The warehouse emptied quickly after Thalia’s declaration.
Keeva, Yara, and Osric filed out to begin surveying the settlent, assessing damage, cataloging resources, identifying any remaining potential threats. Their footsteps faded as Osric’s silence barrier dissolved, allowing sound to return to normal.
That left five Transcendents with Solarius.
Finn pulled a chair across the stone floor, positioning it a few feet from where the Champion lay bound, then sat, watching.
The Error-made chains still held Solarius motionless. Finn could sense the invalidation effect woven through each link, a conceptual lock that made what was left of the Champion’s divine power forget how to function.
Solarius had attempted suicide at least three tis since being bound. Finn had felt each attempt through the chains’ feedback, surges of his remaining divine essence trying to self-detonate, trying to stop his own heart. Each attempt had been nullified before it could complete.
The Champion’s eyes, now hollow from desperation, tracked Finn as he sat on his chair comfortably.
"You have a talent for this," Thalia comnted, studying the restraints. "Artifact nurturing, I an. The way you’ve structured these chains is so natural. Like Casmir. That’s his specialty."
Finn blinked, surprised. He hadn’t thought of it that way. The chains had been instinctive, Error given form and purpose, shaped by desperate need during combat.
But Thalia was right. In function, they resembled artifacts. Mana-crafted objects with embedded properties that persisted without constant maintenance.
Sothing to explore later, Finn filed away.
Ailin stepped forward, her expression utterly transford. Gone was the friendly, approachable deanor Finn had grown accustod to. Her features had beco neutral, clinical, cold — the face of soone preparing to perform surgery rather than interrogation.
Deacon moved forward, standing not too far from Ailin as he focused his golden eyes of truth on their prisoner — the champion, Solarius.
The Champion’s attention imdiately locked onto the Truth bearer with sothing like recognition. Or perhaps dread. As if he understood, on so fundantal level, what those golden eyes represented.
Ailin crouched beside the bound Champion, reaching for his head with both hands.
"This will be invasive," she said quietly. "You won’t be able to hide anything from once I’m inside."
Solarius said nothing. But his jaw clenched.
Ailin’s fingers touched his temples.
Her eyes rolled back until all that was left was featureless scelera.
The Champion’s eyes did the sa a mont later.
Then both of them went utterly still.
Finn watched tensely, waiting to intervene if anything went wrong. Sothing about this felt precarious. mory reading wasn’t his concept or expertise, and he had no frawork for understanding what could go wrong.
Divine essence versus Transcendent concept. What if Solarius had defenses that activated unconsciously? What if his God’s blessings that remained included protections Finn’s chains hadn’t accounted for?
Minutes passed.
Nothing happened.
Ailin remained frozen, hands pressed to Solarius’s temples, eyes pure white. The Champion lay equally motionless, breath shallow but steady.
Finn’s shoulder relaxed slightly.
More minutes. Five. Ten.
Finn glanced at Thalia, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow.
"What?" Himothy’s voice cut through the silence, sharp with amusent. "Now that you’ve got divine power, you think Transcendent abilities aren’t capable anymore?"
Finn sighed, feeling a flush of guilt. The Glory bearer had read him accurately. He had been doubting, unconsciously assuming that divine power would sohow overwhelm or bypass Transcendent concepts.
Arrogance, he recognized. Divine arrogance... Or conceit, maybe. It’s already affecting how I think.
He stood, rolling his shoulders. "How long does this usually take?"
"Depends," Tavian answered from where he leaned against the wall. "On how deep Ailin goes. Surface mories: recent events, conscious thoughts, those are quick. Hours at most."
"But if she’s mining for buried knowledge," Yara added, "or trying to extract information the subject doesn’t consciously rember having? That can take a day or more. Longer if she’s being thorough about verification."
Finn nodded slowly, understanding. Solarius had centuries of experience, decades of service to the Radiant One, countless encounters with other Gods and divine beings. Mining that vast repository of mory would be ti-consuming by necessity.
"My presence isn’t needed here, then," Finn said, eting Thalia’s gaze. "I should go out. Start taking the first steps toward stabilizing the town and building our base of believers."
Thalia’s eyes narrowed. "Why the rush? We don’t have the full picture yet of how to manage believers properly. Divine chanics, faith conversion, spiritual authority, we’re operating blind on all of that."
"I know," Finn said quickly, cutting off the developing lecture. "And I’m not planning anything drastic."
He gestured toward the door.
"Just peripheral work. Taking control of the town as people start waking from unconsciousness. Making sure we’re positioned as authority figures rather than invaders. Preventing panic or resistance movents from forming before they can organize."
"Practical groundwork," Thalia said slowly, considering.
"Exactly. The kind of thing that needs to happen regardless of what we learn from Solarius."
Himothy pushed off from the wall where he’d been leaning. "I’ll go with him."
Everyone turned to stare.
The Glory bearer grinned, utterly unrepentant. "What? You think I’m going to sit here for hours watching Ailin stare at nothing? Boring. I’d rather be out there where things might actually happen."
He headed toward the door without waiting for permission, clearly assuming agreent.
Thalia watched him go with a blank expression, then sighed and looked back at Finn.
"It’s fine. Better he’s outside than in here anyway. Nothing much to do but wait, and..." she glanced at Deacon, then at where Ailin remained frozen with Solarius, "...the fewer people crowding this space, the better for concentration."
Finn nodded, standing fully. "If sothing critical cos up—"
"I’ll send soone," Thalia confird. "Go. Handle the surface-level issues. But Finn?"
He paused at the door.
"No improvisation," Thalia said firmly. "Nothing dramatic. We need stability right now, not spectacle. Clear?"
"Clear," Finn agreed.
He followed Himothy out into the harsh desert sunlight, leaving Thalia, Deacon, Tavian and Ailin with the bound Champion.
The door closed behind them with a heavy thud.
.
.
The settlent was beginning to stir.
Finn could see it as he and Himothy walked through the square, small movents in doorways, curtains shifting in windows, the first tentative explorations of people erging from wherever they’d sheltered during the divine battle.
Most of the unconscious believers still lay where they’d fallen. But the ones who’d been indoors, who’d hidden or fled when the fighting started, those were starting to reerge.
And they were terrified.
Finn could see it in their body language, in the way they moved, in their hushed conversations conducted in doorways, unwilling to venture fully outside.
"They don’t know what to do," Himothy observed, scanning the nervous townspeople. "Their God is dead, the foreign God’s Champion is defeated, and they have no frawork for what cos next."
"Vacuum of authority," Finn agreed. "Which we need to fill before soone else does."
"How?" Himothy asked with a surprising curiosity in his voice. "You can’t just walk up and say ’I’m your new God, worship .’"
Finn smiled faintly. "No. But I can start by offering solutions to their imdiate problems."
He gestured toward the square.
"Look at that. Dozens of unconscious people lying in the sun. No one’s moving them because everyone’s too scared to approach the battle site. That’s a problem I can solve right now."
"By carrying people?" Himothy said skeptically.
"By demonstrating that the area is safe. That the fighting is over. That life can begin returning to normal, under new managent."
Finn started walking toward the nearest unconscious believer, an older man who’d collapsed near the edge of where the temple had stood.
Finn lifted the man carefully and began carrying him toward the nearest building with an open door.
A woman stood in that doorway, middle-aged and weathered, watching with wide eyes as Finn approached.
"He needs sowhere to rest," Finn said simply in a voice with a similar translation effect like Deacon’s. "Sowhere cool, out of the sun. Can you help?"
The woman stared at him for a long mont. Then, slowly, nodded.
She stepped back, gesturing to a simple interior — a ho, modest but clean, with woven mats on the floor.
Finn laid the unconscious man down gently, then straightened.
"Thank you," he said.
The woman said nothing in response, but at least there was curiosity behind her gaze, and even sothing like awe, though very reserved.
Good enough, Finn thought.
He returned to the square. Himothy was already lifting another unconscious believer — a young woman this ti, being carried toward a different building where another townsperson had tentatively opened their door.
They worked in silence, establishing a rhythm.
Other Transcendents began appearing. Keeva, using her disguise magic to appear less threatening. And Yara, helping to carry the unconscious townsfolk to their hos.
The townspeople watched. Whispered. Helped, gradually, as fear gave way to cautious cooperation.
And through it all, Finn felt the weight of attention. Not just from the mortals around him, but from sothing deeper.
The trace divinity within him pulsed gently, responding to the believers. To these people whose worldview had just been shattered and who sought anything to grasp onto for hope.
Faith, Finn realized. It was already forming. Already beginning to flow toward him.
It was barely noticeable. A trickle rather than a flood. But present nonetheless.
He’d claid the Guardian’s identity, fought the Radiant One’s Champion, prevented divine manifestation through sheer audacity and stolen power.
And now, whether he’d intended it fully or not, he was becoming what he’d pretended to be.
The Errant. Divine Error made manifest. The god of flaws and spaces between order and chaos.
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