The church loomed ahead, its silhouette sharp against the dark sky. Its doors were shut tight—too tight for this hour. Von hesitated for only a moment before pushing one open with a forceful shove. The creak echoed loudly in the stillness.
Inside, it was empty. The rows of pews stood undisturbed under faint shafts of moonlight spilling through narrow windows.
"Something's not right," Von muttered under his breath.
Vel swallowed hard as they moved further inside, their footsteps muffled by worn rugs covering the stone floor. At the back of the church was a small door leading to private quarters—a room designated for someone who stayed overnight to tend to emergencies or maintain watch over the sacred space.
Von knocked on it sharply before pushing it open when no answer came. Inside sat a woman in modest robes, scribbling notes by candlelight.
She looked up, startled by their sudden entrance. "What is it? Visitors should not be here this hour."
"Landre," Von said curtly, his voice steady but firm. "Did she come here today?"
The woman shook her head slowly, confusion knitting her brow. "No... I haven't seen her all day."
Von's jaw clenched, neck muscles taut. Vel felt his father's unease pressing down on him like a suffocating weight.
"She's been gone since morning," Von said slowly, his words heavy. His gaze locked on the woman, sharp enough to cut through steel. "She always comes back before evening."
The woman in robes hesitated, her fingers gripping the quill she held as if anchoring herself. "I... I'm sorry. I truly haven't seen her."
Vel's stomach churned as he stepped closer, his voice quieter but urgent. "Lan-neechan always works with someone here... a young acolyte. Do you know who he is?"
Her expression softened with recognition. "You must mean Trinon," she said after a brief pause. "He often assists her. A diligent young man."
Von straightened, crossing his arms as he loomed over her desk like a shadow. "Then where is this Trinon now? Can we find him?"
She frowned faintly and shook her head apologetically. "He isn't here at night—only during the day. If you return tomorrow morning, I'm sure you can speak with him then."
Vel's stomach twisted. That wasn't good enough.
"Morning is too late," Von growled, barely masking the irritation simmering in his tone. "Where does he live?"
The woman faltered under Von's intensity but eventually shook her head again, more firmly this time. "We don't keep records of where our acolytes reside unless they choose to share that information themselves." She looked almost regretful as she added softly, "I wish I could help more."
Vel bit down on the inside of his cheek until it hurt, trying to think through the panic clawing at him. His mind spun with possibilities—where could Landre have gone? Why hadn't she come back?
Von didn't reply immediately; instead, he exhaled sharply through flared nostrils before turning on his heel toward the door.
Vel followed without a word, struggling to keep up with Von's long strides as they exited into the cold night air once more.
Von's boots struck the cobblestones purposefully as Vel struggled to match his father's pace, his shorter legs working overtime.
As they passed under the dim glow of a lamp post, a figure emerged from the shadows. The man wore the familiar robes of the church, their folds swaying lightly with his movements. His hood obscured most of his face, casting an uneven shadow that flickered with the lamplight.
YOU ARE READING
GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation
FantasyWhen renowned game developer Giri meets his untimely end, he awakens as twelve-year-old Vel in the magical realm of Aeonalus-his own creation. Five hundred years have passed since he crafted the world, and Vel finds himself in the village of Oakhave...
