The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Human-Built Hell

Read chapter 12 of The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] by Adamus_Auguste on NovelPedia.

Chapter 12: Human-Built Hell With a deep exhale, Kael relaxed his tense grimace. The stress of his anchor, the head priest's sermon, and the corpses of Tovin and Ash slowly drifted into a mind box he tried to close. But the lid remained half open. He barely glanced at the parade when he squeezed through the crowd chanting Kythra's burning verses. Els was in front of the hot milk stand, as far from the rooftop as he was from Veston. She watched priests juggle scalding balls and offer blessings. Before he tapped her shoulder, she turned toward him, her sparkling eyes dimming. Softly, she asked, "Where did you disappear?" "Gang members passed by. Thought hiding was better than risking being found out." Kael's voice was low, like the drip of blood in a deep cave. Els studied him, her eyes darting to the folded cloths under his armpit. Her mouth opened before her headshake closed it. Slowly, she reached for his right cheek, but her fingers stopped an inch from his skin. They hovered, then traced his pierced lips. "Are you hurt?" Covering his mouth, Kael shook his head. He reached for his pocket. "You didn't hide. You did something stupid. I can see it in your—" The ten copper crowns in his palm cut her off. "What I owe you. I wanted it to be more... Perhaps next time..." He paused, then his voice grew heavy. "If you're ever trapped with no hope, you must know who you are—know the truth you believe." He pressed the coins in her palm and turned. He had repaid his debt and more. Still, he hoped she would never have to awaken a truth. The price was worth only if death was the sole other option. "Wait!" Els gripped his shoulder, but he shook her off. "Don't try to stop me. I need to leave. Now." For a moment, he gazed back. Then, he lowered the scarf on his face, whispering as he slipped between two cheering men. "I'll get you a nice scarf if we meet again. Live well, and cherish your time with Arthur. Tell him I won't forget." Without turning back, he hastened out of the central district. But after a few steps, he heard whispers. "Did you see anyone climb on George's shop roof?" Kael's blood chilled. The Ragged Crown had found out, likely in the silence of the sermon. Men were after him, and his first reflex was to head for an alley. No! I'm safer in the middle of the crowd. They didn't have time to call for reinforcements and organise the search. I'll be safe in the industrial district. Need to get rid of the clothes. Without slowing, he hid the proofs inside his shirt and crossed the Ragged Crown thug. More asked questions. He avoided their notice by moving behind men broader than he was. As he vanished into the industrial district, a deep furrow creased the head priest's brow. He lowered his gaze to a necklace hidden beneath his toga. It tugged toward factories that blew steam from their chimneys. "A heretic." His voice twanged, the necklace tug hardened, and he glared toward Garrick's bar. The other priests glanced at him, eyes narrowing, but he simply waved his hand. "Kythra's brightness shall not dim in front of these wretched souls. We'll get answers and names after the parade." **** Kael continued to rush through the crowd until he reached the potato stand. The same man wore his apron behind the grill, eagerly serving the few customers who either couldn't afford meat or doubted its origin as Kael did. He circled it, approached the next stand, and cut the long line. "Hey, lad! Wait for your turn like everyone!" Kael ignored the sausage seller's raised fork. He leaned closer, half pulling the cloths out from the top of his shirt. "A brand new pair of pants and a linen shirt, and another pair of pants in good condition. Seven copper crowns." The seller, a bearded middle-aged man, instantly lowered his fork and whispered back. "Five and you have a deal." "I'll ask the next stand, then." Before Kael could hide the clothes again, the man grabbed his wrist beneath the counter. With his other hand, he planted his fork on a sausage, the