Chapter 110 - An Inhumanly Bizarre Doctrine

  Gideon’s laughter echoed across the pristine city square, a deep, hearty sound that carried warmth despite the overwhelming divine presence radiating from his massive form. His amusement was not cruel, nor mocking; it was filled with genuine conviction, a certainty that only a man of unwavering faith could possess.

  He was entirely convinced of what he had witnessed—Adam had taken a direct hit from ‘Divine Smite’ and remained unharmed. That could only mean one thing in his mind: The boy was blessed, touched by the goddess Arianka herself, not a creature of darkness as his abilities might suggest.

  The paladin, towering in his gleaming golden armor, his pristine white cape billowing slightly from the residual energy of his attack, took a step forward. The sheer pressure of his aura made the air thick and suffocating, an invisible weight pressing down on everything around him. For Adam, still on the ground, this presence was crushing. His muscles refused to respond, his breath felt constrained, and an unnatural heaviness kept him pinned as though his body itself rejected movement in the presence of such pure energy.

  Gideon extended a hand, his armored gauntlet open, palm facing downward. The divine glow that surrounded him pulsed with gentle radiance, almost inviting in its intensity. His voice was still rich with amusement as he spoke.

  "Come now, my friend! There’s no need for such hesitation."

  Gideon declared, his voice brimming with the confidence of a man whose faith had just been reaffirmed.

  "I may have misjudged you at first, but the goddess has made her will known. You are no enemy of the light. Stand, warrior, and walk among us."

  The offer should have been harmless. To any other person, it was simply a helping hand. But Adam knew better. His mind worked at a frantic pace, analyzing every possibility, every risk, every consequence. This was a problem… A serious one.

  He knew what would happen if he touched that hand. The divine energy surrounding Gideon wasn’t just for show; it was a tangible force, an oppressive aura that would no doubt react to any impurity within him. He had experienced it before—during his sparring matches with Drake.

  When they fought, whenever Drake's ‘Imperial Ki’ infused his strikes, Adam had felt its effects like searing fire consuming his very being. It didn’t kill him outright, but it hurt, it burned, and it left marks that took time to fade. If similar energy coursed through Gideon’s body, then accepting his hand would be akin to setting himself ablaze in front of an audience.

  And yet… Nothing had happened when ‘Divine Smite’ struck him.

  That was the contradiction, the impossible scenario that made his thoughts spiral. He had been prepared to suffer under the full force of that attack, prepared to endure unimaginable pain or even face death. But the moment the divine energy had engulfed him, it had simply… done nothing. He had remained untouched, not a single mark on his body, not even the faintest sting of divine rejection. The paladin saw this as proof of a blessing, but Adam knew the truth—he had no such divine protection, at least none that he was aware of.

  So why had he survived unscathed? And, more importantly, would this immunity extend to direct contact?

  That was the real danger. He couldn’t afford to take that chance. There was too much he didn’t understand, too many unknown variables. Just because one attack had failed to harm him didn’t mean the same rule would apply to everything. It could have been a fluke, a one-time anomaly that wouldn’t repeat itself. If he reached for Gideon’s hand and the divine energy reacted, it wouldn’t just be pain—it would be exposure. The moment he recoiled in agony, the paladin would know the truth.

  Adam hesitated, and a second passed… Then another.

  He had to respond—he couldn’t just remain frozen under Gideon’s expectant gaze. His mind raced through every possible excuse, every plausible reason to avoid direct contact without raising suspicion. Then, finally, he lifted his right hand—not toward Gideon, but slightly in front of himself, palm outward, as if politely declining. His voice, when it came, was calm and measured, though beneath the surface, tension coiled like a steel wire ready to snap.

  "No need, Sir, thank you."

  Adam said smoothly, keeping his tone as natural as possible.

  "I appreciate the offer, but I can stand on my own."

  For a brief moment, silence settled between them. Then, once again, Gideon let out a booming laugh.

  "Nonsense! There is no shame in accepting the hand of a brother-in-arms!"

  The paladin exclaimed, shaking his head. Before Adam could react, before he could so much as flinch, Gideon’s armored hand closed around his forearm in a firm, unyielding grip.

  Adam’s breath caught while the world around him slowed to a crawl.

  Every muscle in his body locked up as he braced for the inevitable pain, for the searing agony of divine energy scorching his skin. His instincts screamed at him to retreat, to tear himself free, to run before his body was consumed.

  But nothing happened.

  The energy was there—he could feel it, radiating through the gauntlet that held him. It was warm, oppressive, an undeniable presence pressing against his flesh. Yet, instead of burning, instead of rejecting him, it simply existed around him, enveloping him without causing harm. It was like standing in sunlight rather than fire, like being surrounded by a force that should be dangerous, yet failing to ignite.

  Gideon pulled him up in one effortless motion, his strength lifting Adam as though he weighed nothing.

  The boy exhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral, even as his mind reeled. This made no sense. This was divine energy—there was no doubt about it. He wasn’t being shielded by any external force, no hidden skill or ability had been activated to protect him. He was simply… unaffected.

  But why? What had changed?

  Gideon, completely oblivious to the turmoil raging inside Adam’s thoughts, clapped him on the shoulder with a firm pat, his laughter still echoing through the air.

  "Good! That’s the spirit! The goddess truly works in mysterious ways."

  He said, beaming. Adam forced himself to nod, his expression carefully composed.

  "Uh… Indeed…"

  He murmured, but inside, the question remained. What exactly had happened to him? And what did it mean?

  The tension in the air had barely begun to settle when Gideon’s gaze shifted, his heavy helmet tilting slightly as his eyes swept across the gathered individuals. His divine aura still radiated strength, his very presence commanding attention, yet his voice, when it came, carried only curiosity rather than hostility.

  "So, are these your companions?"

  He asked, his voice deep and resonant, though now free of suspicion.

  "At first, it seemed as if you were with them, but I thought they were mere followers of a vampire. I see now that I was mistaken."

  Adam, who had just begun to regain his composure, felt a fresh wave of unease creep through him. His heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to turn toward his team. His throat felt tight, his mind racing for the right response.

  "Y-yes, they are my companions."

  He stammered, struggling to keep his voice steady. There was no use in denying it. The soldiers were already eyeing his team, their suspicion barely masked beneath their disciplined expressions. As soon as Adam spoke, the rest of his group began moving closer, their steps slow, cautious. Each of them understood the gravity of the situation—this wasn’t just a casual misunderstanding. If handled poorly, it could spiral into something far worse.

  One of the soldiers, a man clad in the same pristine white and gold uniform as the others, stepped forward. His sharp gaze flickered between Adam and his companions before he spoke.

  "A group this large, should have been registered upon arrival. Especially when traveling with a 'saint' like yourself."

  He said, his tone measured yet carrying an unmistakable edge of doubt. Adam stiffened. He could feel the weight of the soldier’s scrutiny, the subtle but growing suspicion in the air. He glanced at his team, their expressions ranging from neutral to unreadable. They had to come up with something—quickly.

  Then, before anyone could respond, a shadow dropped from above.

  Drake landed with a controlled yet forceful impact, his feet touching the stone pavement with practiced grace. He remained unfazed despite the growing tension in the square, his posture composed, his grip firm around the figure still in his grasp—Takeshi Fuma, who dangled from his hand like a captured prey. Despite his usual composure, the silver-haired ninja looked thoroughly unamused.

  Drake’s voice rang out with confidence, smooth and unwavering.

  "We are mere pilgrims, we did not announce ourselves upon entering because we wished to honor the goddess with humility."

  He declared, lifting his chin slightly. The moment the words left his lips, a shift occurred in the atmosphere.

  Then, without warning, Drake let loose his ‘Imperial Ki’, unleashing it with such force that the very air trembled. The energy surged outward in a wave of divine power, strong enough to make the gathered soldiers instinctively step back, their disciplined formations faltering under the unexpected force. Loose dust and debris were kicked up from the sheer pressure alone, swirling around Drake as though drawn into his presence. His golden energy crackled like a storm contained within a human frame, his sheer willpower manifesting into something tangible, undeniable.

  Everyone recoiled, everyone except Gideon.

  Though his helmet obscured most of his features, there was something unmistakable in his stance, in the way he remained completely still despite the overwhelming force before him. Even without seeing his face, there was an undeniable certainty—he was grinning.

  The paladin took a single step forward, as if drawn by some unseen force, and then suddenly let out a thunderous, almost euphoric laugh.

  "Marvelous!"

  Gideon’s voice boomed, carrying across the square.

  "Absolutely marvelous! Not just one, but two young men, so clearly blessed by the goddess herself! And at such a young age! The heavens truly shine upon us today!"

  Adam’s blood ran cold. His mind barely registered Gideon’s words before he felt the paladin’s expectant gaze land on him again, the sheer admiration in his voice making it painfully clear—he was serious.

  "Praise be!"

  Gideon continued, his excitement undeterred.

  "That you both have made this holy pilgrimage to Celestia Sanctum is nothing short of divine will! The path before you is clear—the goddess has called you, and your ascension as paladins begins today!"

  What?... Adam’s thoughts screeched to a halt. He turned his head slowly toward Drake, whose expression was just as frozen, just as lost. Their eyes met, both of them struggling to comprehend what had just been said.

  Why had Drake said that? Before Adam could even begin to process this, Gideon’s attention shifted once more, this time toward the struggling figure in Drake’s grasp. His posture straightened slightly, his voice regaining some of its usual authority.

  "And who is this?"

  He asked, gesturing toward Takeshi.

  "Why do you hold him in such a manner? Is he a criminal?"

  Drake exhaled, and without hesitation, loosened his grip, letting Takeshi drop onto his feet. The ninja immediately adjusted his posture, rubbing his neck in irritation, though he remained silent.

  "No, he is simply another one of our companions. The impact from earlier nearly sent him flying—I only held onto him to prevent him from being injured."

  Drake answered smoothly. Gideon seemed to consider this explanation for a moment before nodding.

  "Ah, I see. Then there is nothing to concern ourselves with."

  The paladin’s posture shifted, his energy still strong, but now carrying an undeniable air of finality. He turned back to Adam and Drake, his armored gauntlets tightening briefly before he spoke again.

  "Then there is no more to discuss."

  He declared, his voice leaving no room for argument.

  "I will personally escort you to the Great Cathedral of the Goddess Arianka, where you will begin your holy communion at once."

  Adam felt his stomach drop. Panic clawed at his throat, though he did his best to keep it from showing. His pulse quickened, and for the first time since this conversation had begun, his mind failed to find a clear escape route. He knew—he knew—that if they allowed this to happen, they would be walking straight into a disaster.

  He had to stop this.

  "No! That’s not necessary."

  Adam said, quickly, almost too quickly. He took a step forward, his voice firm yet edged with the underlying tension of someone desperately trying to prevent a catastrophe.

  "We are honored, truly, but we are merely travelers. We do not wish to impose—"

  Gideon waved off his words with a dismissive chuckle, as though Adam had just made a lighthearted joke.

  "Nonsense!"

  The paladin declared, clapping a hand on Adam’s shoulder, his strength nearly making Adam stumble.

  "To deny this moment would be both a dishonor to myself and an offense to the goddess! You have come this far, and I will see to it that you receive the divine guidance that has been so clearly meant for you!"

  Adam’s stomach twisted further. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. There was no arguing with a man so utterly convinced of his own righteousness. Gideon then turned to his soldiers, his voice commanding as ever.

  "Return to your posts! I will take full responsibility for these young aspirants!"

  Without hesitation, the soldiers saluted, then turned sharply and began dispersing. The moment they were gone, Gideon turned back to Adam, his posture relaxed, yet his excitement still palpable.

  "Come now! There is no need to delay! The cathedral awaits!"

  Adam’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His body remained outwardly composed, but inside, his mind was screaming.

  However, with no other viable options available, the group exchanged uneasy glances before silently coming to the same conclusion—there was no escaping this without drawing immediate suspicion. Reluctantly, they followed behind Gideon, who led the march with unshakable confidence, his imposing armored form moving with the steady gait of a man completely assured of his path.

  As they walked, he suddenly lifted his voice, singing a holy hymn in a rich, deep tone that reverberated through the clean, open streets.

  "? O mighty Arianka, our guiding light,

  Through holy trials, we prove our might.

  With sword and shield, with faith so true,

  We cleanse the world, we stand for You! ?"

  Adam barely managed to keep his face neutral. The song was embarrassingly corny, filled with an almost obsessive devotion to the goddess. But Gideon sang it with such conviction, his voice booming through the streets, that it was hard to ignore. The other soldiers, now long gone, had avoided joining in, leaving the paladin’s resonant hymn as the only sound aside from their own footsteps.

  Taking the opportunity, Adam subtly moved closer to Drake, who still walked near Takeshi, keeping a careful eye on him. Lowering his voice, Adam finally asked the question that had been gnawing at him.

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  "How did you come up with that so fast? Saying we were pilgrims—because that was the right move."

  Drake didn’t even glance at him. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, his expression remaining neutral.

  "It wasn’t me, it was him."

  He admitted after a short pause. Adam’s brow furrowed as he turned his gaze toward the silver-haired ninja. Takeshi didn’t acknowledge the attention, his focus seemingly fixed ahead, as if he hadn’t heard their conversation. Narrowing his eyes, Adam pressed further.

  "And why did you let him go?"

  Drake finally looked at him, his face calm, as if the answer should have been obvious.

  "Because it was a thank-you."

  He replied.

  "The moment Gideon attacked you and saw that it didn’t work, he immediately told me that if we didn’t want trouble, we had to claim we were pilgrims. He’s the reason I even said it. Besides, I’ve seen what he can do. If he tries to run, I can stop him again."

  He continued, flexing his fingers slightly. At that moment, Takeshi finally turned his head slightly, his eyes glinting behind his mask as he spoke.

  "I didn’t exactly have another choice, if you all got in trouble with the Sacred Order of Paladins, I’d be dragged down with you. Helping you was just as much for me as it was for you."

  He said flatly. Adam frowned at that, his mind working through the logic.

  "That doesn’t make sense, even if you helped us, there was no guarantee we wouldn’t turn you in anyway. We could have just told Gideon you were a criminal, like he originally suspected."

  He countered, however, Takeshi let out a quiet, amused chuckle. He didn’t stop walking, didn’t even turn his head fully, but his voice carried a confidence that made Adam’s irritation spike.

  "That’s not going to happen, I never worried about that."

  The ninja said simply. Adam narrowed his eyes.

  "And why is that?"

  Takeshi tilted his head slightly forward, his posture relaxed as he kept his gaze ahead.

  "Because I knew you wouldn’t."

  He murmured. There was a moment of silence before he added.

  "Didn’t I say it already? You guys are good people. I knew I’d be safe."

  Adam felt a twitch of annoyance rise in his chest. There was something about the casual certainty in Takeshi’s words that bothered him. It wasn’t arrogance, nor was it manipulation. It was just... assurance. Like he genuinely believed in the words he was saying.

  Before Adam could respond, Drake’s hand suddenly clapped on his shoulder. His grip was firm but not forceful, and when Adam looked at him, the blond wore his usual, relaxed smile.

  "He’s not wrong, you know, even if you don’t like hearing it."

  Drake said easily. Adam let out a slow exhale, choosing not to respond. Instead, he turned his gaze toward their surroundings, taking in the full scope of the Holy City of Celestia Sanctum.

  It was breathtaking…

  The streets were immaculate, as if untouched by time or decay. The buildings, constructed of pristine white stone, stood tall and proud, their golden rooftops glinting under the sunlight. Ornate statues of armored warriors and celestial beings adorned every corner, their craftsmanship so detailed that they seemed almost lifelike. Along the wide roads, intricate patterns of holy runes were embedded into the pavement, glowing faintly with residual divine energy.

  As they moved deeper into the city, they saw more paladins patrolling the area, each one clad in gleaming armor similar to Gideon’s, though none bore the same commanding presence he did. Their watchful eyes flickered toward the group, but no one stopped them—Gideon’s presence alone was enough to justify their passage.

  Then, something changed, a shadow passed overhead. The moment it happened, every member of the group instinctively looked up, and what they saw made their breath catch.

  High above them, another colossal warrior moved through the air, its massive armored frame rivaling even Gideon’s. But unlike Gideon, this one had golden wings, each feather shimmering with divine energy, and strapped to its back was a sword wreathed in living fire. It glowed with an intensity that made it difficult to look at directly, the heat distorting the air around it.

  For several long seconds, no one spoke. The sheer presence of the armored figure soaring above them had left an undeniable weight upon the air, pressing against their senses with the sheer magnitude of its divine aura. It was more than just the spectacle of a warrior in flight—it was the realization that power on such a scale was simply normal in this place.

  That beings who could rend the sky and wield flames as weapons were not myths, but enforcers of divine will, moving among the populace as if their existence was as mundane as the city’s pristine streets.

  Takeshi finally let out a slow, exasperated sigh, his voice breaking the eerie stillness left in the warrior’s wake.

  "You might as well get used to it, this place is completely insane."

  He muttered, shaking his head. Adam couldn’t argue with that. Every step deeper into Celestia Sanctum only reinforced that this city, with its unnaturally perfect architecture and omnipresent divine energy, was a world apart from anything they had known before. It wasn’t just holy—it was meticulously crafted to embody an ideal of purity, an unshakable belief in the perfection of the goddess and her chosen. And that perfection had weight, had rules, had an iron grip that shaped everything within its reach.

  Before anyone could dwell further, Gideon let out another booming laugh, his deep voice cutting through the lingering tension like a blade of pure conviction. He turned his head toward them, his presence as unwavering as ever, and gestured toward the sky where the winged titan had vanished.

  "Magnificent, isn’t it?"

  He said, his words brimming with pride.

  "That, my friends, was a Paladin Champion."

  He came to a stop, turning fully toward them, his heavy armor shifting with a metallic scrape. Despite his imposing frame, there was no hostility in his stance—only a deep, unshakable reverence, the kind that came not from duty, but faith.

  "There are ranks among those chosen by the goddess."

  He continued, his voice steady, each word carrying the weight of centuries of tradition.

  "When an initiate passes the trial set forth by our beloved Arianka, they become paladins. But within our sacred order, there exist four ranks. The first are the Paladin Acolytes, those newly ascended into the light, the fresh disciples who take their first steps upon the path of righteousness."

  His gaze swept across them, as if already envisioning their place among those ranks. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he raised his gauntleted hand and gestured toward himself.

  "Then come the Paladin Knights—those like myself, who have demonstrated unwavering faith and proven ourselves worthy through our deeds. We are the vanguard, the unwavering shield of the goddess, the executioners of her divine will."

  He lifted his gaze toward the sky once more, his armored hand tightening into a fist.

  "And beyond us stand the Paladin Champions—heroes among even our sacred brotherhood, the leaders of holy battalions, the warriors whose devotion has been tempered in the fires of war. Their souls are closest to the goddess, their strength blessed beyond mortal limits. They are the shining stars of Arianka’s will, the chosen few who stand at the precipice of divinity itself."

  His voice dipped lower then, not in volume, but in reverence. The way his tone softened, the way his presence seemed to settle, made it clear that what he was about to say was something sacred, something that existed on the edge of mortal understanding.

  "And at the highest rank of all… There are only three. The Paladin Paragons."

  His words hung in the air like an unspoken gospel, reverberating with something larger than simple belief.

  "Their strength, their purity of soul, is so absolute that the goddess herself shares her power with them directly."

  Gideon said, his voice filled with something bordering on worship.

  "They do not act of their own accord, nor do they tread upon mortal soil without reason. They move only when the goddess commands it—when divine mandate calls them forth from their sacred temples. And as far as I know…"

  He exhaled slowly, his golden aura dimming slightly, as if the thought itself carried the weight of history.

  "That has not happened in hundreds of years."

  The group stood in uneasy silence, their minds struggling to absorb the fanaticism behind his words. There was no doubt in Gideon’s tone, no room for interpretation. To him, and to every follower of Arianka in this city, these were not just warriors. They were living embodiments of divinity, beings whose power was seen as proof of their righteousness, of their right to rule, to judge, to destroy in the name of their goddess.

  Adam swallowed hard, his mind racing. How could anyone fight against something like that? Not just the power, but the belief behind it?

  Before he could dwell on it further, a voice cut through the air, light and curious.

  "So, how exactly do you prove merit to the goddess?"

  Kazue asked, stepping forward slightly, her expression a mixture of intrigue and caution. Gideon’s reaction was immediate. His booming laughter returned, his joy unshaken by the shift in topic.

  "Ah! A bright young soul, eager to learn!"

  He declared, his voice full of approval.

  "You are not yet a saint, but already your heart reaches for the divine. A truly admirable trait!"

  Then, his tone changed. It was subtle—so subtle that, at first, it was easy to mistake it for mere conviction. The warmth in his voice remained, the pride still present. But beneath it, like the faintest whisper in a storm, there was something else. Something colder. Something wrong.

  "By killing vampires and giants, of course."

  Gideon said without hesitation.

  "The more we slay, the greater our merit in the eyes of the goddess."

  The words came so easily, so naturally, that it took a moment for the weight of them to settle in the air.

  Adam’s breath hitched while the others stiffened. The silence that followed was not just shock—it was something far more profound.

  Gideon had not spoken with hatred. There was no malice in his tone, no anger, no righteous fury. He had said it the way one might describe a mundane task, a duty as simple as breathing. As if the taking of life—of specific lives—was not murder, not war, but devotion.

  Adam’s fingers curled into his palms. He could feel the tension in his chest, the unease coiling tighter with every second. He didn’t dare glance at the others, didn’t need to—he already knew they had all come to the same realization.

  Takeshi had been right. Something was very, very wrong with this place.

  Gideon turned without hesitation, continuing his march toward the towering temple that loomed in the distance, his heavy armor clanking with each step. His stride remained confident, unwavering, as though the conversation that had just transpired was nothing more than idle chatter. The casual ease with which he had spoken of extermination, of suffering as a divine mandate, still lingered in the air, suffocating and cold despite the paladin’s own warmth.

  It was as if he could not comprehend that such words carried weight beyond religious devotion, that the horrors he described were anything but righteous.

  Kazue, walking slightly behind him, still had a disturbed look on her face. Her fingers fidgeted slightly as she glanced toward Adam, then to Drake, as if silently asking for confirmation that she had just heard what she had heard. Her lips parted slightly before she finally found the courage to speak again, though her voice wavered.

  "S-so… you mean… defeating vampires and giants… in war, right?"

  Her tone was careful, hesitant, as though she were desperately hoping she had misunderstood. That what Gideon had said was some elaborate miscommunication, that his meaning had been lost in the overwhelming weight of his faith.

  Gideon did not slow his steps. He did not even turn his head. Instead, he simply laughed again, the deep, almost jovial sound echoing through the streets.

  "Yes, of course!"

  He said, the amusement still rich in his voice.

  "In war, it is natural to destroy the dark creatures who seek to taint the world with their filth. But make no mistake—this is not simply a matter of battlefields and armies."

  His pace remained steady, but the words that followed chilled the group to their core.

  "The goddess’ decree is absolute. Every vampire, every giant, must be eliminated in every crusade. Their cities must be burned, their homes razed to the ground, their very existence erased. Women, children, the elderly, warriors—it makes no difference. The eradication must be total."

  Gideon lifted his hand slightly as if gesturing toward the sky, his voice filled with almost reverent joy.

  "And if they suffer in the process? ..."

  He chuckled and then continued.

  "...All the better. Their screams of agony, their pathetic pleas for mercy—those are the sounds of darkness being purged. What could be more holy than to witness evil tremble before the light of the goddess?"

  A sharp, visceral disgust twisted through the group. Chloe had stopped walking for half a second, her hands clenched into fists, her usually playful expression wiped clean into something that hovered between shock and revulsion. Kazue looked visibly pale, her lips slightly parted as if she wanted to say something—anything—but no words came out. Gregor’s expression was carved from stone, unreadable, but his fingers twitched, his stance rigid.

  Even Takeshi, who had seemed indifferent to the fanaticism in this place, let out a slow, measured breath through his mask.

  Adam felt something hot clawing at his chest, something sharp and suffocating. He had heard enough. His voice, when it came, was strained—not in fear, but in something close to rage.

  "And what did the vampires and giants do to deserve complete extermination?"

  Adam asked, finally unable to restrain himself. The moment the words left his mouth, Gideon laughed again.

  Not mockingly. Not angrily. But cheerfully, as if Adam had just asked an innocent question, like a child seeking to understand the rules of the world.

  "Oh, nothing in particular."

  Gideon said, his tone lighthearted, almost fond.

  "Their sin is simply existing. The goddess has decreed that this world is made only for humanity. That is her will. That is the truth."

  He turned his head slightly, as if peering back at them from the corner of his vision.

  "And if she has spoken, then that is the way of the world. It does not matter if they have done no wrong. They are lesser. They are beneath us. And it is our duty—our sacred mission—to rid the world of those who do not belong."

  A silence unlike any that had come before crushed the group beneath its weight. It was not a pause for contemplation, not a lull in conversation—it was the silence of realization, the deafening void left in the wake of undeniable truth. This was not war. This was not conflict. This was not some righteous battle fought for the betterment of the world.

  This was extermination, methodical and absolute. It was the will of the divine, an unshakable decree from a force too powerful to question, too deeply ingrained to resist. And in that moment, as they walked through the pristine streets of Celestia Sanctum, each step a march toward a future none of them could yet fathom, they felt it.

  The cold, creeping horror of understanding. It did not come with a single revelation, nor with the fire of rebellion—it was slow, settling in like a sickness that had taken root in their bones, something that could not be cast away with a mere thought. It slithered through the gaps in their minds, coiling around their logic, their morality, their very sense of self, suffocating them with the inescapable knowledge that this was not a mistake. This was not some radical belief held by a select few within the Holy Order.

  This was the foundation of their world.

  And Gideon, in all his unwavering joy, in all his glowing certainty, could not even conceive that anything he had said was wrong.

  No one spoke. No one could. Every breath they took felt heavier, every glance toward one another an unspoken confirmation of the same thought: there was no reasoning with this. There was no negotiating with a belief so deeply embedded that to question it was to blaspheme.

  Every person in this city, every priest, every warrior, every devoted follower of Arianka, lived by this truth. There would be no guilt, no hesitation when the time came to burn a city to the ground, to tear the life from a child’s body, to cleanse the world in holy fire. It would be done not with rage, not with malice, but with conviction.

  And that was far, far worse...

  The rest of the journey passed in wordless dread. The weight of Gideon’s words was like chains wrapped around their limbs, binding them, forcing them forward with each heavy step. There was no need for further discussion, no need to voice their thoughts… They had heard enough.

  Each of them walked as though they had already entered a battlefield, as though the world around them had become hostile, a landscape more dangerous than any they had encountered before—not because of monstrous beasts, not because of deadly traps or overwhelming enemies, but because this world, this city, had been built upon a truth that none of them could ever accept. And yet, there was nothing they could do, they could only keep moving, following the path that had already been set before them.

  Then, at last, they arrived at the Grand Cathedral of the Goddess Arianka.

  It was not a temple. To call it such would be a disgrace to the sheer monstrosity of its construction, to the way it dominated the landscape, stretching so high into the sky that its peak was lost beyond the veil of clouds. It was a monument to power, to authority, to divinity itself.

  The entire structure was crafted from pristine white marble, its walls reflecting the sunlight with an almost unnatural glow, as if the stone itself was imbued with the very essence of the divine. The towering spires that lined its upper reaches seemed less like architecture and more like the spears of celestial warriors, stabbing toward the heavens, forming a barrier between the mortal world and the throne of the goddess.

  The stained glass windows, massive and breathtaking, were unlike anything they had ever seen. Each one depicted scenes of conquest and glory, saints and warriors, their golden outlines shimmering with a radiance that should not have been possible. The figures within them were not simply images, not simply art—they were stories, each one speaking of triumph, of devotion, of the endless march of humanity under the goddess' command.

  The sun filtering through them cast an ethereal glow upon the cathedral’s massive courtyard, creating an illusion of divine illumination, as though this place existed in a separate realm, untouched by darkness, untouched by anything impure.

  Before them stretched a staircase of marble, impossibly large, wide enough to hold the passage of entire armies, a pathway leading up toward the entrance, where dozens upon dozens of paladins and priests moved with purpose.

  Some carried ancient tomes, their bound pages humming faintly with residual divine energy, as if the very words inscribed within them held power. Others stood in prayer, their heads bowed, their lips moving in hushed whispers, voices merging into a haunting, rhythmic chant that seeped into the air, making it impossible to ignore.

  The divine energy here was overpowering, making Adam’s breath hitch.

  It pressed against him, seeped into his skin, coiled around his lungs like an unseen force determined to repel him. It did not burn, not yet, but the sheer density of it left him dizzy, as though his very existence was being rejected by the space around him.

  He could feel his heartbeat accelerate, his muscles tightening involuntarily, his senses screaming at him to turn away—to leave before this place could strip him apart. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, the only thing keeping him grounded as he forced himself to breathe, to keep his steps measured, to resist the overwhelming urge to falter.

  Gideon inhaled deeply, his expression one of pure rapture, as if the very air here carried a holiness that could not be replicated anywhere else. He turned back to them, his eyes shining with an almost childlike joy, his arms spreading wide as though welcoming them into the heart of paradise itself.

  "Beautiful, is it not?"

  He said, his voice reverent, almost tender in its sincerity.

  "The very heart of Celestia Sanctum. The seat of Arianka’s divine presence in this world."

  No one moved at first, their bodies locked in place as if their very instincts rebelled against the idea of stepping forward. The Grand Cathedral of Arianka loomed before them, vast and absolute, an undeniable force of presence that made the air itself feel heavier.

  Then Gideon, utterly oblivious to the silent war waging in their minds, turned back to them, his heavy armor shifting with the motion, the radiant joy on his face behin his helmet undiminished. He exuded the same unwavering confidence, the same unshakable certainty that had followed him through every word he had spoken since they met.

  With a broad, welcoming gesture, he beckoned to them, his voice booming with warmth, with purpose, as if nothing could be more natural than for them to step forward.

  "Come!"

  He declared, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the marble courtyard.

  "You have journeyed far, but now you stand at the very doorstep of the goddess' holy domain. Do not hesitate! Walk with me into the light, and witness the true majesty of Arianka’s grace with your own eyes!"

  His words were meant to be inspiring, an invitation spoken with such honest belief that any who heard it might have felt compelled to follow without question. To Gideon, there was no reason for them to hesitate. There was no possible doubt in his mind that this was the moment they had longed for, the culmination of their sacred journey to Celestia Sanctum.

  He expected them to be in awe, to feel their hearts swell with reverence, to step forward with the eagerness of those who had finally found their place among the chosen.

  But none of them moved immediately. The silence stretched, not because they wished to savor the moment, but because every single one of them understood that beyond those doors, their situation would only worsen. This place was not a sanctuary—it was a cage, one built from centuries of devotion, one that did not hold prisoners by force but by faith, by belief so deeply ingrained that its very foundations made escape impossible.

  And yet, they had no choice.