Chapter 2. Prayer

For the next ten minutes, Valorth and Adion focused on cleaning the room, erasing any evidence of their actions. In the Central Empire, it was illegal for humans to consume demon hearts unless they were part of the forces that fought against them.

Neither Valorth nor Adion belonged to such forces. They were merely two young orphan servants of the capital city’s palace, who had saved their coins to purchase two demon hearts from the city’s dark markets. With their dreams now realised, they hoped to change their lives.

However, as they cleaned, Valorth’s mind was far from his original goals. Instead, it was consumed by thoughts of his corrupted heart.

Even being part of the city defenders or the White Hand wouldn’t save me from the law if they discovered my corruption.

Those with a corrupted heart had a significantly higher chance of becoming demons. Some even believe it was inevitable.

Valorth bit back his tears, careful not to let Adion notice while they cleaned.

No… I refuse to accept that fate. A corrupted heart is said to have its benefits. I just need to discover what they are.

Valorth recalled the strange vision he had experienced after losing consciousness. The scene frightened him even more than the thought of a corrupted heart. If it wasn’t a mere delusion conjured by his mind, it had granted him knowledge that even royalty struggled to obtain.

The true name of an Angel.

Even in his thoughts, he dared not utter the name, fearing it might make him a target of divine wrath. It was well known that the more you knew about an angel, and the closer you were to the concept it embodied, the more likely it was to hear your prayers.

However, it had been a millennium since angels roamed the Four Corners of the World. Knowledge of their histories had long been hidden by the most powerful bloodlines or lost to time.

In other words, information about an angel was among the most valuable commodities in the world, surpassing even demonic artifacts. This was precisely why Valorth felt sceptical about the vision he had seen. It seemed too good to be true.

I need to find a way to confirm it.

———

After cleaning Valorth’s chambers, the two young men sat on his bed, each lost in thought. Adion’s handsome face brimmed with excitement, as it had ever since he consumed the heart.

“So,” he said, unable to contain himself any longer, “do you feel any different?”

Caught up in the unsettling consequences of becoming a Hearteater, Valorth hadn’t considered whether he had gained any new “powers.”

My body feels the same. Still as weak and frail as any other servant. I don’t sense any inclination toward magic, nor can I detect demons.

Valorth shrugged and pursed his lips. “I feel exactly the same as before.”

The smile faded from Adion’s face, as if drained of hope. “Damn,” he cursed. “I was hoping you’d notice something. I’ve got nothing either, just an extra heart.”

Well, at least you have that.

“But,” Adion continued, “I do feel like there’s something untapped in my mind, like it’s expanded, but I don’t know how to use it yet.”

Valorth nodded in agreement. He wasn’t sure if it was a placebo, but he felt something similar. “They say that with time, even an untrained Hearteater will gradually discover their abilities. Maybe after a good night’s rest, we’ll wake up with the strength to lift carriages,” Valorth said with a fake yawn.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Adion rose to his feet and snapped his fingers. “Or better yet, the charm to woo even the noble ladies of Uradesh,” he said with a wink, heading for the door. “You’re right. Let’s call it a day and get some rest. We’ve gotten the hard part out of the way. Now we just need to learn about our powers and figure out how to use them to rise above being mere servants.”

Valorth smiled at his friend’s optimism. It was a dream they had shared since their homeless childhoods, when they first found each other. They had never left each other’s side since, always aspiring to be more than peasants. Becoming Hearteaters was their only chance to achieve that.

Valorth wished his friend goodnight, then sat alone in the darkness of his chambers. Located in the basement, his room had no view of the sky, but he knew it was nighttime, as the master of the household had sent all servants to their quarters after curfew.

A dangerous plan began to form in Valorth’s mind. He noticed his thoughts seemed clearer, more efficient, since consuming the heart, as if it were aiding him in organising his ideas. He wondered if this was an effect of the heart type he had welcomed into his body.

If I pray to the Angel from the vision using its name, there’s a high chance I’ll gain its attention. But the risks are unimaginable.

For one, if the name is false, and merely a figment of my imagination, I risk cursing myself.

Valorth was no scholar, but it was common knowledge that praying directly to a being that wasn’t an angel was not only illegal, but dangerous. It could attract demons or reinforce delusions in the human mind.

The second danger was even more troubling.

If I pray to this angel, I might lose favour with the Angel of Arms. The Central Empire’s Archbishop claims the Angel of Arms demands exclusive worship from its followers. If that’s true…

Valorth’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a startling realisation.

Wait… what if the name I heard in the vision is the true name of the Angel of Arms? Could it have been a glimpse of the past, when angels still roamed the earth? Could the vision I saw be directly connected to the patron angel of our Empire?

His corrupted heart raced, and goosebumps spread across his skin. If true, this would make him one of the few people in the entire continent who knew the true name of the Angel they all worshipped.

What could a prayer using its true name achieve? What would a true blessing from an angel be like?

For an hour, Valorth weighed the decision. In the end, he concluded it was a risk worth taking. He was already cursed by the corrupted heart, with no idea when its effects would manifest. He needed help from something greater before unseen forces took hold of him.

With shaky hands, he retrieved the knife from the hidden compartment in his desk, the same one used earlier. For the Angel of Arms, weapons often served as mediators during prayers. It was said that the greater the weapon and the skill of its wielder, the more likely the angel would answer.

Valorth was an untrained peasant, and his knife was a mere kitchen tool, hardly earning him favour. But now he possessed something far greater. Standing tall, he held the knife before him and closed his eyes. His words came as a trembling whisper, almost refusing to leave his lips.

“O Angel Armaneus, hear my prayer and grant me your blessing.”

As the final word escaped, Valorth instantly regretted his decision. He knew his prayer had been heard. A pressure unlike any other bore down on him, threatening to erase him from existence. Valorth screamed, then realised he could only submit to the force. He collapsed, his consciousness swept away.

For what felt like an eternity, he drifted through an endless void, seemingly without destination. Eventually, he arrived in a realm of light, though he struggled to comprehend anything about it.

One thing stood out above all else: a towering figure wrapped in bright golden light, so bright it hurt to look at. The glow spread around it like sunlight breaking through clouds. It loomed high above him, silent, yet so heavy with power that the world itself seemed to tremble.

In its hand it held a great sword, the blade hidden by the same shining light, as if the weapon itself was made of the glow. From its back stretched two huge wings, each feather catching the golden light so they seemed to sparkle with every small movement.

Even outside of his physical body, Valorth felt fear tighten around him. The terror that took control of his body felt inescapable. The figure’s gaze, though he could not see its eyes through the glow, felt sharp and all-knowing. It seemed to look straight through him, as if it could see every secret he had. Around him the darkness grew quieter and stiller, until all that remained was the golden figure watching him, waiting for something he could not name.

When it finally spoke, the world rumbled, and Valorth felt certain that this was the end of his life.

“You’ve called upon Armaneus, the Great Angel of Swords.” The words roared. “If this is a waste of time, your existence will be cut down by my sword.”