"Alright," Rei said, his voice flat with suspicion. "Go ahead. But first—show us that you literally mean it."
His arms folded across his chest like he was locking himself into restraint, though the glare he aimed at Erasmus was anything but passive. It was like he expected the boy to grow fangs and start speaking in riddles again.
"I don't want to fall into… whatever that is," he added, gesturing to the black, glassy water below, referring to below the deceptive floor leading to who knew what, "Not because you decided to say something poetic again instead of just telling us plainly."
It wasn't the power that Rei questioned. He'd seen more complex and terrifying Creeds demonstrated by his Instructors firsthand—manifestations that bent logic until it bled. Illusions? Child's play by comparison.
No, the Creed wasn't the issue.
The creature wielding it was.
Erasmus—with his twitchy hands, grin too wide for sincerity, and a sermon always tucked somewhere behind his teeth—moved through each trial like a character in a story only he understood. He didn't walk through danger; he danced with it, humming hymns no one else could hear.That was what held Rei back. Not the fear of illusions—but the fear that Erasmus might mean something else entirely when he said "walk."
And that? That made Rei more paranoid than anything.
Because when Erasmus said "walk," who knew what kind of cursed metaphor he might be hiding in his cheerful smile?
His own thoughts turned traitor, lacing the edge of fear with bitter sarcasm.
Rei's mind answered in bitter sarcasm: Wonderful. I died because I ignored every obvious warning sign and followed a kid who should be locked up in a cell padded with his own gospel pages.
Erasmus groaned, throwing his arms up in theatrical exasperation. "Seriously? We don't have time for this!" he cried in that same childlike tone, the one that grated like sand between teeth. "Who knows what could be following us right now? My God, in His merciful brilliance, has probably already taken steps to stop whatever's out there sniffing after us. This is a divine opportunity, and you're wasting it!"
Rei stepped forward, his patience burning like rope set aflame. "For gods' sake," he snapped, "can you drop the act already?! We get it. You're crazy. You don't need to keep showing us how messed up in the head you are. And if you really have something to show us, then show it. Give us a demonstration. It shouldn't be that hard if what you're saying is true."
Erasmus pouted—yes, actually pouted—his lower lip jutting out with indignation. "Fine. Suit yourselves. But when His divine wrath descends upon you for mocking His name, don't blame me. I tried to help. I tried to show you His grace. And how am I repaid? With disrespect. I'm too nice to still be helping you ungrateful people."
Mira raised her hands, palms open in soft apology. "Listen, we didn't mean it tha—"
"Please," Riven interrupted, voice steady and quiet but heavy with meaning. "Understand—we're all desperate to survive. And you, of all people, should understand desperation. You've said it yourself—you're blessed, right? Have mercy on us who don't understand anything."
Rei turned his head sharply. "Hey—"
Riven leaned in, cutting him off with a whisper.
"Just be quiet. When you're dealing with someone like this, the best thing you can do is feed their ego. Appease them. If he's half as unhinged as he acts, poking him won't help."
Then, louder, Riven said, "Please. Continue."
Erasmus gave a little sniff, clearly unconvinced by the sudden politeness, but pleased nonetheless. He tossed his hair with an unnecessary flourish. "Hmph. I guess since someone here still has manners, I'll show you."
He raised one hand, fingers curling as if plucking invisible strings. The air shimmered above them—warped and bleeding at the edges—and then—
—blood.
Thick, dark, and gleaming crimson, it poured from nothing and flowed over the stone platform like a second skin. It didn't splatter. It slid in unnatural silence, covering the ground, rising in a wave that arched high—then broke.
Down it fell.
Straight onto the group.
They flinched—but nothing touched them.
The illusion passed through their bodies like smoke, leaving only a trace of chill in its wake before vanishing completely.
Sir Calden muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple. "Did the kid let his intrusive thoughts win? What the hell is swimming in that head of his?" He shook his head. "Should've seen it coming."
Brin shook off his sleepiness, he murmured, "Can we really trust this kid?"
No one answered.
Rei sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Fine," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll concede. Show us inferior people your divine grace."
Erasmus grinned, as though he'd just been knighted.
He turned toward the pond, stepping to the edge. The black water remained still—an abyss wearing the skin of a mirror.
The False Prophet looked at the unmoving surface and faintly smiled. Then his mind flickered to the crimson forest...
I'll use Weight of Judgment, he thought, to shift reality beneath the illusion. Instead of letting us fall through the false floor, we'll walk on a solidified path. I could just turn the surface of the pond solid… but no. I want to check something first.
Besides, I shouldn't be using this power so freely. Not now. I've felt it—that presence. Ever since I took their memories. Something's been watching me. Waiting.
His mind went back to the crimson repose.
The only reason I've pushed this far is because I needed a way to reach the Court of Faces. I would've stolen more. Information about the Creed system, the structure of their homeland itself… But I barely scratched the surface. Something stopped me. Probably the same entity watching me now.
Fine. Let's see how this plays out.
Then he turned, his voice light and full of cheer. "Alright!" he said, arms outstretched. "I've got the illusion in place. A bridge of belief, courtesy of His Majesty. Let's start getting out of here—before it's too late."