Simple

Word soon began to spread—word of a battle so fierce it had destroyed an entire forest and split the skies, revealing a grand eye of fathomless depth. To most, this was merely another sign of the imminent awakening of their grand god, but to high-level officials, it signaled something far more dangerous. It was a harbinger of chaos.

Tribulations of such magnitude only occurred when someone broke into a higher realm or defied the natural order. Since the church kept tight control over all cultivators, monitoring them constantly, they knew this wasn't the former. It had to be the latter. And that was terrible news.

Not even a day after Caine's battle, the infamous Holy Guard was dispatched by the Pope himself. Villages were put on lockdown, and a dark net of suspicion was cast over the world. The hearts of the people, previously filled with anticipation of their god's awakening, were now weighed down with an uneasy sense of dread. 

Something was coming.

***

Riding upon horses that stepped through the air as if it were solid ground, a unit of soldiers adorned in white and gold armor could be seen moving swiftly. At the helm rode a man with long blonde hair and piercing emerald eyes, a deep frown etched onto his face as he departed from the village the Pope had sent him to investigate.

They had been tasked with capturing a young man—the one supposedly responsible for the recent upheaval. However, things hadn't gone as planned. Not long after the Holy Guard had been dispatched, they received word that the village had been seized by the very youth they sought.

A message had been sent, along with images of a grand formation hovering in the skies above the village, trapping everyone below. Demands followed, stipulating conditions for the safe return of the village's civilians. It was audacious, but the Holy Guard complied, sending what was requested, confident they would reclaim it once they arrived.

What could a single teenager do against the most elite squadron of holy warriors?

Unfortunately, nothing went according to plan.

When the Holy Guard finally reached the village, it was empty. Not a single soul remained. All that greeted them was a trail of footsteps leading into an underground maze. Undeterred, they pressed forward, raiding the labyrinth in search of the young man. Along the way, they found villagers tied up but otherwise unharmed.

As they delved deeper, their confidence grew—until they encountered an unexpected obstacle.

An army.

But not just any army—an army of monsters, mud golems formed from a strange fusion of earthen and water magic. The creatures had an unnatural vitality, regenerating faster than the guards could cut them down. For every golem that was split in two, two more would rise from its remains. No matter how many were destroyed, more would emerge to replace them, slowly overwhelming the Holy Guard.

Realizing they were at risk of being swarmed, the guards retreated. They sealed the maze and returned to the surface, only to find themselves caught in yet another trap. The formation from the earlier images reappeared, targeting the Holy Guard directly and teleporting them hundreds of thousands of miles away from their original position.

Now, defeated and humiliated, the Holy Guard made their way back to the capital to report the fiasco to the Pope.

"Bastard…"

Reinhard, the squadron's leader, scowled as they rode in silence. By now, he knew they were dealing with an opponent far more cunning than they had anticipated. It was clear that this entire affair had been orchestrated to humiliate him and his men.

'A master of the arcane arts, capable of such a feat, is rare,' he mused. 'As far as I know, only the Pope and his Holy Childes possess such mastery. Could one of them have betrayed our cause?'

His thoughts continued to swirl in frustration, deepening the frown on his face. His men, riding silently behind him, shared his grave expression—except for one.

Among the group was a man with short brown hair and bright blue eyes. He wore the same white and gold armor as the others, his face serious. But there was something off about his demeanor—something almost playful in the way his gaze flickered between his comrades.

A strange light flashed in the man's eyes—a silver gleam—before he quickly concealed it.

'Good,' he thought, his lips twitching into a small, hidden smile.

***

The Holy Capital was a sight to behold.

Polished grey stone paved the streets, intricate runes glowing faintly from their surface. White banners adorned with the Ouroboros—the symbol of a snake biting its own tail—hung from every corner, fluttering gently in the breeze. The buildings themselves seemed to swirl in concentric rings around a massive central tower, The Church, a monolith of white stone that pierced the sky.

Its gothic architecture, sleek white bricks, and enormous silver-stained glass windows made it a wonder of the world. The tower's peak was so tall that it seemed to touch the heavens.

Despite the brewing unrest, the atmosphere in the capital was vibrant. Men, women, and children filled the streets, dressed in simple religious garments marked with the Ouroboros insignia. Laughter echoed as children played, and vendors called out to passersby, the scent of spices wafting through the air.

But the joyful scene was abruptly interrupted as the Holy Guard rode through the streets. The crowd parted in awe, their voices hushed, and gasps of admiration echoed through the air.

The Holy Guard paid no attention to the stares. They moved with purpose, making their way toward the towering church that dominated the city skyline.

"Return to the barracks and rest," Reinhard commanded. "We'll most likely be sent out again soon, so be ready."

"Yes, sir!" his soldiers responded in unison before veering off toward a grand castle that stood not far from the church.

As they rode away, Reinhard continued toward the Church, his mind focused on his upcoming report to the Pope. He knew that failure was not an option, and yet… he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far more dangerous.