317 A Homily on Beginnings

[…My dear audience, it’s been some time since you’ve seen the world through my eyes. So much of the story I’ve shared with you lately belonged to my friends.]

I crumpled the parchment in my hand and watched it hiss into ash as my Searing Smite ignited it. A thin wisp of smoke curled upward like a question mark.

Two hours. I’d trapped myself in this room for two hours now, and people had been waiting outside for over fifteen minutes already. Their murmurs were a low hum through the door, like bees pressing against wax. It felt like only yesterday when Alice sat across from me and calmly revealed the truth about the corruption festering in the faith I was supposed to be cultivating. After her oh-so-inspiring speech, I didn’t really have a choice anymore. If I stayed passive, if I kept rejecting what I was, annihilation waited at the end of that path.

I sighed and rose from the chair, smoothing the folds of my holy raiment. So, what was I wearing? It was vanilla robes for priest NPCs from Losten, mainly black with a few streaks of white and gold. “Ugh,” I thought aloud. “Couldn’t I at least have prepared something better? I feel so... lacking...” A proper homily, some scripture, maybe a parable. But no. All I had was the raw need to communicate the lesson.

My boots scuffed on the wooden floor as I walked to the door. The heavy iron hinges groaned as I opened it, stepping into the dim hallway and then into the chapel proper. The scent of fresh plaster and incense clung to the air.

The “church” was small and barely more than a large underground hall hastily carved and reinforced. The walls were modest, with few iconographic touches, only a handful of painted murals, rough impressions of my battles, my allies, and my supposed miracles. The only centerpiece was behind me: a massive cross shaped like a sword stabbed into the earth, radiating a faint, holy light.

I walked up the stairs to the raised stage. The pews creaked as everyone shifted to face me. Familiar faces stared up at me: Alice at the far end, Da Ji leaning back with that infuriatingly confident smirk, Zhu Shin and Zhu Lian whispering to each other, Xue Xin quiet as a statue, Hei Ximei with her sharp, evaluating eyes, and even some Shadow Clan cultivators kneeling in reverence. Come on, no kneeling… never mind…

It should have been heartening. Instead, it felt like a weight across my shoulders. We should be out there, I thought bitterly. We should be out there harassing the Seven Imperial Households, buying Riverfall time, pressuring the Empire’s traitors before they crush us. Not sitting in an underground chapel while my Holy Spirit breaks his back finishing things with the Nameless City so Zai Ai can reveal the Hollow Star’s location.

I clenched my jaw. I’d been tempted so many times to leave, to break through the barrier, to rush to my Holy Spirit’s side. If only Alice could bring me with her planar spell. But it was too much strain for her. She’d already risked herself just making the trip to save Jue Bu. So here I was. I faked a cough, my voice echoing strangely off the rough walls. All their eyes were fixed on me. I honestly didn’t know what to say.

In my mind’s eye, I saw my Six Souls projected onto similar churches across the Hollowed World, each one mirroring this scene, waiting for me to speak.

I drew in a breath.

“My arrival in this world…” I began, my voice low and steady, “was like a meteor falling from the heavens. I was ignorant of the ways of this world… and so very, very lost about where I was.”

My Human Soul was with Nongmin, hidden in Riverfall Realm at Yellow Dragon City, already gathering people within a small church. That soul spoke confidently, in my own voice, preparing the way for me. My Animal Soul, a literal golden retriever, ridiculous as it sounded, was near the Nameless City, barking sermons beneath a ragged tent. My Heaven Soul lingered with the Promised Dunes, preaching behind closed doors, strengthened by the Radiant Queen’s grace. My Hell Soul, carried by Lu Gao, had made a rudimentary church of children deep in the Heavenly Temple’s territory, his voice like soft thunder to little ears. My Ghost Soul stood in New Willow, a pale little boy, managing to project himself with a strange dignity before throngs of citizens. And my Asura Soul? He preached in the prisoners’ camp, feeding on rage and defiance, finding believers among the desperate.

As for me… I was here. In front of expectant faces who wanted to see me, hear me, and learn what I had to say.

What I lacked in ceremony, I made up for with passion.

I breathed in, steadying my voice.

“Today, I speak of beginnings.”

Their eyes caught fire instantly.

“New beginnings,” I said, “are not just the start of something… They are hope itself. A reminder that even when everything seems broken, something can be reborn. Something fresh. Something that breathes.”

I paused, seeing the tension in their faces slacken, as they gave quiet nods.

“When I came to this world,” I continued, “I was stripped of everything familiar. I fell from the sky like a meteor, ignorant, confused, and lost. That was my beginning. It was painful in unique ways I couldn’t describe. It was also terrifying. And yet… it was also pure.”

I let that word hang in the air.

“Purity,” I explained, “is the essence of every beginning. When you first step onto a path, you don’t yet carry the weight of failure or corruption. The very act of beginning means you believe in a possibility, that there is a future, that something is worth chasing.”

I leaned forward, voice tightening with conviction.

“But beginnings are not just light. They come with fear. With challenges. With death itself lurking just around the corner. The only way to overcome these shadows is to be—” I smiled faintly, “just a little braver.”

A chuckle rippled across the pews. I guessed that was one reaction.

“Honestly, when I first arrived here, all I thought about was going home. That idea… that obsession… it was pure. Admirable even. But it wasn’t perfect. Because beginnings change you.”

I smirked, shaking my head at the memory.

“When I reached Yellow Dragon City, I found many beginnings. The first time I ate food from this world, I felt life fill me. The first time I found true friends, I thought I could belong here. And the first time I met those annoying young masters… Yeah, I might've gone a little rougher with a few of them, but I promise, I've been gentle.”

The people burst into laughter.

I chuckled with them, letting it settle. Then, my voice softened.

“Yes, some beginnings may end in tragedy. Not all stories unfold the way we want them to. But most beginnings… most beginnings never truly die. They remain within us, shaping us, guiding us, even when the world tries to bury them. In that way… beginnings are immortal. Eternal.”

I let silence fall, heavy but warm, before lowering my head. With that, my homily ended.

What’s next? Honestly, I had no idea. I’d been agonizing over what to do, what to say, and how to make it feel like a proper ceremony, but nothing came. Nothing but the ache in my chest that told me: Just speak from the heart. So that’s what I did.

“Pray with me,” I said, my voice steady though my palms trembled. “Bow your heads, close your eyes, and imagine the god within you… that little spark of light. Call to it.”

The benches creaked as people shifted. Heads lowered. Eyes closed. The faint light of lanterns flickered against the walls. I felt it then, an echo. My Six Souls, scattered across the world, mirroring me. Each of them was leading their own flock, repeating my words, resonating with me. A strange chorus of faith bound us together, and I could hear them in the silence of my mind.

I breathed deeply, then spoke.

“God within me, I pray… End the wars that take fathers from sons and mothers from daughters. End the plagues that rot the body and break the spirit. End the cruel deaths that fall on the innocent like thunder from the heavens.”

Their breath stirred in unison, a quiet sigh through the small church.

“End the proliferation of crime, corruption, and violence that poisons our cities and burns our homes. Heal the wounds of those who suffer in silence. Free us from the grip of greed and the hunger for power that devours the soul.”

I paused, feeling their faith pressing in, a collective yearning heavy in the air.

“Teach us, O god within, to be better. To not follow hatred when it whispers to us. To not strike with cruelty when we are wronged. Teach us to rise above the evil of our own hearts.”

I lifted my head, opened my eyes, and looked at them.

“Repeat after me,” I commanded softly.

They stirred, waiting.

“I shall follow not the evil of my heart,” I said, “but the godliness in me, forever guarding my soul.”

“I shall...”

The sound rolled through the little church, through the cracked stone, through the dust and wood.

“I shall not yield to despair when the world turns against me.”

“I shall...”

Their voices grew louder. I could almost feel the walls vibrating, as if the words themselves had weight.

“I shall not curse the sky for my suffering, but bless the earth for my strength.”

“I shall...”

My heart thundered. I didn’t even know where these words came from anymore. They rose from me like fire, like light spilling from cracks in my chest.

“I shall walk the road before me, even when it is dark.”

“I shall...”

The air shimmered. I wasn’t imagining it; tiny motes of light flickered around them, born of their devotion. My Six Souls trembled with resonance, their own flocks echoing the same chant. It was as if the whole world was calling back to me: I shall, I shall, I shall. When I considered ending it with a joke, I decided not to compromise the solemnity and seriousness of the situation. I swallowed, my throat tight.

“I shall protect the weak, cherish the innocent, and forgive those who repent.”

“I shall!”

It wasn’t a small crowd anymore. It wasn’t just this little underground church. It was the Promised Dunes, it was Riverfall, it was New Willow, it was every voice linked to me through my Six Souls. A river of faith rushed into me, warm and heavy.

“I shall stand, even when I fall.”

“I shall!”

Their voices thundered. The sword-shaped cross behind me seemed to blaze, its shadow stretching impossibly long.

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed, but I forced the last line out with all that I was:

“I shall live, not as a shadow of what I was… but as the beginning of what I will become!”

“I SHALL!”

It was like a storm breaking. I felt their belief sinking into me, raw and unpolished, but mine. It wrapped around me like chains of light. For the first time, I understood what Alice meant. Faith wasn’t about worship… It was about connection, about all of us vowing together, and standing together. And in that vow, in that roaring storm of “I shall,” I wasn’t just Da Wei, the lost man fumbling in another world. I was their paladin.

I finished the prayer with a deep breath. “Now,” I said softly, “open your eyes… lift your heads.”

They obeyed.

What met me were not the tired, heavy faces of men and women beaten by war, but eyes shining as if they had caught a spark from the heavens themselves. There was light in them, real light. That meant I did a good job, right?

I smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. “I don’t have much more to say. Honestly, I didn’t plan for this. I came here with empty hands and a stumbling tongue. But if tonight gave you strength… then hold on to it. Don’t lose it when you step back outside. Carry it with you in every breath, in every step. Because it’s not my words that matter. Instead, it’s what you do with them.”

A ripple of nods passed through the pews.

“So go,” I continued, finding my voice firmer than before, “and live as if today were a new beginning. Live braver, kinder, and truer. That’s all the sermon I have for you.”

A hush lingered, heavy but warm. Then, as they began to rise, I stepped back, bowing slightly to them, to their faith, and retreated deeper into the church.

The little room where I’d been fidgeting moments ago was dim and silent, the only light a flickering candle. I leaned against the wall, sliding down until I sat on the cold floor. My hands trembled. Tears came, spilling freely down my cheeks. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t joy. It wasn’t relief. Instead, it was just tears. They were raw, wordless, and indescribable. I didn’t try to stop them from coming.

"Man, that's so cheesy... But what the heck am I crying for?"