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III.

“Your Excellency Ruasil, please begin the purification.”

“Begin the purification-!”

The dim chapel, lit only by candlelight. Dozens of flames illuminated just one person upon the dais.

The High Priest, Ruasil Arno.

A man called the living incarnation of the Sun God, Erios.

Dressed only in a thin white robe that hinted at the skin beneath, he gazed down benevolently at the people kneeling on the floor. Then, from his beautifully full lips flowed a voice like an angel’s song.

“Upon the children of God, I bestow the blessing of purification.”

The robe, embroidered with grape leaves in golden thread, slipped to the floor. Revealing a body as white as the garment itself. A form of flawless beauty and purity. From his fingertips to his half-e***t p***s, every part was perfect. Even if one were to summon a master sculptor to carve the image of Erios, it could not be more complete than this.

The priests and priestesses below the dais adjusted their kneeling postures. The looks they cast upon this man, holier than a god, held both reverence and lust. The vestments that had modestly covered their bodies had long been cast aside.

This was the Ritual of Purification for the Sun God Erios. The children of God waited naked for the High Priest’s blessing. It was the moment they anticipated most in the week’s ceremonies.

Ruasil tilted his head back, gazing at the ceiling painting of the Sun God Erios. The god in the painting could not capture even a fraction of Ruasil’s beauty. No wonder he was called the god’s incarnation.

He stretched both hands toward the heavens as if gathering the radiant energy of the sun. His eyelids were firmly shut. He stood still as if in prayer, then lowered his hands.

To his e***t member, standing firm like a marble statue.

The pinkish phallus, perfectly straight, bending to neither side. It was a monstrous size, so large that the glans would remain exposed even if gripped with both hands, yet its shape and color were so perfect that even the act of m**********n seemed sacred rather than obscene.

His right hand stroked slowly from the root to the glans, then began to move rapidly. Schlop, sap, slop. As the movement of his hand quickened, the veins on his forearm bulged. Yet his handsome face remained serene, as if feeling no pleasure at all.

His golden hair, flowing down to his shoulders, swayed gracefully. Sacred beads of sweat formed sparsely on his forehead. A transparent, mucous fluid trickled from the glans, now engorged and red with blood. The hand frictioning his shaft moved faster.

“Hah.”

His rigid body tilted forward slightly, and a powerful, milky-white fluid spurted forth, scattering like a shower below the podium. The priests and priestesses received the god’s blessing with ecstatic faces. Those who had been touched by even a drop of Ruasil’s seed rose and moved to the very back of the chapel. Those who had been in the back crawled forward, eagerly awaiting the next blessing.

That day’s blessing occurred five times, and a total of forty-five priests and priestesses received the High Priest’s grace. It was twice the usual number.

“With this, we conclude today’s sacred Blessing Ritual. May the love of the Sun God Erios burn warmly in the hearts of his children.”

“Ru-mon (An archaic term for ‘I believe in Erios’).”

Ruasil put his robe back on and descended from the podium. Not even a trace of heat from the successive emissions showed on his pale face. After wiping his g******s and hands with a damp cloth, he entered his private prayer chamber.

Only then did the tension drain from the High Priest’s face, which had been stiff like a mask. Leaning back into the soft sofa, he let out a long sigh.

“Phew…”

The Ritual of Blessing was over; now it was time to rest. Yet, even after e*********g five times, his member refused to subside. It seemed no amount of release would quell this heat.

“This is maddening. Why is this happening to me?”

Should he call some priestesses to his chamber?

According to the teachings of the Sun God Erios, the mingling of bodies among the children of God was not considered corruption. Therefore, while priests and priestesses maintained chaste conduct outside, within the temple, they mingled without reservation.

To them, corruption meant offering one’s body to someone who had not dedicated themselves to the god, and coupling with a heathen was the most heinous sin of all.

Ruasil was eighteen. Since offering himself to the temple, he had been summoned daily to the prayer chambers of high-ranking priestesses. He never desired it, but he had no choice either. As if sinking into depravity, he slowly grew accustomed to the temple’s ways.

Five years passed like that, and then he was elevated to the position of High Priest. The temple was thrown into chaos for a time, fueled by the desire to monopolize his beauty, until an unspoken agreement was reached: ‘No one can have Ruasil.’ Power was placed in his hands as a compromise. The citizens of the empire, unaware of the internal politics, celebrated the rise of the young and beautiful High Priest.