Chapter 626: Set Out
Chapter 626: Set Out
Sun Church, East Borough, Holy City.
It was around 8 A.M.
A young man with pale, mixed skin tones walked into the Sun Church.
As soon as Charles stepped in, he felt a sense of warmth washing over him.
’This place truly has some kind of power that makes one feel relaxed and secure.’ He muttered.
He passed through the warm, welcoming entrance hall and continued into the main hallway that connected the outer entrance to the church’s inner sanctum. As he walked along the nave, he noticed a small group of people gathered around a middle-aged man giving a speech.
The speaker stood out immediately. Dressed in red, he towered at nearly 190 centimeters, exuding an air of authority. His long blond hair framed a face marked by a round nose and neatly trimmed brows. His olive-toned skin radiated vitality, but it was his eyes that truly drew attention—they glowed with a golden brilliance, like miniature suns.
’He is the Cardinal I heard about, huh?’ Even without analyzing him, Charles could feel he was strong.
’Although not as strong as I, he could fight one-on-one against most of the Destiny Conquerors easily.’
As soon as the man noticed the young man’s arrival, he stopped speaking and smiled.
"Greetings, Mr. Zephyr." He paused for a moment, then continued telepathically,
Or should I say... Charles Nightwind?
As I thought, this guy isn’t simple at all, Charles thought, sharpening his gaze. He saw through my shapeshifting spell with just a glance? Pretty good.
He nodded calmly. "Just call me ’Zephyr,’ Mr. Damian."
"Haha, then Zephyr it is," Damian replied with a booming laugh, stepping down from the pulpit.
He walked through the group of young priests and reached Charles within seconds.
"I’m honored to meet you," Damian said, cupping his hands and bowing slightly.
He’s doing this on purpose, Charles noted, but let it slide. He moved the conversation forward.
"Who’s entering the Star Tombs?" he asked, glancing at the priests. "Them?"
"No," Damian replied, pointing toward another group. "They’re just here to send me off. The ones joining us are over there."
Charles followed his finger and saw eight individuals lounging on the middle pews. Two of them immediately caught his attention. They looked like gentlemen pulled straight from the Victorian era.
Their attire was striking—well-tailored burgundy suits adorned with golden embroidery along the collars and cuffs. The fabric shimmered with a soft sheen, a mix of velvet and silk. One of them even wore a monocle over his right eye, adding a refined air.
"The one with the monocle is Tucker. The other is Jett. Both are Fire Mages—unorthodox ones. They don’t wear traditional mage robes," Damian introduced them. Then he turned to the others. "This is Zephyr, the newly appointed First Order Holy Knight."
"Oh?" Tucker arched an eyebrow, his reddish-brown eyes scanning Charles with sharp curiosity. "He won’t hold us back, will he?"
’Fire Mages, huh? Hmm, their spells are mostly lawful fire and Chaos fire. Only Tucker has a spell related to Hell Fire, but even that is not in stable condition.’ Alas, they were still Legend Rank powerhouses and would be helpful in many ways.
At that moment, Jett also nodded and muttered, "Even I’m unsure if I could handle a Legendary beast. Let’s hope he pulls his weight." He adjusted his newsboy cap, covering his messy brown hair.
Then another voice came from Jett’s side.
"This brat’s not simple, Jett. He’s hiding his strength," said a man in golden robes.
Two others beside him, also in golden attire, radiated a majestic, commanding presence.
They must be Archbishops, Charles guessed.
The Archbishops wore radiant golden robes, intricately patterned with sacred symbols. Their presence alone was overwhelming—pure, holy power emanating from their very beings.
’But their strength is very low... Rank-4?’ Raven knew that the ranking of False Gem Class was a bit strange, but still felt doubtful.
For example, the Priests were usually Rank-2 in strength but always had battle power equal to that of Rank-3 Mystics.
The same goes for Bishops.
"They might only be at Rank-4 Mystic strength," Damian explained, "but with the blessing of the Eternal Light, they can fight on par with multiple Pseudo-Legendary beings—or even match a true Legend. Don’t underestimate them."
’A true Legend?’ If it was before, Charles would’ve scoffed at his remark. But after he came to the Sacred Empire, he learned a lot about Divine spells and realized that the borrowed power from their Gods was not to be underestimated.
’But everything has its own limits. Although their divine spells are powerful enough to even kill a True Legend, their physical strength is very limited. If they can’t kill a Legend Rank warrior in one attack, they will be the first to die.’ Their spells may work for assassination or during large-scale wars. But in a one-on-one fight, they would lose in seconds.
Charles then turned his gaze towards the next group.
Further down sat a few others in black robes—hooded figures shrouded in mystery. Though less ornate, their robes were elegant, edged with silver runes.
"They’re Head Deacons," Damian continued. "All of them are Legends with battlefield experience. One more Cardinal was supposed to join us, but... a situation arose."
"A situation?" Charles raised an eyebrow.
"A variable," Damian said grimly. "Someone’s attacking Sun Churches across the Azure Federation. Over a dozen Bishops are dead. Cardinal Blake took it upon himself to stop this threat."
"Someone dares attack Sun Churches?" Charles asked, surprised.
"When our Pope performed divination, he received a revelation. The attacker is an outsider—possibly a Demon or its lackey in disguise."
Outsider? Could it be that monster? But Charles quickly dismissed the idea. No, Udnir wouldn’t waste time on small fries. If he wanted to shake the Sun God’s foundations, he’d strike at the Holy See itself...
With a sigh, he refocused. I should stick to my goal.
"I understand," Charles said with a nod.
Damian clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention.
"It’s time. The Star Tombs’ gate will open soon. Let’s move."
"Finally," Tucker said, adjusting his monocle as he stood.
Jett, the three Archbishops, and the three Deacons followed, rising one by one and filing into the aisle.
As the grand doors of the Sun Church opened, ten figures stepped out into the bright morning light of East Borough. Without delay, they approached the two waiting carriages parked just outside the gates.
These weren’t ordinary carriages. Sleek and regal, their frames were carved with intricate patterns and trimmed with gold. The horses harnessed to them looked like magical beasts—tall, muscular, their coats shimmering faintly with mana. War-bred.
Each member took their seat. Inside, the carriages were luxuriously appointed. Velvet cushions lined the benches, and the air carried a calming scent. It was a brief reprieve before whatever trials lay ahead.
The wheels rolled forward. Hooves clattered against the cobblestones, a steady rhythm that echoed down the streets. Through the windows, the Holy City passed by—vibrant markets, towering spires, and the radiant energy of divine blessings in the air. Curious citizens paused to gawk, their eyes widening at the figures inside.
The convoy moved purposefully southward. Soon, they reached the city’s edge, just before the Southern Gate.
One by one, they stepped down from the carriages.
Charles also walked out of the carriage and quietly followed the group outside the southern gate.
What greeted Charles next made him stop in his tracks.
Rows upon rows of Holy Knights stood ahead—well-armored, disciplined, and ready.
They actually occupied over half a square kilometer!
Hundreds of thousands... just to defend against the magical beast wave? Charles furrowed.
’Wait... In those books, there was never a mention of how big the Beast Wave would be. But they prepared this many soldiers, which means the best wave should be much larger.’
He turned his gaze to the other gathered forces.
Like them, eleven other groups stood by the gate. Seven bore the insignias of major churches—Order Church, Amber Church, Life Church, and others. The remaining five belonged to powerful families. The church members wore ornate, enchanted robes. The family representatives wore refined formal attire—no visible weapons, but their presence was sharp.
"Their suits aren’t just for show," Damian said, stepping beside Charles. "They’re enchanted with powerful magic. Don’t let appearances fool you."
"I see. And who are they?" Charles asked, feigning curiosity.
"They’re the five great families that rule most of the world," Damian replied solemnly. "Hawthorne, Pentagon, True Lords, Fairchild, and Holmes."
At the mention of those names, a smirk tugged at Charles’s lips.
’True Lords, huh?’ True Lords were the ones responsible for the death of his mother. So, he would never forgive them.
At that moment, Damian’s expression darkened as he focused on one particular group.
"If we get the chance," he said coldly, "we must eliminate the True Lords."
"Oh? Do you have a grudge?" Charles asked with a half-smile. "Forget the grudges. Focus on surviving the upcoming disaster."
As he looked up at the southern sky, one of Charles’s eyes shimmered like crystal, briefly revealing countless flickers of potential futures.
