### Chapter 3: Church of Light (7)
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“Ahhhh! It’s the God of Light!”
“The God of Light has descended?”
“Oh great and merciful God of Light, please forgive our previous acts of tyranny and sin!”
“Yes, yes, we were forced! It wasn’t out of our own hearts!”
As soon as they heard the familiar choir singing and saw the feathers representing the God of Light manifesting, the cultist guards of the Church of Light immediately dropped to their knees, desperately begging for the God of Light to forgive their recent misdeeds.
They knew the threat of punishment was brutally harsh, and perhaps that was why the God of Light was furious enough to show up, allowing them to witness this rare miracle.
What was even more shocking was that under the golden light, the gaping wound on Morris’s back was visibly healing at an alarming rate, eventually returning to its original state.
Everyone was left dumbfounded.
Monroe looked like he had seen a ghost and stumbled back several steps, nearly landing on his backside.
“What… what in the world is going on?”
The royal guard, having long served the Emperor, was also a devout follower of the Church of Light, appointed as a cleric by the archbishop.
In stark contrast to Monroe’s look of terror, the guard’s eyes were filled with fervor and excitement, as if he had just witnessed the most thrilling event of his life.
Like the guards, he dropped to his knees with a “thud,” crossing his hands on his shoulders, mumbling prayers.
As more and more people joined in worship, the golden, translucent feathers began to swirl above Morris’s head like they were caught in a whirlpool, eventually merging into his body and disappearing completely.
At that moment, Morris slowly stood up.
Even though the choir and golden feathers had vanished, the golden light enveloping him grew ever brighter.
His voice echoed throughout the vast hall.
“Oh, God of Light above, I obey my lord’s command to walk this earth in my flawed form, saving more souls burdened with sin.”
The guards, who had once heard tales of the Goddess of Destiny and the Messenger of the God of Harmony, suddenly perked up and shouted,
“He must be the Messenger of the God of Light!”
“Bow to the Lord Messenger!”
“Bow to the Lord Messenger!”
The guards immediately began banging their heads on the ground, each “thud” echoing like a drum. The two who had wielded the punishment rods looked especially devoted, bleeding from their foreheads, entirely oblivious, as if that was the only way to lessen the guilt of dishonoring the Lord Messenger.
The royal guard was practically bursting with excitement.
“Oh, God of Light! The arrival of the Lord Messenger is monumental news for the entire Imperial Capital! I’ll go report this to His Majesty at once—he will surely be overjoyed!”
Monroe shook with fright as he curled up in a corner, suddenly thinking of something. He rushed forward, grabbing the royal guard’s shirt.
“Please, help me! Is it too late for me to join the Church of Light? I’m a sinner! Sinners need the Lord Messenger’s salvation, right?!”
The royal guard scoffed at him, “Monroe, come on! You can’t just cling to the Buddha’s feet in a crisis like this. This is up to the Lord Messenger’s discretion.”
“Don’t go! If you leave him here all alone, it’ll be a grave sin!”
Monroe pleaded desperately.
Royal guard Soros paused, mulling it over. After all, as a cleric of the Church of Light, he held a rank slightly higher than an archbishop in the various churches. If Morris truly was a Messenger, then as a cleric, he needed to guide him to the palace—it was simply customary.
“You have a point. Monroe, for that reason, maybe I’ll suggest to the Lord Messenger that your d*ath sentence be commuted.”
“Thank you, my lord!”
Monroe immediately dropped to the ground, looking as if he was about to cry from gratitude.
“Lord Messenger! His Majesty, the most devout follower of the Church of Light, will be thrilled to know of your arrival in the empire. There’s also a church within the palace where you can spread your teachings; I’m sure the entire empire’s followers will cheer for you!”
Soros bowed deeply.
Morris merely stared ahead, seemingly not noticing him at all.
But Soros dared not show a hint of impatience; even if the Lord Messenger remained silent all day, he would patiently wait.
Fortunately, after a long moment, Morris finally spoke.
“Those imprisoned in the dungeon’s embassy and my guard are my companions. Please allow them to accompany me.”
Soros was momentarily stunned and instinctively looked at Monroe.
After all, Monroe was the appointed interrogator by His Majesty; a mere royal guard like him couldn’t just take the lead here.
But at that moment, Monroe had already collapsed on the ground, panic-stricken. As soon as Soros glanced at him, Monroe screeched,
“Hurry! Release everyone from the embassy and the guards! Let them accompany the Lord Messenger into the palace!”
Soros thought, “…….”
Fine, he had forgotten that Monroe had been so scared by the miracle that he was terrified the Messenger would come back to extract revenge, so to him, the Messenger’s word was practically a royal decree.
Well, at least Monroe would take the blame. He was just a royal guard watching from the sidelines; even if the Emperor held him responsible later, it would have nothing to do with him.
After Monroe gave the order, the guards dashed to the dungeon to bring up the remaining twenty or so members of the embassy and guard.
The Captain of the Guards, Freeman, led the charge.
Soros and Freeman were old acquaintances, though Soros possessed royal bl**d while Freeman was a commoner who had risen to Captain rank through military merit.
They had previously fought side by side on the northern front, and thus knew each other.
For commoners like Freeman without the bloodline of the Four Warriors, the only way to level up was through diligent practice as a warrior.
For classes like harpists and mages that required bloodline aptitude, they might as well forget about it.
Even so, commoners could only rise to A-rank as warriors; only nobles with the bl**d of armored warriors could hope to achieve S-rank and above.
But today, upon seeing Freeman, Soros felt an unprecedented aura bearing down on him, similar only to the oppression from facing an S-rank warrior.
Wait a minute! Freeman had been apprehended while still an A-rank warrior; how had he suddenly transformed into an S-rank warrior now?
This… was impossible!
Could it be that within these few days, he had broken through his bloodline limitations and become the rare S-rank warrior?
To think an A-rank warrior might have the power to face twenty A-rank warriors, let alone the fact that S-rank warriors included top-tier fighters nearing SS-rank!
Could it be… his change was similar to Morris, receiving the blessing of the God of Light?
