Not a Confession, but a Declaration - Chapter 34

Those stationed near the entrance, at the very edge of the Sanctuary, were the first to see them: Holy Knights riding splendidly adorned white horses.

Clop. Clop.

Before Abel himself appeared, the Holy Knights advanced down the path.

Clad in immaculate white armor and mounted upon white steeds, these carefully selected knights, chosen as the very finest for today’s prayer, lined the way in orderly rows.

Once the holy knights who had entered first came to a halt, a mysterious white carriage appeared, escorted by them and accompanied by a man clad in armor signifying the Commander of the Holy Knights.

“Ah…”

Those standing near the entrance, who caught sight of the Herald of God, Abel, through the open carriage window, let out involuntary gasps of admiration as they watched the carriage roll past.

Only then did the nobles who had stubbornly refrained from facing anywhere but forward finally turn to look at Abel’s carriage.

The crowd held its breath until the carriage came to a stop before the platform.

As the Commander of the Holy Knights approached the carriage door, the knights escorting it spread out and formed a circle around the dais.

The commander dismounted and dropped to one knee before the carriage.

“Herald of God.”

With those solemn words, the carriage door opened.

Whether or not he realized that those gathered could scarcely even breathe, the man they had all been waiting for quietly revealed himself.

A few subdued murmurs rippled through the crowd at his appearance, but they quickly died away beneath the sharp gazes of the holy knights.

Taking Abel’s hand to help him descend, the Commander of the Holy Knights escorted him to the foot of the platform’s stairs.

Releasing the commander’s hand, Abel ascended the steps alone, each one engraved with passages from the sacred scriptures.

As he moved, the magnificent golden mantle trailing behind him swayed, along with his luminous white hair.

His pace was unbearably slow, yet no one found fault with it.

Without even blinking, the people stared at Abel’s retreating figure as it grew smaller and smaller.

And finally, when Abel reached the top of the staircase and turned to face them from the platform—

Their eyes filled with anticipation and yearning.

“Kneel.”

Abel’s voice was not particularly loud. Even so, the people hurriedly dropped to their knees and clasped their hands in prayer. Even the clergy, who had carried themselves with such composure until now, could no longer maintain their aloofness.

The holy knights who had escorted Abel dismounted as well, removing their helmets before sinking to one knee and looking up at the platform.

Nor was it only those within the Sanctuary. The believers outside the Temple, who had watched Abel ascend the dais, also fell to their knees, waiting for the miracle the Herald of God would bestow upon them.

And, just as they hoped—

“The son most beloved by Him offers his prayer.”

With those opening words, an immense and boundless divine power erupted from Abel like a raging vortex.

Radiating outward from him, that power spread far beyond the Temple itself, encompassing the entire Holy Land.

Yet those overwhelmed by the sacred power pouring down upon them failed to notice.

The reason no one dared doubt the Temple’s eventual victory.

The reason so many had sensed the Empire’s defeat after attending the prayer gathering only once.

The reason the prayer gathering had become the Temple’s greatest event.

The reason the Temple could never abandon Abel, the Herald of God.

All of it lay in Abel’s prayer.

“Ah…”

Entranced by the miracle enveloping their bodies, the people slowly raised their heads and looked upon the being bestowing blessings upon them.

The one chosen by God.

The child most beloved by the Father.

The Herald of God gazed down upon them, the Father’s sigil engraved upon his forehead glowing softly.

Overcome with emotion, the people offered up endless prayers.

They likely never realized that the reason Abel had looked around was simply to find Felix. Nor that, after finding the object of his affection, he had spent the rest of the ceremony looking at only one person.

And Felix, the sole recipient of Abel’s attention, did not look away from the gaze fixed squarely upon him.

Until the waves of divine power, spreading beyond the Sanctuary and rippling across the entire Holy Land, finally dissipated, the two of them held each other’s gaze for a long time.

Only two people noticed their prolonged exchange of looks: Pope Gregory, who had not been swept away by Abel’s sanctity and had instead been observing him closely, and the Duchess Spencer, who had paid no attention to Abel from the very beginning, her eyes fixed solely on her son.

Even so, neither of them could have guessed what Abel’s moving lips were saying.

The only person who understood him was Felix, the one who had never once taken his eyes off Abel.

The prayer concluded successfully, ending with Felix’s brow furrowing in displeasure.

And then, the very next day, the Temple was thrown into an uproar by the repercussions of Abel’s prayer.