“Ah, yes, the town. So, the gods found themselves at the ruined town, where the remaining survivors found them wandering outside the few standing wall stones. The leader of the warriors went out to meet them in the low grassy field just outside the town,” he continued.

“The eldest of the beggars bowed as low as he could to the tall leather-clad warrior, and the man responded by picking him up off the ground. The beggar didn't quite seem to understand what had just happened, after all, what warrior would have a beggar stand as his equal?” he asked.

“Anyone with half a brain and heart would have done the same, I'd imagine,” I shrugged as if stating the obvious. “That’s where you’re wrong, Thoma,” he shook his head. “For this was no ordinary grunt you'd find on the battlefield. He was the Lord of Codrean and a very powerful mage,” he said in an honorific tone.

My father was a supposed lord, but I don’t know what became of him once I was recruited into the Synners, I avoided saying that part aloud.

I raised my eyebrows. “The Lord of Codrean, Master? I thought lords weren't supposed to do battle,” I cocked my head. “As far as I know, they generally sit in their comfy castles and large rooms surrounded by whores and wine while the lowly soldiers get thrown into the shitstorm of a battlefield,” I said bitterly, but his nod of agreement was a surprise to me.

“This lord, however, was well known for being able to see the true nature of people. While he didn’t know who they were, he could tell they were no ordinary beggars the moment he saw the first bow lower than anyone before,” he continued, leaning back in his chair a little. “Doesn’t sound like much to me,” I muttered.

Obviously, he’d heard my comment, but chose to say nothing. “In any case, he happily invited them for supper, making the first gasp in surprise given that food was notably scarce. The disguised gods agreed before he led them to the makeshift tents they’d constructed after the attack in preparation for the next,” he continued.

“The following morning, the beggars decided to leave the small settlement but wanted to speak to the lord first. The first beggar revealed that they were, in fact, gods and that each one would bestow a single gift to him and five of his bravest warriors for his altruism. Taken aback by the gesture and revelation of their godhood, he immediately fell to his knees in reverence,” he leaned forward once more.

“But what were the gifts, Master? I’m sure they must have been powerful artifacts,” I felt my interest peak as I leaned forward. “Of course, they were,” he chuckled softly.

Wait, he can laugh? I desperately tried to hide my surprise.

“To the Lord of Codrean, the leader gave the Realmwalker Blade, capable of cutting through the fabric of reality if the wielder infused mana into it,” he began almost reverently.

“To the largest and strongest of them, the second goddess gave the Fate-bearer Shield. She had forged it from the bones of a great serpent, which negates all magic used against it. It could even use the negated spell’s mana to heal the bearer and those around him,” he continued.

“The third god gave the Night-kissed Mantle to the woman who had been an assassin for the Lord for over a decade. This mantle coated the user in mana, making them virtually undetectable,” he grinned with the last word, but I couldn’t figure out why.

“The fourth goddess approached the archer, and she granted him the Nethersong Mask, which allowed for a vast improvement in eyesight, as well as produced an autonomous bestial claw made of pure mana for offensive or defensive purposes,” his face contorted slightly this time. Still, like before, I couldn’t figure out why.

“The fifth god took pity on the most severely wounded of them and, after healing his wounds, granted him the Dreambinder Jerkin. It would allow the wearer to phase through any physical attack not infused with mana,” he continued with a hint of jealousy.

“The sixth goddess noticed one of the warriors wielding dual-blades, and thus produced the Benevolent Ring, which could populate items placed within its storage spell at a moment’s notice,” he grinned, obviously hiding something. “Those all sound incredibly useful,” I noted, getting a quick nod of agreement.

“Yes, they are. However, the leader of the gods decided to bestow a second gift, not just for the warriors but for everyone, producing a brightly glowing plant and instructions on how to correctly use it from a ring on his finger.

To say that I was confused would be an understatement.

“A plant, Master?" I asked, unsure of what I’d just heard. “Naturally, after hearing about these magnificent weapons and such, one must wonder what a plant has to do with all of this,” he chuckled again, only adding to my confusion.

“A plant?” I asked again. “Y-yes,” the Master replied curtly. “As unlikely as it seems, that plant helped make us what we are. Both gifts are almost useless individually, but if the instructions are followed carefully, drawing mana from the Ethereal is much less risky," he explained. “What do you mean by risky?” I cocked my head.

“It’s not impossible for one to connect with the Ethereal without the plant’s blessing, but it does speed up and simplify the process,” he shrugged slightly. “But this gift is what sets us synners apart from other warriors, as we can train with mana from a young age as opposed to the decades of learning normally required,” he continued in a more serious tone.

“While the ability can be passed down through direct bloodlines of those who have consumed the plant, you must never take this gift lightly. It was bestowed upon us by the gods to help us defend our homeland. Do you understand, Thoma?” he tilted his head downward to look at me from beneath a slightly furrowed brow.

“I do, Master,” I swallowed dryly. “Good,” he nodded before leaning back in his chair. “Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” he said in a voice that made the hair on my arm stand up like a wooden palisade.

“I have two things in store for you, but only after we visit Coltend, as I would not have you do anything tonight. I would like to give you a choice,” he almost grinned as he spoke. “A choice?” I asked weakly.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? I thought.

“I want you to know that I must either punish or test you for your insolence tonight. However, since this was more of an accident than a willful happening, I will tell you the two options,” the Master said.

I felt more scared than I had ever been. The Master and Bernar, standing two paces behind my chair, sensed it but showed no sign of doing so.

“One is to spend a week in solitary confinement with only bread and water as sustenance, and the other is to hunt down the creature in the cave that lies just outside our fortress," he said methodically.

I still couldn’t understand why a hunt was considered a form of punishment.

“So, which will it be?” the Master asked.