【Aurorien, Capital of the Solan Empire】
【Central Cathedral of the Holy Light Church】
This was the pinnacle of light on the continent and a holy land in the hearts of countless believers.
Grand white spires pierced the clouds, as if reaching out to speak with the gods themselves.
Thousands of eternal lamps illuminated the entire cathedral as brightly as day, while the air was thick with the solemn, rhythmic chanting of hymns.
However, in the deepest part of the cathedral, within the pope's private study, the atmosphere was stiflingly oppressive.
The study had no windows. The walls were lined with portraits of past popes, their painted eyes seeming to scrutinize the current holder of power.
An old man in a simple white robe, clutching a golden scepter—Pope Sostre—stood with his back to the door, staring at the flickering flames in the fireplace.
Kneeling behind him was a middle-aged man dressed in a blood-red robe.
The man kept his head low, his breathing careful and shallow.
He was Florre, the director of the Heresy Inquisition, a man known throughout the continent as a 'mad dog' who inspired terror in all who heard his name.
"Your Holiness."
Florre's voice was raspy and respectful.
"The report regarding the Second Prince of the Sylvania Kingdom... 'Subject No. 2,' has arrived."
"Speak," Sostre said without turning around.
"We applied every 'stimulation method' developed in recent years to him." Florre paused, his tone tinged with disappointment. "But unfortunately... there was no abnormal reaction."
"I see."
Sostre uttered those three words flatly, his emotions unreadable.
"Then, Your Holiness, should we..." Florre made a throat-slitting gesture.
"No, keep him for now."
Sostre turned around. The firelight played across his deeply wrinkled face, making his expression seem volatile.
"This means all possibilities now point to that little mouse who escaped."
"Lucrezia Sylvania."
At the mention of that name, a flicker of wariness, fanaticism, and a hint of greed flashed in Sostre's eyes.
"Increase our manpower. Release all the 'hounds' of the Inquisition."
"But Your Holiness..." Florre hesitated.
"No buts!"
Sostre slammed his scepter onto the floor with a sharp crack.
"Remember, I want her alive!"
"Yes! I understand!"
Drenched in cold sweat, Florre bowed deeply before retreating from the room like a ghost.
The study door clicked shut.
Sostre sat back down in the chair that symbolized the highest authority on the continent.
He rubbed his brow tiredly, his thoughts drifting back five years.
To that night that had changed him, and the fate of the entire continent.
Five years ago, the statue of the Eternal Lord had suddenly radiated golden light without any warning.
That was the first and only time he had witnessed a so-called 'miracle.'
He had once believed that gods didn't exist in this world—that the 'Eternal Lord' was merely a lie fabricated by their ancestors.
Until that night.
That soul-level trembling, that feeling of helplessness like an ant looking up at the stars, had shattered his worldview.
Gods are real.
...
Time flew by, and it was already three days after the incident in Kent Town.
On the border of the Valerian Duchy, three horses trotted leisurely along a winding forest path.
"Just ahead is the heart of the Valerian Duchy."
Vespa rode in front, holding a parchment map she had acquired from somewhere. She pointed forward and said:
"Once we cross this region and pass through a few small buffer duchies, we'll reach the main city of the Virado Federation—Crede. There are magic airships there that go all over the continent."
"However..." Vespa's cat ears twitched as she glanced back at Leon, seemingly testing him. "The further west we go, the closer we get to the Solan Empire, which also means we're getting closer to the Church's sphere of influence. Although Crede is a neutral city, there's still a risk."
Leon nodded but didn't take the bait.
They owed a lot to this 'local' for leading the way.
If the two of them had tried to navigate blindly, they'd probably be back in the Thousand-Tentacle Swamp feeding the mosquitoes by now.
Last night, when they stopped at a small town to rest, Vespa had disappeared for a short while under the pretext of going out for some fun.
Leon didn't know what she had been up to, but he didn't press her. Everyone had their secrets.
What puzzled Leon most was that since the 'great battle' that night, Vespa's attitude toward him had done a complete 180-degree turn.
If not for those cat ears, Leon would have thought he was being followed by a head eunuch.
Her constant flattery—'Are you thirsty, My Lord?', 'Are you tired, My Lord?', 'That fireball was truly earth-shaking, My Lord'—made Leon wonder if his irresistible personality had finally conquered a resident of this other world.
Of course, he remained cautious.
Leon touched his lower abdomen.
After a few days of rest and absorbing the 'massive experience pack' that was Leon Hawthorne, his mana source had recovered to 11.68%.
This meant he was back at the peak of the heroic stage, and he could even faintly feel the threshold of the crowned stage.
But he hadn't told Lucrezia about this, and he certainly hadn't told Vespa.
After all, as he'd thought before, everyone has their secrets, right?
As evening approached, the sunset glowed like fire.
The three of them found a clearing by a stream to set up camp.
"My Lord, your dinner. Roasted rabbit leg, seasoned with cumin."
Vespa eagerly handed him a golden, glistening rabbit leg, then consciously stepped aside to begin her daily 'audit' session.
Lucrezia was sitting cross-legged on a large rock, holding a flickering flame in her hand, her small face full of seriousness.
"Well, since you've asked so sincerely."
Leon took a bite of the rabbit leg and struck the pose of a master lecturer while speaking with his mouth full.
But there was a problem.
All of Leon's magical knowledge had been 'dumped' into his head during his transmigration.
To him, casting spells was more like a muscle memory, as natural as eating or drinking, rather than systematic theoretical knowledge.
Consequently, the teaching session went like this:
"First, you do this... gather mana at your fingertips and make it spin. Right, 720 degrees clockwise."
"Then there's this feeling... like a 'vroom' sound, you know? You have to feel the rhythm of the elements."
"Finally, you just go like that, think of the target in your head, and—biu!—it goes out!"
Leon gestured wildly, small sparks and ice flowers popping from his fingertips as he demonstrated enthusiastically.
However, his two students just stared at him with looks of total confusion.
"What do you mean 'do this' and 'go like that'?!"
Vespa, who was listening in, finally couldn't take it anymore and threw down the twig she was holding.
"And what the hell is 'biu'? Where are the incantations? The hand seals? The construction diagrams for the mana circuits?!"
What kind of teaching was this?!
If a mentor at the academy taught like this, they would have been strung up and beaten ages ago!
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