Not a Confession, but a Declaration - Chapter 33

Several nobles attending the ceremony for the first time cast furtive glances beyond the marble pathway that led directly to the platform.

The atmosphere on either side of the path was starkly different.

On the left stood figures affiliated with the Temple, while on the right gathered the rulers and influential figures of various nations.

The Temple’s representatives stood tall and proud, their heads held high and their backs straight. Meanwhile, those who wielded considerable authority in their own countries fidgeted restlessly, unable to conceal their anticipation as they repeatedly looked behind them.

“When does it begin?”

“Please wait just a little longer.”

Why?

Because ordinary people, no matter how exalted their status, could not attend the prayer ceremony at will unless they were members of the clergy.

Many of those seated on the right had devoted years of painstaking effort for the chance to be here today.

In contrast, the direct descendants of clergy were granted the right to attend the Invocations with relative ease. As a result, in recent years, people of every social class had begun fervently hoping that someone in their family would manifest divine power.

Given the circumstances, it was perhaps only natural that the atmosphere on the left, where the Temple’s representatives had gathered, stood in stark contrast to that on the right, where those who had gone to great lengths behind the scenes to secure this opportunity were assembled.

Of course, this was merely the overall atmosphere; it certainly did not apply to everyone.

This was especially true of the Empire’s representatives, who had attended every single prayer assembly since the very first one.

How, despite being at odds with the Temple, had the imperial family and high-ranking nobles of the Empire managed to attend the prayer gathering year after year?

The answer lay in an agreement forged more than a decade earlier, when the first prayer assembly had been held and the power of the Temple and the Empire had still been evenly matched.

In exchange for the Empire attending the inaugural gathering and lending the Temple legitimacy, the Temple had agreed to accept a fixed number of individuals sent by the Empire to the prayers every year.

However, the agreement had only been made for a period of fifteen years, and many believed that the Empire’s current stubbornness would not last much longer.

In recent years, tensions between the Empire and the Temple had only intensified, leading many to view the Empire’s resistance as nothing more than a final, desperate struggle before it was forced to bow its head completely.

Once it did, everyone knew that it would never regain its former strength for as long as the Herald of God remained.

The victor had already been decided; all that remained uncertain was when that victory would finally come.

Yet, in contrast to all this speculation, the faces of those standing at the very front of each faction remained perfectly composed: the Pope and the High Priests at the head of the Temple’s side, and the Emperor and the Empire’s high-ranking nobles at the forefront of the other.

As they waited for the ceremony to begin, those gathered within the Sanctuary eagerly anticipated the prayer while simultaneously letting their eyes dart about, busy trying to predict the future of the two powers.

But all such distractions vanished the moment the bells of the clock tower rang out, announcing the appointed hour.

The murmuring ceased, and the priests moved in perfect unison.

“Everyone, please rise!”

At the shout of the priest standing directly before the platform, all those waiting rose from their seats.

And when the bell rang for the twelfth and final time, a thunderous roar of cheers erupted from outside the Temple, shaking both heaven and earth.

Lord Abel!

Herald of God!

From the heart of the Holy Land, the procession carrying Abel had begun its advance.

Had they turned around at that moment, they would likely have seen Abel’s pure white carriage approaching the Temple.

But none of them dared to look back.

At the end of the long procession route, at the destination where Abel was to arrive, the people held their breath and waited for the Herald of God.

The wait was long.

With no canopy overhead, the blazing sunlight beat down relentlessly, and without even the slightest breeze, sweat trickled down their bodies.

Yet not a single person left their place or voiced a complaint. Enduring aching legs and suppressing the urge to turn around, they simply waited for Abel to arrive.

Judging from the ever-growing cheers and thunderous acclamations, they could roughly estimate where Abel was.

How much time had passed like that?

A Holy Knight came galloping in on horseback and announced that Abel had entered the Temple grounds.

Outside, the believers who had been unable to enter continued to surround the Temple, their voices endlessly rising in praise of Abel and in prayers to the Father.

Then came the sound of approaching hoofbeats.