I had no idea where I was going. After leaving the dorm, I simply walked.
The Academy's campus was considerably larger than most people realized. The Academy itself is as large as a major district, with courtyards, training grounds, libraries, classrooms, and specialized facilities scattered between them. I passed several students along the way, but I paid little attention to any of them.
My mind was still stuck on the argument with Toho.
He was right.
I couldn't deny it.
I acted without thinking about what would happen afterward. I had seen that child and immediately wanted to help him, without considering whether I could actually do anything meaningful for him.
But even if Toho was right, I still couldn't convince myself that walking past the boy would have been better.
My thoughts eventually carried me toward the Theology Studies Building.
The large stone structure stood beside the World History Building, both separated from the rest of the Academy by a wide courtyard. The buildings were considerably older than most of the newer facilities, their walls covered in carvings and inscriptions dedicated to the history of Elor and the teachings of The Father.
I had passed this area plenty of times before, but I had never really paid attention to what was nearby.
The Academy's temple stood just beyond the two buildings.
It wasn't particularly large compared to the rest of the Academy, but its white stone exterior and tall arched windows made it difficult to miss. Several students and faculty members occasionally visited throughout the day, although it was considerably quieter than the rest of the campus.
As I walked past, something caught my attention.
Angelic voices leaked out from within the temple, danced into my ear, and sent a wave of bliss. If I hadn't come to my senses quicker, I felt like I would have been lost in the thought for eternity.
A choir was singing inside the temple.
Their voices carried through the open windows, blending together so naturally that I couldn't distinguish one voice from another. The melody was slow and peaceful, accompanied by the faint sound of an organ somewhere inside the building.
The longer I stood there, the quieter my thoughts became. The argument with Toho was still somewhere in the back of my mind, as was Aldren, but the choir's voices seemed to drown everything else out.
Eventually, I stepped inside.
The temple was considerably more beautiful from within. Rows of wooden benches faced a large stone altar at the front of the room. Several stained-glass windows covered the walls, allowing thin streams of colored light to spill across the floor.
I remained near the entrance, not wanting to interrupt.
The choir continued singing for several minutes before their voices gradually faded. The final note lingered through the temple before disappearing completely.
The room became silent.
One of the choir members began walking toward the back while several others gathered their belongings. I remained standing near the entrance, unsure whether I should leave or stay.
A Reverend eventually noticed me.
He was an older man with gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His robes were simple and white with a thin golden pattern running along the edges. A small silver pendant bearing the symbol of the Reverend hung around his neck.
He looked at me for several seconds before approaching.
"Good afternoon," he said warmly. "I don't believe I've seen you here before."
I shook my head.
"No, Reverend. I don't usually come here."
He smiled slightly, admitting a wave of calm over me. "Then perhaps The Father wanted you to find your way here today."
I wasn't sure how to respond to that; however, the Reverend seemed to notice my hesitation.
"Are you alright, young man?"
I looked away.
"I... don't know."
He didn't immediately question me further. Instead, he gestured toward one of the benches.
"Then perhaps you should sit."
I followed him.
We sat several rows away from the altar, with the Reverend keeping a comfortable distance between us. For several moments, neither of us spoke.
Eventually, he turned toward me.
"Would you like to tell me what's troubling you?"
I hesitated.
There were several things I wanted to say, too many, actually. But I couldn't tell him everything. Perhaps I could explain my argument to my best friend, but it's not like I could tell the priest I had killed a man on a mission.
"I did something," I finally said.
The Reverend nodded patiently.
"Something you regret?"
I looked down at my hands.
"I think. Maybe? I don't know."
The Reverend waited, letting me elaborate further. After seeing that I wasn't going to talk, he opened his mouth; however, I decided to speak up.
"It was necessary. At least, I thought it was. Someone was hurting people, and I stopped them."
The Reverend's expression remained calm.
"And you believe you did something wrong by stopping them?"
"I don't know."
I stared toward the altar.
"That's the problem. I know what I did was necessary, but I can't stop thinking about it. I keep remembering what happened, and every time I do, I wonder if I should have done something differently."
The Reverend folded his hands together.
"Was the person you stopped going to hurt someone?"
"Yes."
"Did you have another way to prevent it?"
I remained silent.
"...No."
"Then why do you believe you are guilty?"
I frowned.
"Because someone died," I revealed, careful not to leak that it was the person I stopped. I didn't know the consequences I would face for lying to a Reverend, but I wasn't completely lying. I simply never elaborated on who died.
I scoffed inwardly. I am a bad man...
The Reverend's expression changed slightly, although he didn't appear surprised.
"You believe their death was your fault?"
"I caused it," I looked toward him, "But does that automatically make me a bad person?"
The Reverend didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked toward the altar.
"Tell me something. If a man breaks into a home intending to murder a family, and the father kills the man to protect his children, is that father a murderer?"
I thought about it.
"I'd say no."
"Why?"
"Because he was protecting his family."
"And if the same man killed someone who wasn't threatening anyone?"
"Then that's different."
The Reverend nodded.
"Then perhaps morality isn't as simple as whether blood was spilled. Perhaps what matters is why the blood was spilled, what choices were available, and what you intended to accomplish. The Holy Father's words, the Marion, state the same."
I lowered my eyes.
"But what if someone does something terrible for a good reason?"
The Reverend looked toward me.
"Then they must still accept responsibility for what they have done."
His answer caught me off guard.
He continued before I could respond.
"Good intentions do not erase consequences. The Father does not ask us to pretend evil is good simply because someone believed they were doing the right thing. But neither does He ask us to condemn ourselves simply because we were forced to make an impossible decision."
I remained silent. His words reminded me of Toho.
'You gave him enough money to eat for a couple of days.'
'You didn't change any of that.'
'If you really want to help people, then maybe your attention should be on the source of the problem.'
I clenched my hands together.
"Then why does The Father allow any of this to happen?"
The Reverend looked at me.
"What do you mean?"
"All of it." My voice became quieter, "Hatred. Corruption. Poverty. War. People are constantly killing each other, sometimes for meaningless reasons... they have the audacity to drag children into this as well."
I tried my best to keep my tone neutral and quiet, but anger was radiating off me. The Reverend remained silent.
"If the Father created this world, then why does He allow people to suffer like that? Why would He create people capable of loving one another, then allow them to hate each other just as easily?"
I looked down at the mahogany floorboards of the temple, almost muttering to myself.
"Why would He allow someone like Aldren to exist in the first place?"
The Reverend's eyes narrowed slightly at the unfamiliar name, but he didn't pry into who Aldren was. Catching my slip-up, my eyes widened.
Before I could make up a cover for Aldren's identity, the Reverend's silence was broken.
"Because the Father did not create a world where every choice is made for us."
I frowned, "What does that mean?"
"It means that people have the freedom to choose."
He gestured toward the windows.
"The Father could have created a world where nobody could hate, nobody could steal, nobody could kill, and nobody could betray another person. But if every action were predetermined, then love would mean very little. Kindness would mean very little. Compassion would mean very little.
"The Father, being all-knowing, knew you would kill that bad man you speak about, but He will never intervene to cause the death. It was never predestined in any sort of way.
"The ability to choose good means the ability to choose evil as well. That freedom is one of the greatest gifts given to mankind, but it is also one of our greatest burdens."
I looked down at the floor.
"So we're just supposed to accept it?"
"No," His response came immediately. "We are supposed to oppose it."
I looked back toward him. The Reverend continued.
"You cannot prevent every person from becoming hateful. You cannot feed every starving child. You cannot stop every war. You cannot save every person." He paused, pointing to me, before continuing.
"But that does not mean you should stop trying."
Something about those words settled inside me. I remembered the boy sitting against the wall. I remembered the Irid in my hand. I remembered Toho telling me that I couldn't fix everything.
Perhaps it was true. Perhaps I couldn't fix everything, and maybe I never would. But that didn't mean the boy's suffering suddenly became acceptable.
The Reverend looked at me for several seconds before speaking again.
"You seem like someone who wants to carry the weight of the entire world." The Reverend leaned back against the bench, "Perhaps the lesson you are searching for isn't whether you were right or wrong."
I looked at him.
"Then what is it?"
"Perhaps it is understanding that doing the right thing does not always feel good."
I remained silent.
"You may save someone and still feel terrible afterward. You may make the correct decision and still wish you had another choice. You may even make a mistake while trying to do what you believe is right." He smiled faintly. "Being troubled by your actions does not necessarily mean you are evil, Zero."
My eyes widened slightly. I hadn't told him my name. The Reverend chuckled when he saw my expression.
"Your Academy uniform has your name written on it."
I glanced down, letting out a pathetic chuckle, "Oh, right."
The Reverend stood from the bench and adjusted his robes.
"You don't have to have all the answers today. No one does."
I remained seated for another moment. The weight in my chest hadn't disappeared completely. Neither had my memories of Aldrenm, but perhaps they weren't supposed to.
I slowly stood, thanking the Reverend with a grateful smile. The Reverend nodded before leaving me with his final words.
"You're welcome. And remember something... helping one person doesn't require you to save the entire world. But don't let the fact that you can't save everyone stop you from saving the person standing in front of you."
I stared at him for several seconds.
"...I'll remember that."
I turned toward the entrance, leaving the temple behind me.
For the first time that day, my thoughts about Aldren didn't feel quite as suffocating. I still didn't know whether what I had done was right. All I knew was that it was life or death.
I still didn't know whether I deserved forgiveness.
But perhaps I didn't need to answer those questions today.
For now, I simply needed to keep moving.