Seven Hills, Saint Nalos Cathedral.
The cold evening breeze rushed into this magnificent cathedral from the outside, an invisible hand gently lifting the white curtains, stirring the flickering candle flas, which seed to co alive, breathing with the air.
As the power center of the Holy Evangelical Pope Kingdom, Saint Nalos Cathedral is far more magnificent than ordinary people can imagine. Its soaring spires are like spears pointing to the sky, brightly lit here, resonating with the lodious hymns, day and night without end.
This is the place where the world's faith is most concentrated, the grandest cathedral in human history, built entirely of enormous, orderly white bricks, inlaid with gold and silver. Beneath this land are buried the popes of past generations, a pilgrimage site that all believers yearn for.
So say that deep within this city-like cathedral lies a great door, that leads to the sacred Celestial Kingdom.
Ascending those historical steps, the long red carpet stretches beneath the golden icon. It gazes up at the do, on which the engraved gods also gaze down upon the mortal realm, even on a cold winter night, warmth lingers here, sweet scent filling the air, lted wax solidifying on the ground, forming a white tide that engulfs all faith.
The priest is dressed in a black cassock, a flintlock and sword slightly revealed with each step.
He is so out of place here, although the priest is the most devout believer, beneath the flesh lies the soul of a devil.
Logically speaking, managing such a vast building would require many people, yet every ti the priest returns here it's the sa, everything is orderly, as if servants have just attended to it, but no matter how you search, you will find that here it seems as if you're the only person, as if what keeps this cathedral running is an unseen ghost, a warmth that chills the soul.
The sound of a pen scratching across paper begins. The person, dressed in a simple white robe, sits behind a mahogany desk filled with docunts. Here, there are no traces of steam technology; everything is as depicted in centuries-old paintings, ancient and solemn.
Like a sea, the candle flas surge around that person, gently rippling as the breeze passes through.
The interior of Saint Nalos Cathedral, like a labyrinth, is grand and vast. Many functional departnts of the Evangelical Church are established within it, and even the Pope Hall, which holds tight to power, is so. It's situated on the upper levels of the church, where you can overlook the sunrise and moonrise of the entire Seven Hills from its stained glass windows.
The priest did not disturb that person; he knelt on one knee upon the red carpet, his head bowed in silence.
Ti passed for a long ti, everything so quiet that only the scratching of the pen and wax dripping could be heard until a weary sigh shattered the silence.
"Fr. Anthony?"
The person did not raise his head, just continued writing sothing on the paper; he was very focused, the pen strokes strong.
Once, docunts written on this desk determined the fate of the entire Western world, and now a new fate is being devised, by his hand, the current Pope, revered as the Emperor of Emperors, Sainy Loter.
"Your Grace."
The priest responded.
"Well, how are things handling?"
The pope casually asked, the pen dipping into ink, continuing to write.
"The heretics have all been burned, their remains thrown into the Tiber River, now no one will oppose our proposal to build factories."
"What about the old ones?"
"They have realized the situation is lost and are preparing to flee abroad, most intercepted and secretly executed on charges of treason. A few stragglers are still being hunted down."
"And those who submitted? Do they still try to resist?"
"No, we have repeatedly suppressed them in secret, now their wealth has significantly shrunk, and those industries will return to the church's control one by one."
A brief conversation, devoid of any emotion, yet such conversations determine the direction of a kingdom.
The pope finally finished writing, he lifted his head. It was not an extraordinary face, but a simple iron mask, with exquisite patterns outlined in gold thread, hiding the true visage underneath.
"Fr. Anthony, I think it's ti for you to step out of the shadows. The country is stable now, we should set our sights further afield."
During the pope's short tenure, he has successfully grasped all power, and now this power is set to extend beyond the borders.
"Your Grace..."
The priest was a bit stunned for a mont. He is a guardian in the shadows, the pope's secret envoy, yet now the thing in the shadows is about to step out into the light.
"This task may be one only you can handle."
The pope stood up; his voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable command, and the priest could only slowly rise, following closely behind the pope.
"Fr. Anthony, you've probably heard those rumors recently, haven't you?"
"Are you referring to..."
"The Demon Hunting Order, there's nothing to hide, just speak plainly."
Unlike the infamous ruthless Blood Pope of legend, the actual Pope lacked any unapproachable aura; he was very personable, much like an ordinary priest. Yet, the priest could sense that beneath that calm exterior lay a mystery and violence beyond human perception.
He was like a giant whale swimming in the ocean, without ferocious fangs or any terrifying killing intent, almost like a mascot. But when that whale turned its body, it could easily shatter ships.
"The Demon Hunting Order has been rebuilt, and most of the logistics maintenance is gradually catching up. Even the long-sealed Static Holy Temple has reopened... But Fr. Anthony, I have now only created armor and warhorses; what we lack now are knights who can fight."
The Pope did not continue speaking, rely glanced back at the priest. Beneath those iron eye sockets was a pitch-black expanse. If not for the priest seeing faint specks of light in that darkness, he would have thought that an unseen ghost was at work beneath the iron mask and robes.
"Follow ."
He said once more.
In the deep corridor, every late night when walking through this grand cathedral, the priest always felt as if he had stepped into an endless labyrinth, with every corner of his vision seeming to have no end.
So say that within this vast labyrinth lie many secrets. So doors lead to the tombs of past Popes, so doors lead to unspeakable mysteries, and others are said to conceal a great door beyond which lies the Holy Celestial Kingdom.
He didn't know where the Pope intended to take him. The priest had only a vague sense of what was to co and felt a slight sense of danger. Yet before that mysterious Emperor of Emperors, the priest did not even have the courage to grip his sword of iron-cutting might.
Only the Pope understood the full scope of this vast labyrinth. Due to its protracted construction, Saint Nalos Cathedral had always been in a state of being built and used simultaneously. Keys to most rooms had long been lost and forgotten, only the Universal Key in the Pope's hand could open it all.
"We've arrived, Fr. Anthony."
The Pope suddenly said. At so point, the two of them had stopped before a massive wall, upon which were carved angels and demons, both bearing expressions of sorrow so lifelike that the priest was montarily entranced.
He once handled a case of heresy involving a sculptor of exceptional skill, whose works were so lifelike that people said he trapped human souls within the stone to give his sculptures the "vitality" of living beings.
The wall before him was just like that, as if it imprisoned both angels and demons within.
"Your Eminence..."
The priest had never felt such unease.
"Fr. Anthony, you are one of the few who have received the Secret Blood's gift, and after Lawrence's betrayal, we virtually lost the Secret Blood technology. That's why I hope you'll take on the responsibility of rebuilding the Demon Hunting Order and not let down."
"Are you saying you want to beco... the new Dean?"
The priest's voice trembled slightly, an honor so great, yet so fearso.
The iron face nodded, the voice unmistakable.
"During your busy days, we found traces of Dean Lawrence. Having betrayed God, he must pay the price."
The Pope spoke, then from beneath that white robe produced a hexagonal iron key. In the light, the priest could see its smooth surface bore many barely discernible grooves, and these nearly imperceptible indentations constituted the Universal Key that could open anything.
Familiar with inserting it into the crack within the wall, it didn't even require a turn; the key started moving on its own. The massive chanical structure unseen to the priest shifted and worked, slowly drawing back the heavy wall to reveal a dust and rust-covered elevator.
"I've heard the rumors. They call this thing the Gate of Celestial Kingdom."
His words carried a hint of amusent, whether a laugh or sothing else unclear.
The priest stood there in a daze. The rumors were true. Hidden within this labyrinthine cathedral was indeed a gateway to the Celestial Kingdom, now standing open before the priest, with all secrets buried within, as the wind from those depths began to gently blow forth.
"As the new Dean, there is much for you to learn, Fr. Anthony."
The voice from beneath the iron mask ca with an eerie resonance.
They stepped inside, and soon afterward, the door sealed shut. The long-dormant elevator began to work, accompanied by the grinding sound of tal as it descended, leaving only the sound of the priest's breath in the darkness until faint red light began to seep up through the cracks beneath his feet.
Then suddenly, an inexplicable force took hold of his throat, fear and pressure advancing together. As the depth increased, encroachnt continuously struck, and what seed like a magnificent orchestra erged from the confusion, becoming clear, like a choir singing in a grand song within that red glow.
Suddenly, he let out a hoarse laugh.
The priest now knew the ultimate destination, though it struck him as sowhat laughable. This was no Gate of Celestial Kingdom; it led straight down to the burning hell in the dark depths.
The long-forgotten base of the Demon Hunting Order.
Static Holy Temple.
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