The Guangming Hill Cathedral, located on the right side of the Square of Order, is the second largest building in the capital after the Oak Palace. This main church of the god of order, which was built in the first year of the new calendar of Elolin, has lasted more than a thousand years of ups and downs, and has long become a holy place in the hearts of the believers of the order sect on this continent.

It is a masterpiece of Eloline's architectural art, and even the dwarven craftsmen who are skilled in this way will marvel at its magnificence and grandeur when they see it. Especially when the morning sun illuminates it, and the setting sun burns its towering spire, it is as if a mountain peaks in the clouds stand there, bathed in golden light. That's why believers have given it this name.

When Sirian reached the entrance of the church along the elevated stone steps beside the square, it was already the evening of the second day after the Imperial Council. Although he wanted to sleep for a day and a night, Sirian would never have imagined that he would really wake up the next afternoon. Remembering the Pope's suggestion, he immediately ate a simple bite and rode over.

The main hall was quiet, with several large circular chandeliers hanging from the dome with iron cables, and tall stone pillars carved with angels standing against the walls, the top of which was connected to the dome, and the delicate patterns and images depicting the Most High Heaven spread upwards until they covered the entire roof.

In the center of the deepest part of the main hall, under the colorful glazed windows, the statue of Somu, the god of order, stands, the spear in his hand points to nothingness, and the cloak condensed in the air is shaped by the lines carved in the stone to create a thick beauty. Beneath his feet, neat layers of candles burned in transparent glasses, shimmering with an incomparably soft light.

Sirian remembered the days when he practiced here decades ago, when it was simple and simple, with no invisible intrigues and no countless powers. All you need to do is listen to your inner voice and hold fast to what you believe in.

His steps were light, for fear of disturbing the worshippers who were praying on the pews. He walked up to the statue, knelt on a red cushion made of flannel, and looked up at the Lord God who had given him courage and strength, and he meditated in the hope of forgiveness and blessing.

A priest in brown robes approached Sirian, who saw the arrival of the Imperial Prime Minister. After Cyrian got up, he led Sillion through the small door to the right of the main hall.

Along the semi-open cloister, Sirian passed through the small papal garden, and it wasn't long before they came to an old wooden door. The priest bowed and turned to leave, and Sirian straightened his clothes a little, knocked lightly twice, and pushed the wooden door open.

It was a small room, with a warm yellow fire flickering from a few candlesticks randomly placed in the corner, and two tall bookshelves stood on either side of the room, filled with various ancient books and yellowed scrolls. An old man in a white robe was hunched behind his desk flipping through something, the candlelight reflecting on his face, casting wrinkles in different shades.

The old man saw Sirian, and he got up with a smile, his gray beard swaying across his chest. "How's the rest going? ”

"Thank you, Your Excellency. Sirian pressed his right hand to his chest and bowed.

"Come, come, don't care about this messy room. The old man let Sirian into the chair next to the small tea table, and then sat down opposite him, "This is the ancient books and scriptures room of the Holy See, and some obscure but undiscarded old things are kept here, by the way, including me, haha." The old man laughed as he spoke.

Cyrian smiled, as if he had returned to the days when he was a young man with the Pope. "Mentor, is it possible that my problems are mentioned in these ancient books?......

The old man did not answer the question directly, but raised his right hand, and a ball of bright silver light poured into Sirian's chest with a flowing trail. Soon, Sirian felt himself enveloped in a layer of warm, fiery power, and then his body lightened, and the ball of light returned to Kasroni's hand.

Suspended in the ball of light in the old man's hand, a pool of Yin Hong's blood was boiling and tumbling, as if it had life, and kept drawing a totem similar to the shape of an eye. Gradually, the red color vanished, revealing a flowing gray energy.

The silver ball of light grew brighter and brighter, like a burning flame, purifying the gray energy. Finally, there was a "pop", and the ball of light exploded in the old man's hand, turning into a room full of starlight.

Looking at the old man's slightly tired face, Sirian said anxiously: "Mentor, you ......"

The old man waved his hand. "It doesn't matter, it's really old, and it'll be fine when you rest......"

Sirian obviously didn't believe the old man's explanation, because the chaplain was completely helpless about this blood seal, and I am afraid that the Pope also spent a lot of energy, so he just didn't want to worry too much. "Mentor, this is ...... The forces of chaos?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, Eye of Chaos, life ban ......," the old man pondered and continued, "The sages of the Holy See have recorded this terrible spell in ancient books, and the caster needs to pay for his own life in exchange for a temporary seal of the opponent's power. ”

"You mean for the time being?"

"That's right, for now. Even if I don't use the Holy Flame to help you dispel this magic, it will automatically weaken after a few days until it dissipates. ”

Hearing this answer, Sirian sat there in some surprise. "Did Soram know that I would be blocked on my way home, or even that he knew of Donis's plan?" he thought to himself, but quickly dismissed the astonishing idea. In any case, Donis could not have gone crazy enough to join forces with the rebels to usurp the throne, and doing so would only lead to the rebellion of his family.

"Donis will not," the old man paused, "we must never underestimate the power of the gods, whether they are in the Most High Heaven or in Burning Hell. ”

"As you say, the god of chaos that the Sardinia rebels believe in is indeed a real god and not a false god of fabrication?" Sirian asked, his biggest doubt.

"I'm afraid it is. The old man nodded in agreement with Sirian's point of view, "Believe me, Sirian, the power of the gods has never disappeared, they just quietly watch us......"

"You mean ?......"

"In the Middle Ages, what we often call the Second Age, the miracles of the gods were often seen on the continent of Eloline. Until the end of the Middle Ages, the first year of the birth of the new calendar, whether in heaven or hell, the gods have disappeared from their figures. The old man's brow furrowed, as if he were stating something that had been bothering him for a long time, "They didn't disappear, but they hid behind the fog." ”

The old man looked around at the ancient books and scrolls beside him. "No one knows why, no race on the continent of Elolin knows this history. Or rather, it was erased, forcibly erased......" he stroked the neat spine of the bookshelf, "The sages of the Holy See of Order wrote vaguely in the hope that future generations would know the history, and the truth that disappeared can only be slowly found between the lines of their words. Maybe one day, we'll find that answer, maybe, we'll never know......"

"Doesn't the god of order have any revelations?"

"Oh, Sirian, do you think that the Lord God and I will sit together like old friends? Lord God is above, I wish there would be a day, but I'm afraid it will be after my old bones are dead......" The old man smiled happily, his white eyebrows twitching happily, "The Lord God is the source of our strength, and only at very important moments will He give me a revelation. ”

Sirian scratched his head in embarrassment, it had been a long time since a student-like performance like this had been seen on him. Speaking of revelation, he had only one and only one experience. It was at the end of his two-year training in the Holy See of Order, and the moment he knelt in front of the statue and was ordained a Knight of Order, he seemed to feel the tip of the spear of the Lord God Somuel lightly press on his shoulder, and then the surging power of Order filled his chest. Even though more than 20 years have passed, that moment of experience is enough to make Sirian unforgettable.

"Mentor, what is your opinion on the Chaos Sect that prevails in the province of Sardinia?"

"Whether it is good or evil, time will always tell the answer. ”

"Yes, Mentor. ”

The old man seemed to remember something. "Look at my memory," he said, taking an envelope from his pocket and handing it to Cillian. "A letter that Maheth entrusted me to you before he died. As he spoke, he drew a triangle gesture on his chest, "May his soul rest in peace......

Sirian was stunned for a moment, but quickly took it, he didn't expect His Majesty the Former King to bring him a letter through the Pope. "Thank you for all you do, Mentor. ”

"You guys, Aiden came this morning exactly as you said...... "The old man cut the heart of the candle to make it brighter, "I owe a great favor to Mahos at the time of the Battle of Mount Doron, and I cannot refuse his dying request. The Lord God is above, and I am willing to shoulder the responsibility for my sins. ”

Cilian didn't say anything more, he knew what the Pope's actions during the Council meant to him and to the Holy See, and that no one could break the laws of the God of Order.

Unfold the letterhead, and there were a few lines of familiar handwriting:

"Cillian, forgive me for transmitting this letter to you by the hand of His Holiness the Pope.

For I know very well that if you had seen this letter when you had returned to Oak City, you would probably have had good reasons to resign from the appointment of Prime Minister after Montoue's plot had gone bankrupt.

Yes, because of your impartiality, selflessness, will make you recommend, after careful consideration, a more suitable candidate for this position.

But, Sirian, these virtues in you are the noble qualities of a prefect, aren't they?

For the sake of the future of this kingdom, and Aiden, who has always trusted you, please do not refuse my last request.

May the glory of the God of Order always protect you, my child. ”

"His Majesty the First King actually ......" Sirian didn't finish, just sighed, and silently put the envelope close to him. Indeed, he could not refuse Maheth's request, and even more, he would not allow himself to leave Aiden alone in the capital to fight alone.

"I know everything?...... the old man smiled, his eyes were a little sad, as if he was remembering an old friend who was very good, "some people, the ruthless years will only make his eyes sharper......" The old man looked at his disciple and continued, "Sirian, you should go back to Junhe, this is not the place where you should stop. ”

Sirian was stunned for a moment, his expression becoming a little hesitant. "Mentor, is this your guide to my destiny?"

"No, my child, no one can stop fate," the old man shook his head, his eyes seemed to have an incomprehensible depth, "it is the kingdom of Iseril, the god of fate, and I just hope that when it comes, it will not seem so cold." ”

......

It was late at night, the candles in the room of ancient books and scrolls were still on, and the old man was still alone at his desk, looking through the big book that had not yet been read.

In the flickering candlelight, the words written in the ancient language of Elolin shimmered with a black sheen. In the bottom corner of the page, a line written by someone unknown caught the old man's eye, and there was a mention of a name that never appeared - "The Chosen One".