Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 18: Walk Through The Town But Wait...

Lont was already bustling with activity as I made my way from Cain's place. The city was a machine in motion, gears turning as merchants unfurled their canopies, artisans opened their shops, and workers trudged through the cobbled streets toward their posts. The scent of fresh bread curled through the morning air, mingling with the sharp bite of iron from the smithies. Street criers called out the latest news, their voices competing with the distant chime of the city bells marking the early hour.

Cain's estate sat high in the upper district, a place of order and wealth so the area I found myself In was quite nice, obviously nothing like I am used to. The roads were smooth, paved with polished stone.

As I walked into the market I could almost feel the early morning energy. Merchants called out their products enticing passerby's to look at their latest trinket, voices rising in a chorus of shouts, bartering, and laughter.

The scent of sizzling meat drifted through the air, mingling with the sharp tang of spiced wine and the earthy musk of fresh produce. A butcher's stall displayed thick slabs of cured venison, the rich red meat glistening under the morning sun. Nearby, a fishmonger gutted a massive silver-scaled leviathan with practiced efficiency, his knife flashing as he tossed unwanted scraps to a trio of waiting street dogs.

Silken robes and sturdy leathers hung from wooden racks, their vibrant colors catching the light, while traders from the southern reaches of the Empire haggled over the price of rare spices in a version of English so fucked up it honestly could have been a new language. A blacksmith, his face streaked with soot, pounded a fresh blade against his anvil, the ringing steel a rhythmic counter to the chaos of the crowd.

As I strode through the streets, the crowd shifted around me. Conversations hushed. Heads turned. Eyes locked onto mine, then darted away just as quickly, as if afraid to linger too long. The people here knew what my inhuman violet eyes were. What the black robe signified. Their movements became subtle yet precise stepping aside just enough to clear my path, backs straightening, heads dipping in acknowledgment. Not quite fear, but something close.

As I moved deeper into the market, the ebb and flow of the crowd continued to shift around me, people parting instinctively to give me space. Just minutes ago, a child had nearly stumbled into me, but this time, one actually did. A boy, no older than seven, ran straight into my side, bouncing off and landing on the dusty ground with a soft thud.

His parents froze. Their faces drained of all color as they scrambled to pull him away, their hands shaking as they clutched his small frame to their chests. The father opened his mouth, probably to beg, but no words came. The mother looked one breath away from collapsing.

I sigh in exasperation this newfound sense of importance placed onto me is starting to get annoying "Relax, It's fine no harm done," I muttered dryly, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve. My words only made their fear spike further likely mistaking my annoyance of their Elite treatment as anger towards the small child running into me.

The father dropped to his knees, the mother following a second later, pressing the boy's head down as they both bowed low, their shoulders trembling.

My senses stretched out instinctively, picking up the frantic pounding of their hearts, the sharp scent of fear clinging to them like sweat. It was suffocating.

"P-please, my Lord, h-he's just a child," the man stammered, his voice shaking like someone who'd had too much to drink.

I didn't even look at him. "It's fine just a simple mistake," I said loudly with a cold indifference that I didn't feel. " You can all go now'

As I turned to leave, a sudden commotion behind me made me pause. Three inquisitors burst through the small gaggle of onlookers, their dark robes billowing as they shoved aside merchants and commoners alike. Their hoods were down and their boots struck the ground with practiced authority, hands resting on the hilts of their weapons as their eyes scanned the scene. It didn't take them long to lock onto the family still scraping the dirt in front of me.

One of them, a man with sharp features and a hard-set jaw, stepped forward. "Awakened," he addressed me with a stiff bow of the head. "Are you alright?" His gaze flicked between me and the kneeling family, suspicion clear in his stance.

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The second inquisitor, a woman with short-cropped hair and cold, calculating eyes, tilted her head. "Your name, Awakened?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I exhaled through my nose, crossing my arms. "Ayato Daath," I said lazily before gesturing at the cowering parents and their wide-eyed child. "And yes, I'm fine. A small child isn't exactly a threat to me. Or do you think I'm that fragile hmm?" I sneer.

The inquisitors didn't immediately respond. Their eyes lingered on the family for a beat longer before shifting back to me, waiting, perhaps, for a command. Or permission.

Then female inquisitor's eyes suddenly widened, her posture going rigid as realization struck. "Blessed be Aren," she breathed, taking a half step back. "That name Ayato Daath. You're the three-mark bearer the first one ever. Bishop Lark told us about you months ago."

At her words, the other two inquisitors stiffened, their expressions shifting from professional detachment to shock then euphoric as if they couldn't believe their luck. Without hesitation, all three dropped to one knee, fists pressed over their hearts.

"Child of Light," they intoned in unison, heads bowed.

A ripple of movement spread through the gathered crowd. Whispers filled the air as the onlookers, hesitating for only a moment, followed the inquisitors' lead. The murmurs turned into hurried obedience as men and women knelt, pressing their foreheads to the dirt in deference.

I blinked in utter shock, staring down at them, baffled beyond belief. "Oh, for fuck's sake," I curse under my breath, rubbing a hand down my face. "What in the absolute FUCK is this?"

I stared at the sea of bowed heads, my jaw tightening as irritation curled in my gut. "What the hell are you all doing?" My voice cut through the murmuring crowd like a knife.

The lead inquisitor lifted her head, her face alight with worship. "Elites deserve respect and obedience as those chosen by the Divine," she said, as if stating the obvious. "But you... You were specially blessed by the Divine Light itself."

One of the others, still kneeling, nodded eagerly. "For hundreds of years us in the order theorized and argued the possibility of a three or even four mark bearer appearing, proof of the Divine's will manifesting in its purest form. Some said it was impossible for a mortal to bear that much power as no soul could withstand the strain that three or more marks of power would bring on the human soul. But now, here you stand before us—a living testament to the truth that the divine moves in mysterious ways." "You signify great change to the world my Lord"

My hands curled into fists at my sides, heat bubbling beneath my skin from sheer, unfiltered hate. The Inquisitors. The very people I despised. The ones who tore my life apart, who upheld this wretched system, were now kneeling before me like I was some sort of saint sent to lead them to the holy lands.

The irony was enough to make me choke on it. I took a few deep breaths trying to calm myself down but when I looked back at the sea of kneeling fools their heads bowed into the dirt I couldn't help myself. The Hate in my heart surged, sharp, intoxicating, almost as fast and as harsh as a hit of Shine to an addict.

That's when the whispers started.