Part 3 – The Path of Light
See part 2 here.
When we left off, Cyrillian had a new goal in sight – the town of ‘Concord’. Transported into a hellish dimension by the devil, he was on a quest to find God, escape, and defeat Satan once and for all.
Perhaps, once upon a time, the wilderness beyond the settlement of Sanctuary was a lush, natural wonder. Now, however, it is lifeless and dead – with the dried-out trees and rotting grass surrounding him at every step.
The crusader maintains a quick pace, seeking any signs of life. While the robot had said that Concord was south, south-west – the Crusader did not believe it. The automaton’s intentions had been pure, but as an unliving vessel, made by man and not by God, its word was not something Cyrillian was willing to accept.
And so, he embarked on his own path.
It was a path the crusader knew would be dangerous.
It did not surprise Cyrillian, therefore, that Satan would send his hell-hounds to attack him.
With zeal and fury, Cyrillian dispatches the hounds. They are no match for the bare hands of the crusader.
With the hell-hounds dispatched, Cyrillian continues. He comes upon a shack. Little more than a ruined dwelling. Could it belong to a survivor? The crusader was already convinced he was alone in this hellish world. Yet, the hope of meeting another stayed with him. The thought of encountering another pilgrim on the path to God’s light.
His hopes are dashed. Immediately beset upon by another rabid hound, Cyrillian is bitten numerous times before he is able to destroy the vile creature.
In the shack the Crusader’s hopes are dashed. There is nothing but a single body, along with a few meagre supplies.
The devil was taunting Cyrillian, now. Offering naught but mirages of hope in a sea of despair.
But the Crusader would never be beaten. Not while the air still coursed through his lungs.
As night fell, there was still no sign of ‘Concord’. Perhaps, as the automaton said, it was to the south afterall. The word of a metallic creature, however, was not something Cyrillian was willing to contemplate believing. Not yet.
Removing the thick overcoat, and stripping a few of his heavy outer-layers, the crusader dons a lighter apparell. With that, the crusader decides upon one last foray into the wilderness, before he investigates the automaton’s words.
Cyrillian’s efforts are rewarded. He encounters a small wall – perhaps the remains of a castle – littered with skeletons. Clearly, this place was the site of a great battle. The defenders, it seemed, had attained victory.
Now, however, the rampart remained abandoned.
The crusader proceeds onwards, finding what can only be described as construction equipment – despite its strange appearance. It was made of metal, steel – yet Cyrillian knew of no material that could support such size or weight. It was that reason that he knew the world in which he had found himself was not real. It was a mirage, a test, or perhaps even a realistic dream. But he knew one thing – he would find his way out. He would best Satan’s devious ploys.
Further along, Cyrillian discovers more cryptic technology. A cabin, overlooking a giant cog.
This… this could only be some cryptic pagan ritual site. Such vile heresy would not take heart within the Crusader.
The crusader studies the ritual site further. His hound-ally seems uninterested, and indeed, it was a bland and uninteresting site. Shaking his head, Cyrillian turns southwards.
With haste, Cyrillian proceeds back into Sanctuary. He selects one of the ruined dwellings, and prepares to rest for the night.
By the next morning, the crusader was on the move again. He was by this point becoming accustomed to this doomed world. He proceeds south out of the destroyed settlement, finding a river.
Water. A flowing river. Such a thing Cyrillian did not dream he would come across. To the crusader, it spelled out a glimmer of hope, in a world that was overcome with darkness. God was out there, he knew it. Guiding him. Now the crusader knew he was going in the right direction.
After some more travelling, through the burned and dead trees, he spots it.
A larger settlement. A town, even. Not dissimilar to the one he woke up next to.
Cyrillian moves to higher ground. There, among the strange buildings, he spots what he has been searching for. The great spire of a church. The holy ground he had sought. A shining beacon in this dead world. There, he would find answers. His path to righteousness, his means to destroy Satan once and for all. They lay a mere stone’s throw away.
But first, he had to make it there.
This settlement, this town, is larger and more densely packed than any Cyrillian had seen before. Yet, navigating it was not too difficult.
Always, the great church spire reached into the sky. It was his guide, his beckoning hand. His salvation.
As he navigates these lifeless streets, he draws closer to his objective.
Soon it is but a single street between Cyrillian and the church. His hound remains at his side.
The crusader breaks into a run, a fully-fledged sprint. Once he reached the church, he would find his salvation. He would leave this world and be a better man, a better believer, for it. He could practically feel God’s warmth as he came closer to the hallowed ground.
What happens next? Find out in Part 4!
It's Only A Model 