Days passed since that night, yet Kael couldn't forget the strange feeling growing inside him. He continued his daily duties in the church — sweeping the yard, replacing melted candles, singing hymns. But nothing felt the same.
Every voice echoed strangely.
Every shadow seemed to watch.
And every person… felt like a puppet from a prewritten script.
---
One morning, Kael stumbled down the cellar stairs. His hand scraped against a jagged stone, but the blood that flowed wasn't red.
It was pale white, like light soaked in mist.
> "What… is this?"
His hand trembled. But stranger still — the wound vanished in seconds. No pain. No trace.
From the shadows of the corridor, Anselm watched, barely breathing.
> "Phase Two has begun. The Mark is rewriting his body…"
---
Meanwhile, Father Eluon stared at the old tome that now opened itself every night. The symbol on its pages shifted: from holiness to something that… split truth itself.
> "The Church… won't be able to contain this."
He knew — once Kael connected to the Mark, the "Upper World" would tremble, and the "Stair" would reveal itself.
A world hidden from mortal eyes — the source of power, destiny, and collapse.
---
On the seventh night, Kael dreamed.
He saw a staircase made of bones reaching toward the sky.
Around it, millions of eyes wept blood.
And atop it, a faceless figure sat, cloaked in a robe made from human words.
The figure looked at Kael with no eyes.
> "Ascend."
"Or drown with those who refuse to see."
When Kael awoke, blood dripped from his ears.