Chapter 11: Trinity Church

Isaac stared blankly ahead, his voice trembling as he whispered, “How did I… get into this life? Why, God… why me?”

“Hey, lad, wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!” shouted a gruff voice.

Isaac jolted awake, flabbergasted. “Huh? Where am I?”

“Wow, Mark,” came a sarcastic reply from Candra nearby, “how ungentlemanly of you.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “You’re right, Candra. A true gentleman wouldn’t shout at a kid while driving.”

“Sure, whatever,” Candra said with a smirk. She turned her gaze to Isaac. “So, kid—I mean, Isaac—you good?”

“I… I don’t know,” Isaac muttered, still disoriented.

Candra tilted her head, studying him. “Okay. How’s life been treating you?”

Mark shook his head in disbelief. “No way you just asked that question, Candra.”

Isaac shrugged, unsure how to respond. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“It’s fine,” Candra said with a shrug. “Just tell us about your life so far. You look like, what… sixteen?”

“Candra,” Mark said nervously, “it’s considered rude to—”

“Nah, it’s fine, Mark. Go ahead, Isaac.”

Isaac’s shoulders slumped as his voice dropped. “My dad just died. My best friend turned into a monster and disappeared. And all my friends... they got eaten by demons.”

The car fell silent.

Candra let out a long, drawn-out “Ohhhhhh.” Her expression tightened. “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have asked that.”

Mark coughed awkwardly, his tone shifting. “Hey, uh, look at that—we’ve arrived at our destination! Let’s, uh… get to work.”

The car pulled to a stop in front of an old, abandoned church. Isaac peered out the window, confusion creasing his brow.

“This… is it?” he asked. “You said we were going to some Trinity Church or something. This place looks like it’s falling apart.”

“Hey!” Candra snapped, crossing her arms. “Put some respect on that name. It’s called the Holy Church of Trinity. Don’t forget.”

Mark placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “Settle down, Candra.” He looked at Isaac with a faint smile. “You know, a church isn’t just a building, lad. It’s a group of people sharing their faith with each other. I hope you’ll come to understand that.”

Candra nodded in agreement, albeit begrudgingly. “He’s right. But to be fair, you’re not entirely wrong, either.”

“What do you mean?” Isaac asked.

Mark chuckled. “This rundown church? It’s actually the entrance to the real Holy Church of Trinity.”

Isaac blinked. “Really? How does it open?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Mark stepped forward, his expression shifting to one of quiet determination. He raised his right arm and closed his eyes. A green aura began to shimmer around him, the energy building as he uttered a single word: “Paqach.”

A glowing door materialized before the group, its ethereal light casting a soft glow across the ruins.

Isaac’s jaw dropped. “How did you…?”

Candra grinned smugly. “Pretty cool, right?”

As the group prepared to step through the mystical entrance, Isaac hesitated.

“Wait,” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can go with you guys.”

Candra groaned. “You’re kidding me, right? We came all this way, and now you’re chickening out?”

“Candra, quiet!” Mark snapped. “Let him speak.”

Isaac clenched his fists. “If I go through that door, I’ll have to face it all over again, won’t I? The monsters, the demons… everything. You probably only brought me here so I could hunt them, right? If I say yes, then that night at the club will just be my new normal. Right? Right?!”

Mark sighed heavily. “Isaac, you’re still a kid. You don’t know any better yet. Because of who your father was, I keep forgetting that.” He placed a firm hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “Everything you’ve seen is just the beginning. It’s only going to get harder.”

Isaac’s voice cracked as he asked, “Then what’s the point? I don’t want to go through it again. I can’t.”

Mark’s gaze hardened. “The demons already know about you, Isaac. That’s why they sent one to the hospital. They did the same to Sister Lilith.”

Isaac’s eyes widened. “Sister Lily… she’s gone, too?”

Mark nodded solemnly. “You have two choices. One: we can help you build a new life, give you a fresh start. Two: you can come with us, train to be a priest, and fight back.”

Isaac hesitated, his thoughts racing. He clenched his fists tightly as the memories of his losses flooded his mind: his father, Sister Lily, Vanessa, the orphans… Shiki.

“They took everything from me,” he whispered, his voice growing stronger. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Blue flames erupted around Isaac, flickering with an intensity born of resolve.

Mark’s eyes widened. “Holy fire. That’s your element.” He smirked. “So, you’ve made your choice, lad?”

Isaac nodded, his gaze steady. “I’ll become a priest. I’ll hunt demons. I’ll make them pay.”

Together, the group stepped through the glowing doorway, the future uncertain but the resolve unshakable.

The blinding light of the glowing doorway faded, and Isaac squinted as his eyes adjusted to the new surroundings. He blinked rapidly, his breath catching in his throat.

“Ahhh! It’s so bright!” Isaac exclaimed. “Are we there yet?”

Mark chuckled. “Relax, lad. Yes, we’re here. You can stop shielding your eyes now.”

Isaac lowered his hand, his jaw dropping in awe as he took in the grandeur of the space before him. The interior of the Holy Church of Trinity was nothing like the dilapidated building above. Golden light bathed the vast, cathedral-like hall, reflecting off intricate carvings and massive stained-glass windows that depicted scenes of battles between humans and demons.

“Wow…” Isaac whispered. “It’s so… gold here.”

Candra snorted. “What does that even mean, ‘so gold here’?”

Isaac gestured vaguely. “You know. It’s… shiny.”

Mark laughed. “The lad means the place looks like it’s made of gold. Give him a break.”

Candra rolled her eyes. “Great. Now you’re a poet, too?”

“Why, thank you,” Mark said with mock pride. “I do consider myself somewhat of a wordsmith.”

Candra groaned. “Does this guy not know what sarcasm is?”

Mark smirked. “Sarcasm, my dear Candra, is just a lazy way of admitting the truth.”

“Ugh, just ignore me,” she snapped.

“Gladly,” Mark said, turning to Isaac. “Come on, lad. Let’s show you your new home.”

Mark led the way deeper into the church, opening a large set of double doors. Inside, rows of individuals dressed in pristine white robes knelt in silent prayer before a weathered wooden cross. The air was heavy with a sense of peace and power, an energy that made Isaac’s chest tighten.

Isaac slowed his steps, his gaze fixed on the cross. A strange warmth spread through him, calming and unnerving at the same time. “This place…” he murmured. “It feels… warm. Like I could relax forever.”

Mark nodded knowingly. “That’s the divinity you’re feeling. It’s a sensation that never gets old.”

“It’s beautiful,” Isaac said softly.

“It is,” Mark agreed. “But don’t get too comfortable. There’s work to be done.”

As Isaac turned to follow Mark and Candra again, he noticed a towering figure standing at the far end of the hall. The man’s presence was impossible to ignore—his very being seemed to radiate authority and power.

“Who’s that?” Isaac asked, pointing.

Mark squinted, his expression shifting to one of disbelief. “Wait… is that Arch Priest Father Iziaha?!”

Candra gasped. “Father Iziaha? What’s he doing here?”

“Is he not supposed to be here?” Isaac asked, confused.

Mark shook his head. “It’s not that he can’t be here. It’s just rare. Arch Priests don’t usually leave their posts unless it’s for something… significant.”

Isaac shivered as the massive figure turned toward them. The weight of his presence was almost unbearable, like standing under the shadow of a mountain.

“His presence…” Isaac murmured. “It’s overwhelming. Like it’s filling the entire church.”

“That’s divinity,” Mark said quietly. “Arch Priests have an abundance of it. It can be… menacing.”

Before Isaac could ask more, the towering man was suddenly standing in front of them, moving with an impossible speed and grace that left Isaac stunned.

“Hello, children,” Father Iziaha said, his deep voice resonating through the hall.

Isaac stumbled back a step. “H-how did you get here so fast? What… what are you?”

Mark groaned. “Isaac, that’s a rude question.”

Father Iziaha raised a hand to silence Mark. “It is fine, Marcus. The boy merely asks out of curiosity.”

Mark bowed slightly. “Yes, sir. My apologies.”

The Arch Priest turned his piercing gaze to Isaac. “You asked what I am, boy?”

Isaac nodded nervously. “Y-yes, sir.”

Father Iziaha smiled faintly. “I am like you. A child of God. Nothing more, nothing less. Everyone in this church is a child of God. Wouldn’t you agree, Candra?”

Candra nodded solemnly. “Yes. In God’s eyes, we are all the same.”

Father Iziaha placed a heavy hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “Isaac Yoshua Dimitte,” he said, his voice softer now. “I sense a great fire within you. It is bright, but fire can either illuminate the path forward or burn it down. The choice will always be yours. But I have faith you will make the right decisions.”

Isaac swallowed hard, nodding. “Thank you, sir.”

Mark cleared his throat. “Father Iziaha, with your permission, we were going to take Isaac to the blacksmith next.”

The Arch Priest sighed. “Ah, a weapon. How I despise the necessity of such things.” He stepped aside, gesturing for them to continue. “Go, then. May your journey be fruitful.”

Mark nodded, leading Isaac and Candra down a series of winding hallways until they reached a room that radiated heat. The sound of hammering filled the air, and Isaac caught sight of a frail old man standing before a roaring forge, his hands working methodically on a glowing piece of metal.

“Isaac,” Mark said, his tone reverent, “this is the church’s blacksmith. He’s crafted every weapon used by our priests, including your father’s blade. His name is Iziekel Kantos.”

Iziekel turned, wiping his hands on a rag. He raised an eyebrow at the group. “Mark, you always know how to hype me up, don’t you?”

Isaac found himself mesmerized by the blacksmith’s presence. There was something both relaxed and intensely focused about him.

“Hey, kid,” Iziekel said, snapping Isaac out of his thoughts. “What’s your name?”

Isaac opened his mouth to respond, but Mark cut in. “His name is—”

“I wasn’t asking you, Mark,” Iziekel interrupted. “I was asking him.”

Isaac stuttered" m-m-my name is Isaac""I'm new here-

"What is that pathetic display ?!" Iziekel shouted."Your now part of our ranks, so you shall display yourself in an honourable-formal way"" So than, what is your name, boy?"

Isaac straightened. “My name is Isaac Yoshua Dimitte, sir. Pleased to meet you.”

Iziekel smirked. “Thats better. You bare the name Yoshua, huh? Interesting. Why isn’t it your last name?”

Isaac hesitated. “I… I don’t know. My parents never told me, and now they… can’t.”

Iziekel’s gaze softened. “It happens to the best of us. Better prepare yourself to lose more.”

The room fell silent as the sound of the hammer striking metal filled the air.“Hey Isaac, look at this small piece of metal. It looks harmless, useless, tiny. Do you think it can kill a demon in its current state?” Iziekel asked, holding up a small scrap.“No, it couldn’t kill a demon,” Isaac answered, shaking his head.

“Exactly. How can something this tiny do any damage to a demon? It’s utterly impossible, laughable too. But with good time and effort, it can become a weapon, an instrument. It can be molded to greatness. This small piece of metal is like you, Isaac—weak, insignificant.”“I know I'm weak, okay? I live with that guilt every day. Please, make me stronger!” Isaac pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice.“I’m not a trainer; I’m a blacksmith. I make weapons, boy, that’s it.

Everything is a team effort at the end of the day. Animals need plants, plants need animals. I need you to master your divinity so I can construct the ideal weapon for you.”“I said I’d do whatever it takes to hunt down those damn demons. Fine then, I will master my divinity,” Isaac declared, his resolve hardening.

“You say that like it’s a walk in the park,” Iziekel replied, his tone skeptical.“No, I understand; I can die at any moment. It doesn’t matter,” Isaac said, a fire igniting within him.“Fine then.

The room fell silent, save for the rhythmic clanging of Iziekel’s hammer.

“Alright, Isaac,” the blacksmith said finally. “Let’s see what you’ve got. Catch!”

Before Isaac could react, Iziekel hurled a handful of pens at him.

Isaac’s instincts kicked in as the pens flew toward him. He managed to catch two—one in each hand—while the rest clattered to the floor. He stared at the pens, confused, as if they held some hidden meaning.

“What the heck was that for?” Isaac asked, frowning.

Iziekel chuckled, leaning back against the anvil. “That little test tells me more about you than a hundred questions ever could. You caught two pens, one in each hand, and almost at the same time. Interesting.”

Mark crossed his arms, a knowing smile on his face. “Ambidextrous, huh? That’s rare.”

Isaac nodded slowly. “Yeah… I write with both hands. Is that important?”

“Important? It’s crucial,” Iziekel said, stepping closer and gesturing at Isaac with one of the dropped pens. “That means you’ve got the potential to be a dual-wielder.”

Isaac tilted his head. “Dual-wielder?”

“It means you could fight with two weapons, one in each hand, and maintain equal power in both,” Mark explained. “It’s a big deal, lad.”

Candra folded her arms, looking Isaac up and down. “Hmph. Lucky kid. Most of us struggle to master one weapon.”

Isaac blinked, trying to process the information. “So… now what?”

Iziekel grinned. “Now? Now you start your real journey. But first, you need to master your Divinity. Without that, no weapon, no matter how well-crafted, will respond to you.”

Isaac frowned. “How do I master my Divinity? Is there… a teacher or something?”

Mark nodded. “Exactly. Every trainee gets a mentor to guide them through their training. We’ll find someone to teach you the basics.”

Candra raised an eyebrow. “And who’s the lucky teacher for him?”

Mark scanned a list pinned to the wall near the forge. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Huh. Well, this is unexpected.”

Candra leaned over his shoulder. “Who is it?”

Before Mark could answer, a calm voice came from the doorway. “It’s me.”

The group turned to see a man step into the room. He was tall, with sharp features and an air of quiet authority. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Isaac, and for a moment, the boy felt as if the man could see straight into his soul.

“I’m Luke,” the man said, his voice steady and composed. “I’ll be your teacher, Isaac.”