An exaggerated monologue echoed through the air. The voice penetrates and melts into the surrounding black space.
It was as if the world had been prepared for this shadow. As if it were its domain. Everything is at the mercy of the shadow.
You had your hand in it first. And don't forget. This is my realm.
The shadow had a faint outline. It's demonic, it's still human, but it's something else. Something elusive and indescribable. But it was definitely starting to take shape.
"Just a little movement of my little finger in my bed. What do you have to complain about?
An exaggerated laugh was sucked back into the blackness. The laughter never stops, as if it's insane, but it's always happy.
Even though he knew that everything would be sucked into the blackness, his voice echoed on and on and on.
The main hall of the temple.
The main hall of the temple. The repository of the heraldic wisdom and wit. The main hall of the temple.
It was truly an impressive sight. I wonder if there is any other place in the kingdom where so much knowledge has been accumulated.
The heralds have always made it one of their doctrines to seize and gather knowledge, letters and their equivalents. The truth of the world is in the search, and the coat of arms points to it. I believe that's what they used to say.
I guess you could call it the worship of knowledge. Their deprivation was sometimes so great that it even caused wars. I don't know the details of it. But it is certain that its belligerent religious stance and its maniacal worship of knowledge were far from pervasive. In a sense, it is not surprising that the momentum of the movement waned as the years went by, since even exclusive thoughts and philosophies were collected as a form of knowledge.
"Wow! Look, look, look at this! I've never seen anything like this in the school library or labs or anywhere else!
But thanks to that doctrine, we now have an accumulation of wisdom here.
But thanks to that doctrine, we now have a cluster of wisdom here, and her black hair is moving to its fullest, Fialato La Volgograd. Her distantly glowing eyes, her rhythmic toes, and her bouncing bosom show how in a good mood she is.
But even so, isn't she a little overexcited? At least, she didn't behave like this when Fialaat visited this place in the past. No, of course not, the current girlfriend and the former girlfriend. Of course, there is an age difference between her now and her former self.
"Don't be so excited like a butterfly that found a cabbage patch, and do what you have to do to make yourself presentable, employer.
You don't know anything about style, do you? Be firm, yet natural. That's what the Volgograd family teaches. So be happy when you need to be happy.
I've never heard that one before.
The resolute attitude certainly came to mind from my previous travels. Nature, just the way it is, natural. Well, no matter how hard I try, it's not going to be the same as the Fearless I have inside. In fact, the girl in front of me, stepping merrily, is of course still a shadow of her former self, but there is something fundamentally different about her.
I wonder if something happened to her from this time to the journey of salvation that made her change her view of life.
Somehow, I took a quick breath and stood up.
"Oh, you can read formal script as well as provincial script?
"I'm sorry. I've got a lot of work to do.
I've got a lot of work to do," he said, rolling his fingers around the side of his head and cowering proudly. I can't tell you that I learned it from Alueno on my journey to salvation, because that would be uncool. Until then, of course, I could only use the broken letters and symbols of the countryside.
I look at the spine of the book and move my gaze slowly. Owning a luxury item like a book is like owning a piece of property. The sight of countless rows of them is breathtaking. It would be a great fortune if I had the right connections, but that's just not in the cards for me.
To sell a luxury item like a book, you need to have a certain prestige and tradition. If a rat like me had a lot of books, I'd be underestimated or assumed to be a fraud.
Sighing inwardly, I stroked my chin and pocketed the small items that might be worth some money.
It may or may not look familiar. I'm sure there's a lot of money to be made here, including that. For a little guy like me, this would be more suitable than a book. I saw something similar to chewing tobacco, so I put it in my mouth, but it smelled terrible, nothing like it.
It's amazing. This is really great, like a dream. No, it's a dream! I wonder what's over here!
I wonder what's over here!" came Fialaat's voice.
Oh, I believe that's the main chapel, he replied, pointing to the door. The space was large enough to hold dozens of people, and it didn't seem like it was built underground.
In the past, when we had visited, there had been bones, blood, swords and armor scattered about. This was the last stronghold of the Old Ones, the heralds, and they had died here in secret when they learned of their defeat during the Gospel Wars, Fialaert guessed. There was also the corpse of a woman who had probably been beautiful in life, and I couldn't help but say a prayer there.
The Gospel Wars. Also known as the Great Revolt of the Old Ones. As if in unison, the oppressed Old Ones raised the beacon of war and dragged the surrounding countries into chaos.
While it was still good for countries like the Kingdom of Garlist that were united in the Great Holiness, there were many countries that fell into civil war as the Old and Great Holiness argued with each other. In addition, because it was called the Great Rebellion, its influence was not small, and in fact, Garou Amalia, which had reigned as an ironclad fortified city until now, fell once due to attacks from within and without by the Old Ones.
However, although it left a big scar in the history, the momentum was not so strong. The Old Ones, who continued to be strategically defeated despite local victories, chose to end up dying themselves in this underground temple in the end.
To be honest, the wreckage is not very pleasant to look at. As I thought about it, something crossed my mind. No, wait. Am I overlooking something important?
Yes, yes. It's as if I've got the perimeter down, but I'm missing the heart of the matter. Like we're forgetting something rudimentary.
Fialaat muttered, put his hand on the door, and with his overflowing curiosity, opened it with great force.
--On the other side of the door, there was a group of cathedral knights with dull, shiny spear points and dozens of eyes staring at him with hostility.
Fialat's face instantly froze and turned pale. I could feel the fear creeping up from behind my heels.
A voice echoed beautifully in the great hall of the chapel, striking my ear.
I had heard that there had been some intruders, but I hadn't expected them to reach this far.
It was a beautiful woman. She had a voice that echoed around her, and a face that was both majestic and pure. Her eyes were as pure as they could be and as mad as they could be.
"To not only offend our faith, but to trample on the wisdom of the sept with your muddy boots-- what a crime, what an insult! Yes, I command you. Seize him and tear him to pieces. Cornerstone of our intellect!
Oh, yes. No, you don't. How the hell did I let my head get so cloudy?
I'm sure I had it in mind when I came to Garouamalia. I was definitely on the lookout for this. And yet, after only a few successful attempts to separate Fialat from Held Stanley, we're screwed. Oh, what an idiot I am.
"No, because the Old Ones left east of here a long time ago. ......?
The armored men caught Fialaat's arms as he twisted his words with trembling lips.
They are unmistakable. They're unmistakably the Knights of the Order of the Crest, the pride of the Old Ones. And the one giving the orders is probably the woman who was revered as a saint in the Gospel Wars. The woman who started it all and painted it all in fresh blood.
Oh, you idiot. I'm an idiot.
--The Gospel War is not over yet. It hasn't even started.