Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 769 - 427_2

A vision of his father flickered in his thoughts.

Duke Calvin had not held high hopes when he was dispatched to the Holy City, merely desiring a path independent of any Empire's influence.

At that juncture, he was simply assessed as having potential; thus, occupying the white God Seat was not his father's initial ambition.

It was only later, as his standing escalated, that the prospect gradually materialized, leading his father to pen a letter, urging him to pursue it relentlessly.

......

Within the Holy Curtain Hall, three contenders stood aligned.

Far above, the dome stretched, its platinum arches ascending in tiers, seemingly without limit.

The Holy Hall required no embellishment to project its grandeur; the sheer immensity of the space was sufficient to compel one to instinctively cease breathing.

Grand cardinals remained in the gloom of the upper galleries, their visages concealed by hoods and ambient light, leaving only a disconcerting sense of mental appraisal.

Eduardo occupied the central position, his demeanor composed.

He could perceive the woman to his left, identified as the Forest Holy Maiden, maintaining an almost instinctive resonance with the Holy Hall's life network.

Her respiration, pulse, and even the subtle spiritual current upon her skin unconsciously harmonized with the Golden Feather Flower array.

On some intrinsic level, the system had already begun to acknowledge her.

Conversely, the presence of the adjudicator, arrayed in a platinum robe, was entirely dissimilar.

His Fighting Energy pulsed at an exceptionally high frequency, causing the atmosphere to subtly vibrate despite his deliberate restraint.

It was a power refined through countless trials, existing solely for the purpose of execution and judgment.

The adjudicator's gaze briefly swept across Eduardo.

No animosity was present in that look, yet it conveyed a distinct evaluation; were this a trial, he felt certain he would emerge victorious.

The Forest Holy Maiden also became aware of the other two presences.

Without turning her head, she merely tightened her fingertips. A minute shift occurred within the vine motifs of the floral bas-relief adorning one wall of the Holy Hall.

Despite the absence of spoken words among the trio, an unseen competition had already commenced.

The contest was not about raw strength but about inherent suitability.

Eduardo registered the shifting focus of the scrutiny from above, an ongoing assessment comparing the three individuals.

These were the most exceptional individuals Avalonia could present in this era.

They were also the finest candidates this system had meticulously chosen for itself throughout its long history.

Each was a prodigy, and it was precisely for this reason they now stood here as candidates.

At this juncture, a grand cardinal advanced slowly toward the four individuals.

His skin possessed a pallor so extreme it appeared almost translucent, as though long deprived of sunlight, with veins faintly discernible beneath, akin to silken threads steeped in water.

With every stride he took, the integrated Golden Feather Flower reliefs embedded in the floor vibrated gently.

The resonance propagated along the stony veins, suffusing the entirety of the Holy Curtain Hall's floor, causing one's very bones to hum.

The grand cardinal halted before the three aspirants.

He unfurled his desiccated digits, extracting a Holy Order, fashioned from gold leaf, from within his sleeve: "According to the inaugural volume of the Avalonnia Codex, the will of the anointed may not be directly perceived, the transmission of the divine cannot be profaned."

His cadence was measured and devoid of inflection, as if reciting a passage mastered through millennia of repetition.

"Within the ensuing twenty cycles of day and night, you shall enter into a state of eternal communion with the current Holy Seat."

As these words concluded, a faint, almost imperceptible resonance emanated from the depths of the Holy Curtain Hall's dome.

It was not an echo, but rather a deliberate, slow affirmation.

The grand cardinal tilted his chin upward slightly, his gaze appraising the four figures.

"These twenty days are not a period of passive waiting. Your consciousness will engage in high-frequency collision with the crown.

Those who persevere are divine; those who falter are naught but dust."

The Holy Order was closed, and the solemn rite commenced.

Twelve cardinals emerged from either side of the Holy Hall, forming two parallel lines, gradually retreating while their eyes remained fixed upon the throne.

The distance, velocity, and trajectory of each movement were unnervingly exact.

Their countenances bore an identical cast.

Not of elation nor of devotion, but a placidity honed over vast expanses of time.

As if confirming that a specific process had finally entered its predetermined stage.

Upon the departure of the final cardinal from the Holy Hall, the immense stone portals began their slow descent.

The revolving hinges of the colossal doors emitted a deep, protracted groaning sound.

The massive edifice of white stone, weighing countless tons, sealed itself incrementally, its surface densely inscribed with runes that gradually ignited, coalescing into flowing chains of luminescence that entirely occluded the final vestiges of natural light.

Only four remained imprisoned within.

The current Pope was seated upon a throne of purest white.

Countless golden threads held his form aloft, suspending him as if he were a masterfully controlled marionette.

These threads vanished into the dome's shadowy immensity, their origins completely unseen.

When he vocalized, the sound originated not from a single source, but from a chorus of overlapping whispers, as if thousands breathed a simultaneous sigh directly into one's ear: "Come... who is willing to partake in this... boundless affection?"

Suddenly, Eduardo's right palm erupted with a sharp, piercing ache.

It felt as though a safeguard, deliberately embedded within his very soul, had been violently activated at that precise moment.

The Divine Grace within him shrieked a warning.

Flee.

Flee at once.

Under this intense provocation, the capability for memory reading spiraled out of his control.

It wasn't that Eduardo consciously chose to perceive, but rather that his surroundings presented themselves to him willingly.

In that fleeting instant, his sight was forcefully ripped open, the superficial appearance of the Holy Hall dissolving like a brittle husk, rendering it see-through.

The colossal white stone pillars that ascended towards the dome no longer served the simple purpose of bearing weight.