Vorlite Principality, City of Sacred Hymns, Altor, the Golden Cathedral.
As dusk settled, Cardinals Gosse and the others, led by Cardinal Filibert, performed the Sabbath evening prayers, then watched him depart in silence. He returned to his quarters without delivering a sermon or guiding the other clergy as he normally would.
"What's gotten into Lord Filibert?" another Cardinal asked, puzzled.
Gosse shook his head. "I'm not sure myself. It seems to have started about a month ago — Lord Filibert has been acting rather strange."
"A month ago? Could that be when the Voice of Mysteries began slandering His Holiness the Pope, claiming he's the disaster mage Viken?" The Cardinal who asked looked uneasy.
The lower and mid-ranking clergy had long grown numb to the rumors broadcast on repeat, not attaching much importance to them. Compared to previous content, there was nothing particularly striking — no concrete evidence, nothing more sensational than before. But for senior clergy like themselves, intimately familiar with the Church's history and every last detail, hearing it was heart-stopping. Many aspects could be cross-referenced with historical records, as though hidden within were fragments of the truth.
Of course, history offered countless possibilities, and there were plenty of stories that could be crafted to fit. The senior clergy harbored only a faint suspicion, which quickly dissipated — but whenever it was brought up again, their hearts still clenched.
Gosse suddenly raised his head, his expression grave. "I just remembered — Lord Filibert's strange behavior started after he attended the emergency conclave His Holiness convened…"
"There shouldn't be any connection…" The Cardinal who spoke had turned an unusually dark shade, as though all manner of terrible thoughts had come flooding into his mind.
Gosse forced a smile. "That's what I think as well. Any devout believer would feel unsettled hearing the Arcane Council's wanton slander."
---
Inside the quarters.
The "Bright Angel" Filibert sat blankly behind his desk, gazing vacantly at the flickering candlelight. Against the fading light outside, the flames seemed to dance across his bearded cheeks in streaks of gold.
*Crack* — the candle flared, shooting upward, and Filibert's face was washed in a ghastly white glow.
"Lord Filibert, have you made up your mind? This can help restore your wavering faith and draw you closer to the God of Truth. We don't need you to do much — just provide us with key intelligence at crucial moments." The flame kept jumping and sputtering, its raspy voice interspersed with pops and crackles.
Filibert stared darkly at the flame before him. "There's no way you could ever enter the Heavenly Mountain. You dare declare Thanos to be the supreme Lord based solely on his Magic Notes? I don't believe it, and I will not follow the Northern heretics in severing the power of faith — abandoning the grace of the Lord."
The flame burst into a string of laughter. "You've already begun instinctively addressing Lord Thanos as the Sun King rather than calling him by name. What you truly think — you can't hide it from me. But regardless of who Lord Thanos once was, after merging with the Heavenly Mountain, He is a true deity — a being beyond demigods, your so-called supreme Lord. He merely slumbers for a time. The more believers who grow in strength, the easier His revival will be. Filibert — would you really stand alongside the fallen Benedict III and abandon the God of Truth?"
"Hmph. Atlant, no matter how well you think you can read hearts, you won't seduce me. Leave now, or I'll activate the Golden Cathedral's Divine Arts circle." After a full minute of silence, Filibert spoke with unwavering firmness.
The flame flickered and said, "Filibert, I can feel your wavering. If you're willing, we will welcome your defection at any time. Just watch — Richard and the other clergy of the Holm State Church will see their strength surge dramatically in the near future, because what we've gained from the World of the Gate surpasses your imagination. We've gone further than the Northern Church's saints — they haven't even come close to the Heavenly Mountain."
With that, the flame contracted in an instant, and everything returned to normal.
Filibert, still wearing a grim expression, activated the Golden Cathedral's defensive Divine Arts circle, then cast a Sanctuary. Only then did the gloom fade from his face, replaced by a faint smile. His eyes held two orbs of pure, clear light that flickered with an unfathomable, unreachable quality. *"The Church must prosper for us to benefit. Since His Holiness has shown his sincerity, we would be fools to undermine our own foundation. Atlant — you underestimate His Holiness far too much."*
---
At an estate outside the city of Altor.
The "Eye of Curses" closed his gaze, no longer watching the silver candlestick before him. At that moment, the flame suddenly flickered and stretched upward, forming the silhouette of a human figure.
"Who?" Atlant opened his eyes, regarding the flame with guarded wariness.
The flame shifted and contorted, taking the shape of a twisted little figure. An aged voice issued from within: "Whose projection I am is not important. What matters is the intelligence I bring."
"What intelligence?" The "Eye of Curses" Atlant probed, trying to divine the identity and purpose of this mysterious emissary.
The flame danced as it spoke: "Intelligence on how to become a demigod — including the complete Legendary-tier advancement steps, the complete method for condensing the power of emotions, the complete body-transformation procedure, the full Magic Circle layout, and the complete forging process for unique Divine Artifacts…"
"You're Benedict III — no, Viken…" Atlant's voice was thick with wariness, inwardly relieved that only a puppet clone of his stood here.