Speed Things Up Already, Slow Pace is Only Good With Frequent Updates

To spare one the details, I went to sleep. There wasn't anything particularly exciting about it - the most noteworthy thing was that I made sure to choose a room as far away from Priska's as I could.

No telling what such a vixen could do while I'm defenseless.

In all honesty, the home was nice. While I usually dislike excessive extravagance - it's a sign of debauchery, and Christ even lived as a beggar - it's fitting here. Better to strive to showcase the grandeur of God and Heaven than follow in the example of Protestants.

Their so-called 'churches' are just sheds with a cross hung up on the wall.

If anything, I could say that the castle had a good taste for decor and design in general. I was pleased by my room as well; although, that doesn't mean much, considering what I formerly slept in - i.e. a stack of boxes in a kitchen.

In general, I was pleased. My recent experience could be considered to have gone along quite well; I finished with an advantageous - from my current understanding - deal, chose a luxurious room, and then went to sleep in that said room.

Except for the fact that I was woken up in the early hours of the morning like a serf.

"Wake up now. Today's a busy day. You should be excited," Leonidas said, not bothering to put much energy into his words. He did put energy into throwing the Egyptian silk covers off of me and onto the floor, however. "Keep in mind that the alternative to this is sicking a few dogs on you."

What a barbaric practice. I won't say that he's bluffing - saying so to a man who's unsure of something is exactly how you get him to do something - but I doubt he'd let feral beasts tear apart expensive fibers.

He waited until I'd actually woken up to continue: "God has seen fit to grant us the gift of providence. In other words, we're lucky. You get to have a Magical Affinity test and a Holy Sword Affinity test today, not just one or the other."

Hm. He was right - I should be excited to have a chance at becoming more powerful. This is more than enough motivation to wake up, and I don't need to sleep anyway; those covers were just comfortable.

I jumped out of bed, stretching my back. "When do we leave?"

"First, you need to get cleaned up. Some poor soul had to bathe you while you were unconscious - the first time, not the second - but it's been about a week since then. Just go into the washroom and wipe yourself down, I suppose. I'm definitely not helping you."

"Why would I waste time doing that when the chance of wielding even more Holiness is at hand? I always go months without washing up, and it's only been a week or so."

Hygiene is overrated, in my opinion. If some prissy, pedigreed aristocrat - and I wonder who I'm referring to with that - takes issue to my stench, they only have themselves to blame. Where I come from, everyone barely bathes; it's a brotherhood of sorts, where your sense of smell naturally evolves to withstand withering odors.

Well, it's more like adaptation out of necessity to survive.

He only gave me a look of disgust. "That must be why you stank up entire rooms when you got here. Just do it; this is the house of God, basically the main one at that. What savage walks around Saint Peter's Basilica while smelling like sewage?"

He does have a point. It's disrespectful to the Lord when one can't go through the basic effort of a wash as a guest in his home.

"Fair. I'll wear the same clothes afterwards. Where is the washroom?"

"Go straight from the door, then go through the third hallway on the left. You shouldn't miss it." He left as well after giving those directions - and by 'left', I mean he ran out so fast that the sheets on the floor got blasted into the wall by the created wind.

Is it troubling that I've gotten used to this so quickly? A week ago I was a normal man, and now I'm not surprised to see a man going at speeds nearly faster than what I can perceive.

Ignoring my inner musings, I did as he said and found the washroom. I did what I'm supposed to, finishing in around fifteen minutes.

There's only one problem: I don't know what to do now. Where do I go? And even if I knew the destination, the layout of the castle is new to me - there's no way I could figure out how to get there.

I have three options. One, wait for Leonidas to look for me; two, climb out of a window and circle around to the front; three, try to retrace my steps.

The first two options would make me look stupid, so the third is what I'm going with. Also, it's fairly easy; I can find my room by walking over there, turning right, and then it's at the end of the hall.

The problem is where to go after that - I can't remember the exact path from last night - but it's not important. Some improvising will do the trick.

Following those aforementioned instructions, I found my room - also finding that it had been cleaned in the time I'd been gone - and proceeded to walk in whatever direction made sense. The paintings on the walls were extremely recognizable, though, so I followed those and ended up in whatever room we were having a meeting in last night.

I'm glad everything worked out.

I was probably late, as evidenced by how the girl and Leonidas were already there, discussing something on their own.

"Again, you can't use that sword. Look at it! So brittle. We've let you wear that noble attire or whatever rather than any actual combat suits or armor - don't push your luck."

(Picture of the clothes and sword for context (and Priska, although she wears actual boots instead of the high-heeled things in the art).)

"Well, it so happens that this 'fancy attire', in your ignorant words, was originally designed centuries ago and was remade by my grandmother. It is superior to anything you could offer in the first pla-"

"The armor here can literally take bullets without a dent if you're important enough. And, if you're not, the ordinary armor will still defend you much more than whatever that is - plus, if it's that important to you, why are you begging to let it be ripped apart in battle?"

Priska grabbed the sword next to her - presumably the reason for this argument - and slammed it down on the table. "If you so insist with all of your petulant begging, screaming, and bawling, then we may settle for a compromise. I have my attire of choice, and in exchange I'll use whatever other sword you have in mind."

"Gladly." He swiped the sword away. "Still, though, no Enchantments or reinforcements on your clothes? It's not as if they'll be sabotaged."

Priska looked appalled at the very suggestion, opening her mouth to retort, but then she paused. "...If you're correct and it gets harmed, then I'll entertain the idea."

"Good enough. I don't know why you want to turn down the chance of having a Holy Sword in exchange for this, though." Leonidas held it up for reference. "It's a ceremonial saber. It would break if you tried to cut a wooden log."

I felt the need to interject - learning context is important in everything, with scripture being a prime example. "What happened?"

They turned to me. "Well, you see," Leonidas began, "we were talking about the Holy Sword Affinity test we'll be going to in a little while, and we devolved into debating about a certain girl's bullheadedness of refusing to have weapons or clothes fit for her duties after she declined the notion of using a Holy Sword - even if it picks her."

"Yes, well, how about you give things acceptable enough for me to wear?" she responded, challenging his provocation. "For a week you've badgered me about using a battlesuit or Church-made weapons. Why must I conform to using those mass-produced scraps for your sake?"

"First of all, Holy Swords are gifted to us by Heaven and are the opposite of 'mass-produced'; second of all, it's for your sake, so that you don't get gored by random debris, not mine."

I'd say that's enough context to piece things together. They were discussing the Holy Sword Affinity test, Priska said that she wouldn't use the sword even if it picked her, continuing on to state that she would only wear clothes of her own fashion and use her own sword - both in typical womanly behavior - and it devolved into this. 'This' being an argument about her using proper Exorcist gear, which is a debate that had apparently been going on since she joined the Church.

What a filthy mutt. Slut, I mean, forgive me - they're both similar-sounding words and fit her so well that I got confused. Imagine saying to the Lord's face that you decline His gift. Holy Swords should be graciously accepted for their basic origin and effect - trading one out for a thing of mortal creation is blasphemy of the highest order.

Although, I'd like to know exactly how it happens.

"What did you mean about the weapons choosing their wielders?" I asked, inadvertently breaking up a continuation of the argument.

"You should already know this, slave, so stop ham-fistedly meddling in others' affairs -"

"He doesn't know," Leonidas interrupted. "His interviewers were nearly blown to pieces before they could tell him enough."

Meh. They deserved it.

And I'm not sure as to why this harlot thought I was trying to mediate their argument by breaking it up with a question. I couldn't care less about her.

Well, that's a lie. I hate her.

Ignoring the German girl's baleful stare, he continued. "Anyway, Holy Swords aren't sentient, but they can choose their wielders by judging the character of whoever holds them. Note that this doesn't mean you're necessarily a good or bad person depending on the result," he clarified, "there've been plenty of cases where people famed for their righteousness didn't get chosen, though you definitely won't get chosen if you're judged to be evil. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that it all depends on your 'goodness' and on how well you resonate with the Sword. The former is a prerequisite for the latter, though, like I said - you need to be righteous and resonate as well."

Hmm. If these are the requirements, then is Holy Sword Affinity even a thing? It sounds more like you're born with a capability to use the Holy Swords when it's stuffed into that term.

I repeated the question out loud, and Leonidas answered: "Yes, it's more of a simplification. There's really no such thing as 'Affinity' - you're either chosen or you're not. The same isn't true for Magic though, which you'll find out later, because we need to get going."

Fair enough. He answered the questions well enough for me to be sure of one thing: I will be chosen by a Holy Sword.

Think about it. If being chosen depends on the righteousness of one's character as well as resonating with the Sword, there's no better option than me. As the representative of good in this world and as a weapon of God, poised to strike at the heart of evil, any sane Holy Sword would choose me. I wouldn't be surprised if the entire armory does.

What does 'resonating' entail though?

"What do you mean by 'resonate'?"

"You think I know? It's debated. Usually, it just has to do with how well you 'fit' with the Sword. Usually, whether or not you resonate depends on any similarities or relations you have with the Sword's power or background. To give an example, Excalibur Destruction is usually given to people who are seeking strength or want to destroy things. Stuff like that. Also, note how I'm using the word 'usually' so much - it's because there have been exceptions for unknown reasons. The Holy Sword-related field of research hasn't progressed very much since its creation."

"Sir Ingrate," Priska said as we were leaving, "how shall the test work?"

I expected her level of sophistication to be at the level of an ape's. Surprising that such a crass, vulgar creature could ask a reasonable question, although it's funny that she does so in the first place, considering the topic. There's no point in asking, because there's no way any Sword chooses her.

"You don't have to worry about it," I said. "Nothing will choose you, no matter how much you pray."

"We don't have to go too far, now," Leonidas said. "Anyway, back to the question. Holy Sword tests are generally conducted with a limited amount at a time - that's why getting them assured is considered to be a major benefit during recruitment - because of the obvious risk of exposing an entire Holy Sword collection to potentially untrustworthy people. This time, however, you'll be going into the main armory with all of the Swords because you two are under very special circumstances. Priska's Sacred Gear is fairly strong on its own, but it could become genuinely devastating and top-tier when combined with a Holy Sword. You both remember its description? Making a sword blade extremely hot? Well, there's a chance that applying it to a Holy Sword could make Holy Flames, similar to Incinerate Anthem's or Lord Uriel's, so we're maximizing the chance of her getting one by just putting them all there."

Interesting. What about me?

He answered the unasked question before I could speak: "Ioann has had a Holy Gear in his soul for his entire life, so there's a decent chance that one of them could resonate with him because of a shared 'biological Holiness'. We don't know, to be honest, it's just guesswork with a potentially good result. Some people are worried about whether or not you'll whip out your Gear and ruin everything, which is why I am obliged to tell you that your head will leave your shoulders as soon as I see any white gloves. Is that clear?"

He seems serious for once. It's understandable, though - imagine having the gifts of God sapped of their Holiness.

…Oh. That's why my Gear's name is Heretical Crusader. I technically enact heresy by committing sacrilege upon the Lord's creations, but I do that to wage war against and exterminate the enemies of Christendom. A heretical crusader.

I actually like that.

"It's clearly obvious to anyone with common sense. What does the armory have?"

"Hm." He turned to look directly at me. "Thinking of stealing things?"

How dumb is he? I'm asking what Holy Swords are in there.

"Are you being serious?"

"Your kind is known for being as slippery as a caravan of gypsies," Priska interjected. "I'd be worried for my coffers as well."

"Firstly, no, I am not being serious, and secondly, Ioann is not Hasidic [1] - at least from what I can see. I know they're good at trickery. Anyway, wait a second," he muttered, crouching down near a birdhouse. "We'll get to the gallery and then we can continue this little back-and-forth. Touch my shoulder again, both of you."

We obliged, and this time, I didn't feel like I was going to throw up after the sudden transportation.

"To answer your question," Leonidas continued, "I don't know. They're kept under lock and key for obvious reasons; the inventory isn't available to me with a little paper list."

Fair. I would do the same.

"Stop asking questions now," he said, sighing. "Every interaction I have with you is just a bunch of questions and answers, over and over again. Grant me some silence while we walk."

Priska opened her mouth, likely wanting to insert some sort of snide remark, but she held her tongue. I'm not sure as to why, but as long as she's learning her place, it doesn't matter.

From then on, we walked in silence, reaching a very, very large door after a series of winding turns throughout the Vatican.

There were four Exorcists posted at it, and one of them, upon inspection, was Vasco.

"Nice to see you're out of a hospital bed," he said. "We'll have to catch up some other time. I need to open up this door."

Which he did. With a seemingly effortless tug of its handles, the door flew open, revealing a long hallway with another door at the end. Instead of being posted at the entrance, here the Exorcists were posted along the walls.

"Thank you," was all I said. I'd rather not be civil with Protestant filth at all, but I need to stay low-key while weak; my grievances can be acted upon when I'm in a position to do so.

"Do they move?" asked Priska, seeing how the Exorcists were still as a statue. "What if I attacked one with a bludgeon?"

"You'd be dead before you could. And yes, they do move, but they're on duty; it's ceremonial to be respectful and show discipline before the treasures of Heaven, although people like you are probably unable to."

At least he made sure to keep me out of that little characterization. He must know by now that I treat the Lord with all of his deserved reverence.

"Alright. We're here." After he knocked thrice on the door - in a pattern of 'loud knock, long pause, quiet knock, longer pause, loud knock' - it swung open.

And a wave of Holy Energy hit us in the face. I suppose that's what happens when you stick dozens of heavenly treasures in a room and let their auras marinate.

At least it wasn't a genuinely offensive blast. It's more like that feeling when you take the lid off a pot that had been cooking for a while - minus the steam burns you'd get.

"Come in quickly," said the man, holding the door open. "We mustn't let the aura escape."

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[1] Hasidism is a school of Orthodox Judaism that got very popular in Eastern Europe. Calling him 'Hasidic' is basically calling him Jewish but with a historical flair.

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The pace of my writing now is slow enough that even though I expected the Holy Sword Affinity test and Magical Affinity test to all be within one chapter, it apparently takes three chapters to do that while properly fleshing everything out: one chapter of getting there, another chapter of the Holy Sword Affinity test, one chapter of the Magical Affinity test.

Personally, I like writing this way, but I know that repeated 3k word length chapters of only conversations gets boring. People binging this fic after all of the slow-paced parts have already been released probably don't have a problem with it though, so, if you are one of those people in the future, consider yourself lucky.

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