Chapter 297 Curtain Call
Valerian's eyes darkened, but he quickly raised his hand for silence. The golden lines on his large robe flickered in the morning light. "If you insist on questioning the gods and committing blasphemy, then we will get straight to the point."
"As we all know, only divine grace can enable a sorcerer to resonate with the corresponding ideals in a sufficiently safe and appropriate manner." The Cardinal waved his hand casually, and a dazzling array of incantations flashed around him. A dazzling ball of light gathered in his palm, and the dazzling light immediately attracted exclamations from the sorcerers present - casting spells without chanting! This was something that only sorcerers at the Lord's Prayer level or above could achieve.
Under the astonished gazes of the crowd, Valerian continued, "But if faith wavers, at best the resonance lines will be damaged, and one's rank will be demoted. At worst, one's soul will be shattered, and one will die!"
He held up the ball of light, the blinding light stretching his shadow to the far end of the square. His voice boomed like thunder in everyone's ears: "But the society insists on advocating the so-called 'people can abandon faith and cultivate on their own,' even going so far as to blaspheme the gods! If this causes the faith of the sorcerers of the Silver Iris Empire to waver, their strength will plummet, or even their lives will be lost. The Far North nation of Forlos is watching covetously. In the face of national crisis, the Okansele Society is spreading rumors and misleading the people at this critical moment, attempting to murder all the sorcerers in the empire. What are their intentions?!"
As soon as these words were spoken, the crowd erupted in a commotion like a swarm of disturbed bees. The Church had always strictly controlled the practices of sorcerers, and most ordinary people had only a vague understanding of them.
...So that's how it is? A warlock's wavering faith could cost him his life? People whispered to each other, half believing and half doubting.
The owl sneered, but didn't confront him directly. Instead, he began to talk about history: "Do you know how many saints there were when the Silver Iris Empire was founded?"
"—Twelve! Twelve in total! The youngest saint was only thirty-seven!" He shouted sharply, "And in the middle of the last century, just like the orb of light that Lord Valerian showed off in his hand, any sorcerer's apprentice could easily summon without chanting! Even in the era of the heyday of faith in the gods, even ordinary housewives could use fire magic to light a fire!"
The old man clenched his fist and slammed it down on the podium. His voice echoed throughout the square, "But in just three or four hundred years, if a sorcerer could emerge among tens of thousands of people, or an apostle among thousands of sorcerers, it would be considered a blessing from the gods! How could sorcerers, who once roamed the land and resonated with all things, now decline to such a deplorable state?"
The stone slabs of Kite Heart Square seemed to begin to tremble slightly. Pope Mariono Sablic suddenly opened his slightly closed eyes. An extremely sharp light flashed through the saint's turbid eyes. He stared at the direction of the owl, with a hint of surprise in his eyes.
...Is this an illusion?
There was silence in Kite Heart Square. Many warlocks had thoughtful expressions on their faces. Only the hoarse voice of an owl hovered and echoed loudly over the square.
"This is because the gods have fallen one after another! Those great ancestors have completely left us with the passage of time. This era is unfortunate because our faith can no longer receive a response from the gods, and humanity has lost the protection of our ancestors."
His voice suddenly dropped, filled with unspeakable sorrow and pain. "Three hundred years, a full three hundred years! We've cried out to the light, we've prayed to love, we've sacrificed to the sea, we've wept into the darkness—but for three hundred years, no one has responded! We are left praying in vain... All the sorcerers present, aside from the so-called 'oracle' spoken of by the priests and ministers, has anyone here ever heard a response from the gods?! Anyone? Stand up!"
Pavaton Miller stared at the direction of the owl. He could feel the Pope's eyes slowly sliding across his face, but he just thought he was frightened and stood there motionless.
“—What nonsense!”
Under the gaze of the crowd, Valerian's face flushed with anger. He was about to open his mouth to rebuke, but was interrupted by the owl: "But the Radiant Church, in order to maintain its own status, blindly demands that humans pray to the dead 'gods', even smearing unbelievers who might become new gods as heretics and persecuting them wantonly, fearing that humans will recall how their ancestors in the first centuries resonated with all things, and that new gods will be born from humanity and seize their power and interests - how selfish and despicable is this! How greedy and ugly is this! I want to ask the Church's true intentions?!"
A bell suddenly rang, interrupting the confrontation between the two men and the discussion in the crowd. Cassius II said lazily, "Gentlemen, please do not interrupt others and do not make personal attacks on each other—"
Valerian's chest heaved rapidly. He forced himself to calm down and sneered, "What you say is nothing more than the society's conjecture. They've fabricated such ridiculous claims based on a few so-called historical documents. Unbelievers can indeed cultivate, but facts have proven that they ultimately go mad. Who can prove your claim that 'unbelievers will eventually cultivate and become gods'?"
"I can prove it." The owl adjusted his collar elegantly and raised his head proudly.
"Can you—"
“I am a non-believer.”
Amidst the crowd's gasps, the first person to admit his status as an unbeliever before the Pope, arrogantly bared his arms before them. He ignored the exasperated Valerian and instead looked in the Pope's direction, "Your Holiness, do you find it strange that you, a saint, cannot see into my soul?"
Owl stretched out his hand, and a colorful fateful spider slowly crawled out from his sleeve and lay docilely in his palm.
"Your Holiness should recognize this thing." He suppressed his complicated feelings towards this little creature that had both saved and harmed him, and continued, "This is a creation left behind by the goddess of fate, Lamodo. The spider silk it spits can even hinder the gods' exploration."
"...Fate Spider, it is true." The Pope gripped the scepter tightly and spoke slowly.
"So what?" Valerian came back to his senses and retorted through gritted teeth: "No matter what sorcery you use to deceive people, even if you are a Lord's Prayer, the fate of the unbelievers is still only madness and destruction—"
The smile on Owl's face couldn't help but grow wider: "But I am a saint."
He narrowed his eyes with pride and nodded to the crowd below who were stunned by the series of shocking news - he knew that the audience he had chosen must be carefully watching this final splendor before the curtain call.
The queen leaned forward, her fingers gripping the armrest so tightly that she didn't even notice her nails splitting. If the president of the Oakensale Society was truly a saint, the stalemate between Silver Iris and Fellowes would have been broken in an instant.
This is definitely extremely exciting good news. If it is true as the owl said, that an unbeliever like him can become a god, it means that those 'favored by God' can become gods... then who cares whether he is an unbeliever or not, and who cares whether the status of the white-robed people in the Holy See will plummet because of this.
Mariono Sablic slowly stood up, and as the scepter slammed heavily to the ground, the entire Kite Heart Square seemed to be shrouded in some invisible force. A dazzling and grand light rose from behind the Pope, and everyone was blinded by the light.
Owl sneered, extending his arms. A towering white phantom descended from the sky, shattering the light. The two immense forces collided fiercely above Kite Heart Square, creating a harsh buzzing sound in the air.
At this moment, the deafening bell rang again. Cassius II was still hunched in his chair, playing with a small and exquisite pocket watch.
"That's enough, Your Excellency the Two Saints." Amidst the utter silence, the king said nonchalantly, "You attempted to cast a forbidden spell in the royal city. Are you trying to demolish my Kite Heart Palace?"
"My apologies, Your Majesty. Please forgive my impoliteness." The owl was the first to withdraw while still knowing what was going on. "I simply wished to demonstrate the true strength of a saint before His Holiness the Pope."
The Pope was silent for a moment, then bowed his head toward the king and put down his scepter. "Just to avoid conspiracy and lies—please understand, Your Majesty."
"Enough, enough. I'm tired of hearing that." Cassius II clicked his tongue impatiently and clapped his hands. A servant came forward respectfully, holding a tray with two luxurious gold cups inlaid with gems, filled with bright red wine.
The king nodded towards the two golden wine glasses and said, "Come on, the two speakers, have a drink together as a break."
What happened next is what historians call a major turning point in the reign of Cassius II, the "Last King," and one of the most bizarre and strange political mysteries.
According to the memoirs left by Cassius II's attendants, on the morning of the "Forum Debate", Cardinal Joshua Valerian was the first to come to the throne. After thanking the king and queen, he first picked up the glass of wine on his left hand, pondered for a moment, then picked up the glass on his right hand, turned around and handed it to the owl personally, with a forced smile on his face.
"Respect the truth, Your Excellency the Saint—if all this is true."
The owl rolled its eyes at him rudely, raised its golden cup in a salute towards the king and queen, then tilted its head back and drank it all in one gulp.
"To the truth," the owl said sarcastically, "if you really know what 'truth' is."
But about thirty seconds later, this unbeliever who had just proved himself a saint in front of everyone ten minutes ago suddenly covered his throat in pain, his face turned ashen, his eyes turned blood red, and a large amount of blood gushed out of his throat. Along with the sound of an owl half-kneeling on the ground, the golden wine cup fell from his hand and hit the ground with a clang.
Everyone exclaimed in shock, and the Royal City Army immediately sprang into action, shouts of "Protect the Emperor!" The owl's bloodshot eyes fixed on the stunned Valerian. He uttered only one sentence, "Poisoning! Despicable!" before collapsing to the ground, completely dead.
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