The Twice-blessed Paladin

Aldric stands amidst the wreckage of the ritual chamber, his greatsword dripping with black ichor. The last echoes of the Veilborn Priest's warning still linger in the cold air.

"The Unseen Father has taken an interest in you."

Across the room, the woman he rescued—Elira—remains curled near the stone altar, her hands still trembling from the horror she has witnessed.

The air is thick with the stench of unnatural death. The torchlight flickers as if reluctant to stay lit.

Elira finally forces herself to speak.

"Wh… what were they?" Her voice is hoarse, raw from screaming.

Aldric looks down at the remnants of the cultists, their bodies half-dissolved, limbs twisted in death.

"Not men," he says. "Not anymore."

She swallows, staring at the dark pools of ichor that refuse to soak into the stone. "They—they took so many people. What if there are others?"

Aldric's grip tightens on his sword.

"There are."

She looks up at him, her fear shifting to something else—desperation.

"You… you have to stop them."

Aldric nods once. "I will."

But then, Elira does something unexpected.

She reaches out, grabbing his armored hand with both of hers.

"How?" she whispers. "How did you fight them? What was that light? That… darkness?"

Aldric studies her carefully.

She saw everything. The way his holy radiance burned them away. The way his deathly power drained them to husks.

He could lie. Could dismiss it as magic, as skill.

But he does not.

Because this is the moment.

Another chance to spread their names.

"Another seed of faith to be planted."

He kneels before her, his voice steady.

"I am a knight of two gods," he says. "The Radiant Dawn, the god of life and light, and the Veiled Reaper, the god of death and endings. They were once worshiped by many. But now… the world has forgotten them."

Elira's brow furrows. "Two gods? But—there's only the Celestial Church. The Four Aspects."

Aldric shakes his head. "No. There were others before them. And they have not abandoned us."

Elira swallows, clearly struggling to process everything. "Then why are they helping you?"

Aldric meets her gaze.

"Because I am bringing their names back into this world."

She is silent for a long moment.

Then she whispers, "Are they watching now?"

Aldric closes his eyes for a moment.

"Always."

Then he stands.

"We must go. You will be my witness."

Elira nods slowly, still shaken but determined.

And together, they leave the darkness of the cult's lair behind.

Far beyond mortal sight, two divine beings stand in uneasy silence.

The Radiant Dawn, god of life, gazes down at the world below, his expression hardened with worry.

Beside him, the Veiled Reaper lounges as if unaffected, his many eyes gleaming with amusement.

"This could be a problem," the Radiant Dawn says.

The Veiled Reaper smirks. "Oh? I thought you liked problems."

The Radiant Dawn's golden eyes flash. "You know what I mean. The Unseen Father has noticed Aldric. This is not just another cult. This is a god's gaze upon him."

The Reaper exhales dramatically. "Yes, yes. And now we shall see how our champion fares under divine scrutiny."

The Radiant Dawn clenches a fist. "If the Unseen Father claims him—"

"He won't," the Reaper interrupts. His grin fades slightly. "Not yet. But he is walking the edge of a blade."

They both watch as Aldric and Elira ride toward Gildan's Reach.

The Reaper tilts his head, voice softer than before. "You know what I find most amusing?"

The Radiant Dawn says nothing.

The Reaper smiles. "Aldric does not even realize how much of a threat he has become."

And in the mortal world, the Twice-Blessed Knight rides toward the city, unaware of the war already stirring.

The city walls loom ahead, tall and foreboding in the early dawn. The guards at the gate barely glance at Aldric, too used to adventurers returning at odd hours.

But they do notice Elira.

Her torn dress. Her pale, haunted expression.

One of the guards, a young man with tired eyes, steps forward. "Miss, are you all right?"

Elira grips Aldric's arm. "I need to speak to the guild."

The guard hesitates, looking between her and Aldric. "What happened?"

Aldric's voice is cold as steel. "Tell your superiors that a cult is operating within this city. And that I have proof."

The guards exchange uneasy glances.

Then one of them nods sharply.

"I'll send word ahead."

Aldric and Elira push forward, heading directly to the guild.

The Gildan's Reach Adventurer's Guild is already awake, bustling with activity. Warriors and mages pour over quest boards, merchants negotiate contracts, clerks sort through endless paperwork.

But the moment Aldric steps inside, the noise dies down.

Eyes turn toward him.

His armor is still streaked with black ichor.

Elira's face is pale with terror.

They look like they came back from hell itself.

At the front desk, the Guildmaster of Gildan's Reach, Veylan Marthos, lifts his gaze.

A former mercenary turned administrator, Veylan is a towering man with a scar running across his bald head. Unlike Black Hollow's guildmaster, he is not a warrior of honor—he is a man of survival. A man who knows how to play the game of power.

His sharp gray eyes narrow as Aldric approaches.

"You look like you've seen something unpleasant," Veylan says, voice gravelly.

Aldric does not waste time.

"I found the source of the disappearances," he says. "A cult beneath the ruined chapel outside the city."

Murmurs spread through the guild hall.

Veylan's gaze does not waver. "A cult?"

Aldric steps aside, gesturing to Elira.

"She was to be their next sacrifice."

Veylan's gaze shifts to her. "Is this true?"

Elira nods, her hands clenched into fists. "They—they took people. Tortured them. Sacrificed them. I saw things—things that shouldn't exist!"

Veylan leans forward. "And the cultists?"

Aldric's voice is cold. "Dead."

Veylan tilts his head. "All of them?"

Aldric meets his gaze without flinching. "For now."

Silence.

Then Veylan leans back in his chair.

"You do realize what you're saying, don't you?" he says. "If what you claim is true… then this is bigger than just disappearances."

Aldric nods. "It is. And there will be more of them."

Veylan exhales, rubbing his temples. "The city officials will want a full report. We'll have to tread carefully. The wrong word, and this will turn into a witch hunt."

Aldric crosses his arms. "And if we do nothing, more will die."

Veylan meets his gaze.

Then he smirks. "You're going to be a problem, aren't you?"

Aldric does not smile. "For them."

Veylan chuckles darkly. "Good."

He waves a hand. "Go clean yourself up. We'll deal with the nobles soon enough."

As Aldric and Elira step away, the murmurs in the guild grow louder.