Chapter 165: The Church’s Memo
This was Flora’s former home, the place where she had grown up, only to die here, caught in the Church’s internal power struggles. As she walked through the Church headquarters with Abyss in the Shadow Realm, her emotions were a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. She held his hand tightly, occasionally stopping to share a memory, a story from her past.
The Church headquarters, built by Western Empire artisans in a time of close alliance between the two powers, was a grand display of Western Empire architecture, its white stone walls adorned with gold and silver paint, intricate carvings, and imposing statues.
Its opulence rivaled that of the Golden Griffin City palace, but its scale was far grander, its grounds more extensive, housing a larger population. The surrounding area was uninhabited, any settlements forbidden within a large radius.
They ventured deeper into the complex, reaching the inner sanctum, where the Church’s most closely guarded secrets were kept, its highest-ranking officials resided, protected by layers of security, both magical and divine. But for Abyss and Flora, these defenses were insignificant.
“This palace houses a library and several archives, where the Church’s records and secrets are kept,” Flora explained, leading him towards an elegant building. “I often came here to read. The library isn’t large, but its contents are restricted to the most devout followers, containing esoteric knowledge and hidden histories.”
Abyss looked around, curious. He had visited the Church headquarters before, but never with a guide, never with such intimate access.
“If you want to see our wanted posters, there’s a notice board in the main hall, similar to the Adventurers’ Guild’s job board, although these missions aren’t for public consumption. The Church assigns them directly,” Flora said, guiding him past two Paladins standing guard. “This notice board is restricted. There are two layers of security: the guards, and the inscriptions themselves, which require a specific Divine Art to decipher, a spell only accessible to those with sufficient divine favor.”
The Church’s Divine Arts weren’t simply a matter of memorizing prayers. The different ranks among Divine Arts users reflected the level of divine favor they received. Lower-ranking practitioners, even if they knew the prayers, couldn’t achieve the same results and often suffered greater consequences. This system prevented unauthorized access to sensitive information.
Abyss and Flora, however, had no such limitations. They bypassed the guards effortlessly, their presence undetected within the Hall of Knowledge. And they both possessed an immense amount of divine favor, likely unmatched by anyone else in the world.
“Here it is. This notice board requires a Divine Art called the ‘Eye of Knowledge.’ I’ll teach you the prayer,” Flora said, leading him to a wall in the main hall. It was different from the other walls, its surface dark, like a blackboard, but much larger, its surface blank.
Flora taught him the prayer, a spell he hadn’t encountered before. The Divine Arts user whose soul he had once consulted hadn’t been high-ranking enough to access the Hall of Knowledge.
Abyss cast a subtle illusion, concealing them from view, then they exited the Shadow Realm, using the Eye of Knowledge to decipher the inscriptions on the notice board.
“Ah, here we are,” Abyss said, pointing at a line of text. “We’re still wanted. It seems the Church hasn’t made much progress. Few know about your Divine Arts abilities, and even fewer know I’m a necromancer. Even Givia’s public praise hasn’t revealed our identities.”
The inscription read: “Saint Flora’s tomb desecrated, her remains stolen by a necromancer, still at large. The Saint’s body has likely been resurrected, possibly sighted in Golden Griffin City, but her current location remains unknown.”
They exchanged amused glances, enjoying the Church’s ignorance.
“It seems I don’t need to erase their memories yet,” Abyss said, shrugging. “I wonder how the Nine Gods would react if I attacked the Church.”
“They wouldn’t waste their resources on you,” Flora said, shaking her head. “I know my value to them—to the outside world, a Saint is the Church’s spokesperson, a revered figure. But internally, a Saint is just a mouthpiece, a pretty, well-spoken girl whose words carry weight. And I was a disobedient mouthpiece, daring to seek real power, to challenge their traditions. Many resented me, despised me. They’re only pursuing the matter of my stolen body to save face, not because they truly care about what happened to me.”
Abyss, hearing the sadness in her voice, tightened his grip on her hand.
They continued reading. Abyss noticed that his broadcast of Givia’s Blood Atonement ritual had also been recorded. Not because it violated any Church laws, but because they were curious about the mage who possessed such power—they didn’t like powerful mages operating outside their control.
Then, they found something even more interesting.
“A scimitar, an artifact of an Outer God, has been stolen from the secret vault. Most of the vault’s guards were killed, a few are missing. This artifact is a blasphemous object and must be recovered. Its continued presence in this world could have dire consequences,” Abyss read aloud, then turned to Flora. “What’s going on? How did the Church lose such an important artifact?”
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