Charon walked past yet another campfire on his journey to the white tent he had been told was the hospital.
'Who knew soldiers were so good at putting fires together right after a battle?'
It had only been half an hour since the fighting ended, yet he had already seen dozens of the blazing rings dotting the muddy field.
He had initially hoped to sit down and enjoy one, but his shoulder seemed determined to remind him of his hectic charge earlier in the day.
'If I ever wake up in a pit again, I'll just sit there and wait, no more running off in random directions while fire falls from the sky!'
It was an odd rule to make, but Charon supposed it was an odd world he was living in.
'If this even is a world. As far as I know, this could be a small snowglobe sitting on some god's desk, watching me dance and spin for his entertainment.'
Charon hoped that wasn't the case, but he couldn't rule anything out quite yet.
Lifting the entrance flap of the tent, he peeked his head inside, hoping to identify the nurse or doctor who could treat him.
Three beds lined one side of the room, with the other containing a few shelves full of different books and tools. Two women in white uniforms were currently arranging more items, while a third, wearing gold, was reading one of the books, her elderly face set in a deep frown.
Only one of the beds was occupied, hosting another black soldier who seemed to be sleeping, his face strangely calm.
'Or maybe he passed out from pain. Medieval doctors aren't exactly known for being gentle.'
With that inspiring thought in his head, he entered the tent and approached the reading nurse with a smile, hoping it came across as disarming.
"I was told that this is where I could get medical treatment?"
The old woman took a minute before looking up, closing her book with a loud clack. Her brown eyes were hard and unforgiving, doing little to calm Charon's fears.
She glared at him before giving his body a quick scan.
"Dislocated shoulder? You Death worshippers are usually tougher than that. I see conscription hasn't been helping the Dark King as much as he would've liked."
The confused look on Charon's face caused her to shake her head.
"Both injured and stupid, a far too common combination."
'What is this woman on about? Death worshippers? A Dark King? Was the trial supposed to inform me about these things before sending me here?'
Charon was about to voice his questions when the nurse walked right past him, stopping at the shelves only for a moment to grab a yellow crystal, before turning back to him.
"Now stand still and say nothing, unless you want me to replicate your injury on the other arm."
Although he wasn't sure what she meant by that, Charon decided it was best not to make the woman any angrier than she already was.
'I couldn't imagine working with her every day, I'd rather be back on the battlefield!'
The nurse held the crystal in her right hand, lowering her head and muttering a few words before crushing it into a powder. The dust then floated off of her, coalescing into a small pillar and shooting towards Charon's shoulder, impacting it with a quiet thud.
Unlike the pain he was expecting, Charon instead felt a strange chilling sensation, followed by the feeling of his shoulder popping back into place.
His mouth fell open in shock, having expected a more modern medical approach rather than this open use of magic.
'Usually only the richest can afford to hire a magic healer! How lucky am I to get one in this hell?'
Opening his mouth to thank the woman, he instead found her brushing past him to get back to her book, dismissing him with a sneer.
"Stop your gawking and get out of here! It's enough that you keep me and my fellow faithful here against our will, we don't need to deal with your heretical eyes as well!"
The puzzled look he gave her seemed to make matters worse, as she raised a single bony finger towards the entrance.
"Leave now, or I don't care what they do to me, I will meet your god with his loyal servants following me."
Remembering how easily she crushed the crystal, Charon whirled around and left without another word.
'What the hell is her problem? I didn't do anything to her!'
Thinking it over for a minute, he scowled, a new possibility in his mind.
'Maybe she was conscripted just like I was, and that's why she is so upset?'
The thought led to another.
'Am I even still conscripted? It's been hours since I was on the stage. What if to them, I just vanished, and now I'm a wanted fugitive for evading the draft?'
It was a worrying thing to consider, he could finish this trial only to be released into the wild and get hunted by the government.
He was interrupted by a strong hand grabbing his freshly healed arm.
"Good to see you got it healed! I was worried you would've forgotten my directions before you got there!"
Emirius' upbeat voice was strangely calming, making Charon's worries feel less present.
'I still don't know how this guy knows me, or how I know him, but asking questions like that won't do me any good right now.'
Turning to the tall soldier, Charon gave him a half smile.
"Yeah, I'm not that stupid. The nurse was a jerk, though, and I don't know why."
Emerius just shrugged half heartedly.
"Who knows why slaves do anything? I just try not to think about it. Lets go get your Sigil now, the priest is officiating them."
Before he could respond, he felt himself being dragged towards the edge of the camp.
'Gods, does this guy ever ask? And what did he mean by slaves?'
Before he could answer, Emerius continued talking.
"As this is your first Sigil, I wouldn't expect anything impressive. Most people just end up with a basic ability like better eyesight or faster reflexes, but the devoutly loyal to Death wind up with something more interesting."
Jabbing his finger towards his back, the man smirked proudly.
"My first Sigil gave me the ability to sense if someone near me was close to death, which is how I found you by that corpse earlier."
Listening intently to everything he was being told, Charon hoped to learn a little more about what these Sigils were.
"So what exactly are they? The Sigils, I mean."
That caused Emerius to pause mid-step, turning to face Charon with one eyebrow raised.
"You really must've hit your head hard to forget that! Who doesn't know what a Sigil is? You'd have to have been born under a rock!"
Seeing the annoyed look on his ally's face, the man sighed, shaking his head.
"Fine, fine. Sigils are physical markings priests place on your body that allow the God of Death to grant you a power he deems fitting. Each Sigil you get is more powerful than the last, and that's only the Sigils. There are also other kinds of markings, but you'd have to do something pretty incredible to earn one of those."
Satisfied with the explanation, Charon began to consider everything his… friend… was saying.
'So it's kind of like the System back home, except placed on your body rather than part of an implant. It's probably what ancient civilizations did before technology evolved! How have I never read about it before?'
Only a minute later, Charon would find himself disturbed from his musings by a large gathering of people circling a piece of black cloth. Purple runes were marked all over it, and a single man stood in the center.
He wore robes as dark as coals, with a purple skull drawn on both his back and his hood. Charon couldn't see the top half of the priest's face, a mysterious darkness shrouding it, leaving only a sharp chin and light stubble revealed to the light.
As more gathered, the man spoke loudly, allowing everyone to listen.
"Today we have honored the God of Death by spilling the blood of his enemies, sending their souls into his eternal embrace!"
Cheers erupted from the crowd while Charon watched on, hoping to learn more from the speech.
"The battle may have been won, but the war is far from over! Tomorrow, we continue our assault and reach the fortress the servants of the Blood Monger call home! Once there, we shall tear them out and slaughter them for Death, reclaiming his stolen artifact and reasserting our dominance over these lands!"
More cheers exploded, the soldiers almost too energetic about the coming fight.
Charon didn't pay them much attention, instead focusing on the goal the priest had just revealed.
'So we are reclaiming a artifact for the God of Death! That must be what the trial is, seeing if I can help take it back!'
He also learned what the trial would require for completion: Attacking and successfully conquering a fortress alongside the other worshippers of death.
'Up until now, I haven't had to fight for more than a bit of food, and now I'm marching in an army to take over a heavily defended position. What the hell are the gods doing to me…'
"However, before the future is upon us, we must reward the deeds of the past! You may now come forward and declare for those among you who have successfully sent their first souls into Death's embrace!"
Before the priest had even closed his mouth, Emerius pushed through the crowd and stood before everyone.
"I have a man to declare! The one behind me took his first life, and one of those blessed by the God of Blood no less!"
Charon knew what was coming next.
'Gods damn it, Emerius!'
"I declare Charon!"