.

  Ah! You think I'm pathetic, huh? You're right. I just want to live a decent life, get married and have children. Is that so despicable?

  I was among those present when the Chosen appeared in the throne room. The Pope had ordered the cathedral doors closed a few hours earlier and gathered around fifty soldiers of various ranks in the great hall. How he knew that the Chosen would materialize at that precise moment, no one will ever know. He said he had been touched by divine grace. Some of my comrades believe that it was the Clockmaker who had whispered the information to him.

  In any case, if we had any doubts about the divine purity of our savior before, the moment he lit up the cathedral with his light put an end to our disillusionment. There, blessing the walls with his splendor, he convinced us: the Chosen is indeed the champion of the gods.

  Lloyd was lucky: he was the one assigned to escort the Chosen to the council chamber. It was incredible that, in addition to being one of the witnesses to his appearance, he was assigned such an important task. Captain Hope had expressly ordered that the Chosen be kept under close surveillance. Currently in his quarters, he was being pampered by servants who washed and changed him. Soon, he would have an audience with the Pope to officially seal his commitment to the land of Atlantís.

  How exciting! The Chosen descended among humans once every 2 to 8 centuries, to help humanity prosper. It had been exactly 206 years since the last one had set foot on Atlantis, so today was a day of celebration!

  Lloyd had always fought minor monsters, so his level of skill was only suitable for guard duty or surveillance of the city. He wondered if, as the rumors said, a Chosen could really defeat S-rank monsters with ease.

  “Lloyd? Are you here for the Chosen?”

  “Yes, the Pope is waiting for him. Is he presentable?”

  Jude, assigned to guard the hero's quarters, made him wait in the hallway while he checked. A few minutes later, numerous servants rushed out of the room, followed by Jude and finally by a tall, dark-haired man dressed in a white tunic adorned with a golden cape embroidered with the white symbol of the Church : the Ankh, the divine cross. He was the first to address Lloyd, with a polite smile.

  “Hello, I was told you wanted to see me.”

  Not expecting to be directly addressed by the great one, Lloyd stammered.

  “Y-yes. The Pope is expecting you. So is my Captain. And the Council. And... and well, some important people and... never mind. Please follow me.”

  Lloyd guessed that if Jude's face hadn't been hidden by his helmet, a desperate expression would have been visible. The Chosen didn't seem bothered by his pathetic response and followed him through the immense corridors of the cathedral. At this hour, they were empty. If Lloyd had been asked his opinion, he would have said that he had always found it strange that the cathedral had so many winding corridors and rooms. After all, most of the pontifical soldiers were housed in the east of the city, within the military academy. The cathedral, apart from the servants who maintained it, the prisoners in the basement, and the Pope and his council, didn’t house much else. Perhaps it was a way for the bigwigs to impress the Chosen every time he descended from the sky. After all, this was always where the Gods sent him, so it was important to make a good impression from the start.

  “It's really white here. It looks like a glass castle. Don't you get lost sometimes?”

  “N-no, my Lord. I'm used to it.”

  “You can call me Gabriel. My Lord is a bit...”

  “I would never dare! You are the Chosen !”

  The man laughed behind his back, prompting Lloyd to turn around. He wore a relaxed expression. Legends spoke of him as a being more impressive than the sky. Lloyd would never have pictured him to be kind or pleasant, let alone gentle. Yet the Chosen managed to combine all three qualities at once. It was hard to imagine him fighting monsters. In general, tenderness equaled a low Forge level. That was why adventurers were usually unsavory characters : they needed it to increase their Forge. They threw themselves into battle without thinking, aiming to amass experience and atlas rather than to actually help others, which was why their contracts often consisted of dark works that pontifical officers wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole.

  “Don't be silly. Mr. God told me I had to save you from a great peril. He didn't ask me to rule over you.”

  “R-right. But you're still the Chosen, so...”

  The hero quickened his pace so that he was walking side by side with Lloyd. Innocently, he said:

  “Understood. I won't insist. My associates have always had trouble abandoning formalities too, it seems that no matter where I go, I find myself unable to break the distance. I don't mind, though.”

  The Chosen paused thoughtfully before continuing.

  "They didn't explain much to me when I arrived. Nothing at all, in fact. They just escorted me straight to a room to wash me. The servants weren't very talkative, so maybe I can ask you, before we get to the important people: did you take in anyone else after I arrived? A woman, for example? Short, brunette with a mean look?"

  Lloyd thought for a moment.

  “No, I don't think so. You should ask the Council, though. I'm just a simple soldier, I'm not privy to that kind of news.”

  He added the last sentence more to reassure his interlocutor than out of real conviction. In fact, everyone knew everything around here one way or another; soldiers drank up rumors like milk. But the Chosen looked so disappointed with the answer that he didn't have the heart to tell him the whole truth. It was funny, though : this man didn't seem to know how to lie. Everything was written on his face: excitement at the sight of the cathedral's endless corridors, sadness when he was told news he didn't like... Lloyd, wanting to divert attention, changed the subject.

  “Tell me, is it true that you don't need the Forge to fight?”

  “The what?”

  “The- Ah. Right. Another world.”

  He would have thought that all worlds possessed the Forge, however. Stopping in his tracks, Lloyd pressed his thumb on the button located on his index finger. His spear materialized in his gloved hand under the man's astonished gaze. A resigned amusement overwhelmed him when he realized that this was the first time anyone had looked at his shabby bronze weapon with wonder.

  After all, the Forge, a technology that allowed a weapon linked to its wielder to become sharper and more powerful with combat experience, reflected a soldier's hierarchical importance or, in the case of an adventurer, their striking power. For anyone else, a bronze or copper weapon reflected ranks D and C respectively, the most commonplace of the Forge wielders. For the Chosen, however, it was a pure miracle, judging by his excited exclamation.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Magic! Incredible! It appeared out of nowhere! How does it work? Will I be able to do that too? Oh, do you fight with it? Against what? An evil empire? Necromancers? Are you more of a tank or a DPS, tell me?”

  Despite the fact that he was the armed one of the two, Lloyd took a few steps back. The Chosen's optimism made him uncomfortable. Probably because most of his questions didn't make any sense. Realizing that his behavior wasn’t healthy for a grown man, let alone one who had the fate of humanity on his shoulders, the Chosen took a step back and cleared his throat.

  “Sorry. I tend to get carried away when it comes to RPGs.”

  Pause.

  "Ah. But I guess it's not really one. Since, well, I'm in it. Gosh, it's so confusing. A few hours ago, we were on our way to our parents' house for Sunday dinner, and boom, we died. And then, boom again, I find myself here after a conversation with a tattooed jackal. I would have liked to pet his head, but I didn't have time to ask him if I could. He looked so fluffy. Ah. On the one hand, it suits me to be here. I wasn't looking forward to tomorrow's meeting at all! They're all there asking me this and that... while the game isn't progressing! I'm not even in the creative process, even though I have so many ideas... I wanted to quit, you know? Start another video game company on my own. Yes, that would have been nice... Oh. I won't have the chance now, will I?"

  If a glance could make the sun cry, then this would be this one. The blue of his eyes became darker than the abyss of a starless night. The Chosen suddenly seemed to realize his situation.

  “I'll never see Dad and Mom again. And my friends, George, Chloe... and the pretty baker...”

  …

  …

  “I didn't say goodbye.”

  Lloyd dematerialized his spear. Awkwardly, he stepped forward. Right. The Chosen ones all had lives before this one. Literally, they abandoned the light of one universe for the darkness of this one. Rather than reassuring him about his situation or even directly answering his questions and helping him adapt, the Pope had preferred to have the Chosen washed to make him presentable. Lloyd wondered if, by seeing him only for his title, the Gods themselves had forgotten that their champion was a person.

  “You know, I grew up with stories about the Chosen. Thanks to your predecessors, humanity has been able to evolve into what it is today. Every day, my comrades and I pray that we will finally be able to reconquer the beyond of Atlantis. The demons from outside will soon break down the walls, it's only a matter of time now. As for the monsters, they are becoming more numerous and organized within our own country. Everyone knows that humanity is in great danger. We live in fear because we are surrounded by enemies: both outside and inside our territory. Leaving the walls means never returning. Venturing alone and unarmed outside the cities also means never returning. I have lost friends, comrades in arms, because of raids that went wrong. I always cry when I hear the news. But never, ever, have I doubted for a moment that the Chosen would one day come to save us. You are our hope, our sun. So please, share a little of your light with yourself. There is no reason why you shouldn't enjoy it too."

  The hero remained silent for a long moment. Lloyd knew it was inappropriate to speak like this when his opinion hadn’t been sought. Yet the man facing him drank in his words as if he were his equal, an important brother in arms whose wisdom surpassed that of the elders. The Chosen's face was filled with painful gratitude, which made Lloyd's heart beat faster.

  “Thank you.”

  That was his only response. Perhaps he would have liked to add something else. But the arrival of the Captain of the western section interrupted the moment.

  The clatter of heeled boots echoed down the hallway. The silver metal of her armor sparkled, making her long golden cape appear to fly. Even from a distance, Captain Hope looked immense. Her long red hair, streaked with white, marking her forties, protruded from her helmet. She never removed it, but rumors said that her eyes were a forest green capable of turning the head of the most hardened drunkard. Even today, minstrels sang more of Lucilia Hope's vestal beauty than her military exploits. Yet anyone under her command knew that it was unwise to bring up her feminine attributes in public. As severe as she was beautiful, her coldness was matched only by her harshness on the battlefield. Her Forge level had been stuck at rank A for about ten years now. Yet several witnesses had seen her defeat S-rank monsters with ease. Among the new recruits, Captain Hope's exploits were more often the stuff of horror stories than epic tales. But that, too, was best not mentioned in front of her.

  Lloyd stood at attention well before the Captain reached them. Although the Chosen was a well-built man, he was at least a head shorter than her. Lloyd had been taught to treat the Chosen one with reverence if he ever had the chance to walk the same ground as him. Yet Captain Hope offered him only a slight nod of the head in greeting. Her icy voice rang out from beneath her metal helmet:

  “I've been looking for you. Soldier Hunt, you're late. The Council is growing impatient.”

  Lloyd didn't have time to stammer out a lame excuse before the hero interjected.

  “It must be my fault. I spent a lot of time talking to him. They didn't explain much to me when I arrived.”

  In his place, suddenly teleported into the middle of a vast room where fifty pairs of eyes surrounded him, Lloyd would have felt like a circus freak. He might have cried as he was escorted without a word into a room he knew nothing about. The Chosen didn’t seem to blame the way he had been treated. But given the underlying reproach he directed at Captain Hope, he still realized that the respect due to his status hadn’t been shown.

  “Explanations will come in due course. Now follow me, you've wasted enough time as it is.”

  She really was the only one who could treat a hero like a disruptive child. Lloyd shuddered when she nodded at him.

  “As for you, Hunt, I'll ask you to take over guard duty in the Chosen's quarters until he returns from the meeting. It won't be too difficult a job for you, will it?”

  Lloyd prayed she wouldn't see him grimace under his helmet. Basically, he was going to take over from Jude and stand guard in an unoccupied room that no one would pass by. He guessed that after that, Captain Hope had a few punishments in store for him that only she knew about, all because he hadn't guided the Chosen quickly enough for her liking. He just hoped that this time it wouldn't be cleaning the latrines of the basement. He didn't waste any time watching them leave for the Council chamber and headed straight for his post.

  Several long hours passed before the Chosen finally emerged from a corridor. Lloyd stood at attention, causing the hero to chuckle.

  “No need for that with me. We spoke earlier, after all.”

  Lloyd was flattered that despite his unfamiliarity with the papal guard's armor, the Chosen recognized him. Usually, citizens couldn't tell the difference between soldiers, as their uniforms covered both their bodies and their faces. Only high-ranking officers, such as Captain Hope, or special soldiers, such as Lord Roy, stood out because of their differently designed armor.

  “Are you alone? Did no one escort you?”

  “Yes, to the end of the corridor. But the soldier who was escorting me was called away on urgent business. So I finished the journey alone, he showed me where to go.”

  Lloyd nodded. He was surprised that the most important figure of the world had been left alone. Later, he would learn that a huge mobilization of soldiers had taken place following the unexpected arrival of an S-type earth monster, the famous northern wolf, in the forest overlooking the city. But at that moment, in his ignorance, Lloyd preferred to focus on the Chosen, whose slumped shoulders betrayed his weariness.

  “So, did you learn anything interesting at that meeting?”

  “Fire types have weak eyes, air types have weak backs, water types have weak mouths, and earth types have weak legs.”

  “...Huh?”

  The Chosen smiled wearily. He sat down against the door of his quarters, a few inches away from Lloyd, who remained standing. His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

  "The Pope told me about the misery humans have endured for centuries. The moment they leave the cities, if they are not equipped, monsters attack them. That is why the Forge was created. That is also why, in order to enable humanity to finally spread its wings, reconquer Atlantis, and make the world habitable again, the Chosen is called upon."

  Silence. Then:

  "But the monsters are becoming increasingly virulent and numerous. They are becoming better organized in order to thwart human technological advances, like moths gnawing away at wood. That... that I understand. And I also understand that we absolutely must hunt them to gain more power, so that we can finally fight the demons outside and conquer the lands beyond Atlantis. The situation is complex, because we are surrounded by terrible enemies. It's up to me to help you get rid of them once and for all."

  Lloyd tilted his head to one side.

  “But you already knew that, didn't you? Is there a problem?”

  The Chosen continued to stare into space.

  "No. I just realized, during this whole conversation, that I was useful to their cause. That I was nothing more than that. When I finally got a word in, because your superiors seem to love listening to themselves talk for hours on end, I understood one thing: I will never see my sister again. They don't care about her, or me. Or my desire to see her again."

  He bit his lip.

  "Marie is the only one who... she never expected anything from me, you know? She was my haven of peace when I felt overwhelmed by responsibility. She always welcomed me without question when I came to her house after work, exhausted. She would just make me a hot chocolate and give me a blanket. That's all. She didn't care that I wasn't up to the task, she was just there. Always. But... today I have to save the world. Without her. I... ah. Sorry, you must find me annoying talking about my feelings, right?"

  “What?! No, not at all! Not at all!”

  Lloyd thought quickly. He hadn’t been trained for this kind of situation and was exceeding the limits imposed by his profession, but he decided that for once in his life, he would show courage:

  “You know, you are the Chosen. A great task awaits you but you are strong. You have the strenght to fight S-rank monsters and go beyond the walls of Atlantis to face the demons. Nothing is impossible for you.”

  Joyless laughter.

  “Yes. It seems I have great powers. Ahaha...ah.”

  “Nothing is impossible for you! Not even finding your sister… right? I mean, you're almost a god!”

  The Chosen raised his head toward Lloyd and looked at him as if he were seeing him for the first time. His eyes reflected the azure sky of a new day, where only space could stop its boundaries. Lloyd only saw the Chosen once or twice after that, as he had been assigned to guard the city gates at night. Yet he knew, deep down, that his words had struck a chord. For whenever rumors spoke of Lord Gabriel, there was never any mention of a man plagued by doubt or hesitation. No. They spoke of a fearless warrior, radiant, with a dazzling smile.

  There you go. You won't get anything more out of me. I'm not a friend of the Chosen, I'm not a high-ranking officer. Nobody cares about me, and I only heard about his adventures from afar. You say you're his sister, right? If that's true, then what are you doing with the monsters? Go back to the Chosen, he'll protect you from danger- AH?! MY ARM? MY ARM?! IT'S BURNING! Stop it, please! You! No, please, stop, stop! I'm going to die, I'm going to die-

  O Chosen one, our Pantheon has chosen you, but whom will you choose? - The Truths of Djehuty