Originally, he had wanted to seize control of the narrative and reinforce the Nun’s perception, but now, a single sentence from her had disturbed his own mind.
Many thoughts surged through Lance’s mind, and the Nun herself was digesting the complex information without any intention of speaking.
Since both parties felt this way, Lance had no intention of lingering and ended the conversation hastily with just a few words.
After leaving, Lance knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night without clarifying this matter. He didn’t hesitate much and headed straight for Reynard’s ho.
However, as he stepped out of the sanatorium and the night wind hit him, Lance suddenly woke up to reality.
He realized that he had fallen into the Nun’s trap, completely overlooking that the issues she had raised were not ant to absolve the Church, but to seek answers.
His words just now hadn’t shaken her at all; instead, he had helped her break free from the Church’s constraints.
His earlier smugness now almost made him lose his composure. He felt a burning heat on his back, and his face likely felt the sa.
Was she really so naive?
Could this be what they call hidden wisdom?
For a while, Lance grew suspicious. He spent the journey replaying the interaction in his mind, trying to pinpoint what felt off, but he couldn’t grasp it. Then, he looked up and realized he had arrived at Reynard’s house.
Lance had thought their family would be asleep by this hour. Yet, to his surprise, Ryan was still in the yard practicing his swordsmanship and sweating profusely, while Reynard and his wife were enjoying the cool evening air.
There wasn’t much overt display of affection between them, but simply sitting together, they exuded an inexplicable harmony.
"Sorry to interrupt," Lance greeted as he approached, without saying much more, just glancing at Reynard.
"Ryan, that’s enough for today. Let wipe your sweat," the woman said, consciously taking her son away and leaving the space for the two n.
Lance didn’t approach Reynard with the sa scheming and probing he used on others but relayed the situation directly. Their revolutionary friendship was still strong.
Reynard appeared sowhat shocked upon hearing it, yet he ca to a new conclusion.
"My Lord, do you know that the Church itself is divided into factions?"
"How so?"
"One faction believes in the Holy Fla, and the other in the Holy Light. This distinction is visible in their respective grand cross icons: one has a fla emblem in the center, while the other has a radiant emblem. It’s rumored that the Holy Light denomination separated from the Holy Fla denomination. Perhaps many years ago, soone similar awakened and began to preach the Holy Light."
Lance truly didn’t know this. His own inclinations were probably the reason no one dared to discuss the Church with him. And with his hands so full he couldn’t even manage Hamlet thoroughly, he certainly hadn’t taken the ti to understand the Church’s affairs.
But now, things seed rather interesting.
The worship of the Holy Fla might stem from ancient reverence for fire, so it’s not surprising that worship of the Holy Light evolved from it. After all, fire also emits light that dispels darkness. In that dark and despairing dungeon, what Junia longed for was likely light itself, which was why she awakened the power of the Holy Light.
Lance pondered, refining his hypothesis, while Reynard fell into his own deep contemplation.
He had tried to connect with the power of the Holy Light during the holy wars but to no avail. The Priest had said he wasn’t devout enough. At the ti, Reynard believed it was true. However, after hearing about My Lord’s research on Transcendents, he realized there was such a thing as Inspiration Talent.
He had believed he’d have no connection with the Holy Light in this lifeti. How, after coming to Hamlet, had his family suddenly beco harmonious, his life blissful, and even the Holy Light, previously so difficult to touch, begun to shine upon him again? Could it be that My Lord was the embodint of the Holy Light?
"Have you experienced anything strange recently?"
Lance’s question interrupted Reynard’s wild thoughts. He, too, wanted to get to the bottom of this quickly and carefully searched his mory, finding only one unusual incident.
"At that ti, during the battle against the Heretic of the Ascension Sect..."
During that mont of despair, a mysterious strength had erged within him, and it was this strength that helped him hold off the monster, buying ti for Barton to enter the fray.
Indeed, extre emotions could trigger changes in one’s inspiration, but that shouldn’t have been enough to alter one’s constitution...
As Lance thought it over, the only key to Reynard’s change was the Bless—the transformation of his body.
Everything made sense then. Did it imply that both the Holy Fla and Holy Light were the result of subjective Spiritual Essence influences? The idea of imposing individual consciousness on Spiritual Essence to create effects didn’t align with his previous research hypotheses. But damn it, now that a god had appeared, questioning everything beca less important. The real question was, if this were true, could he not mass-produce Transcendents? However, that wasn’t realistic because of the scarcity of Spiritual Essence; the loyalty of the individuals involved would still need to be considered.
Lance considered for a mont that his current strength was sufficient against most enemies. It was ti to strengthen a few of the core individuals around him and begin enhancing their collective power.
Otherwise, he’d always worry about his ho being burglarized whenever he went out. He needed several strong and absolutely loyal guardians. Besides, if they grew stronger, they could handle more tasks.
Reynard, a man who had passed multiple tests, was trustworthy, so no further tests were necessary.
"Summon Dismas and Balistan. Rember our oath," Lance said softly, a phrase that imdiately caused Reynard to tense up; it was the initial pact he had never abandoned.
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