They endured the tense silence for thirty minutes before a decisive knock echoed from the carriage door, marking the moment of entry.
"One of the Twelve will see you now."
Dia'Tia and Elinea descended from the carriage, stepping through the pearly gates of the sanctuary. Their guide was a formidable sentinel clad in resplendent gold and white armor, a vivid blue half-cloak cascading from his legplates, symbolizing his mastery of Water Magic.
He was not alone in his display. As they proceeded toward the majestic cathedral, they encountered numerous knights, each adorned with differently colored fabrics that indicated their elemental powers.
Yet, these armored figures were not the sole inhabitants of these sacred grounds. Lining the main path were various buildings where priests and nuns busied themselves with their daily tasks.
These were no ordinary clerics like those found in village churches.
Nearly all of them exuded the spiritual pressure of the Ascended Stage, while even the less potent among them had clearly transcended to the Transcendent Stage.
"It's clear now why the gatekeepers were indifferent to our titles," Elinea whispered in awe. "They have the might to overthrow the capital in a single night..."
"Not just the capital," Dia'Tia murmured. "They could dominate the entire continent."
"If they possess such overwhelming power, then how did they fail to avert her death?"
It was an enigma. If Arshara represented the pinnacle of cultivation, a figure whose very presence held global conflict at bay, how could she be slain while commanding an army of such warriors? And if her goal was unification, why align with the Royal Family when this Order could have seized power outright?
"Maybe," Dia'Tia whispered, "that's exactly what we're about to discover."
The guardian of these mysteries wasted no time. Striding confidently along the sun-drenched path was a captivating woman clad in pristine white robes. Her hair cascaded to her waist, a fiery red reminiscent of a volcano's core.
"Peak Immortal Stage..." Elinea gasped, awed by the woman's majestic and powerful presence.
Stopping before them, the woman acknowledged the golden sentinel with a slight nod. "I'll handle it from here."
"As you wish, Sister Klarineht."
Dia'Tia's warrior instincts flared up, her fists clenching so tightly her knuckles turned pale. She had left the eastern lands to confront the ultimate challenge—Arshara herself. Now, standing before one of the Twelve who had battled alongside the legend, a fierce desire to test her mettle surged within her.
She took a deep, steadying breath, suppressing the urge to fight. Focus. There's a bigger mission today.
With a respectful bow, the sentinel departed, the clinking of his armor gradually fading away. Klarineht motioned for them to follow, guiding them toward the imposing sanctuary ahead.
"May I ask something?" Elinea ventured.
"Speak freely, young one."
Elinea glanced at the courtyards, watching as several Ascended priests and nuns laboriously drew buckets of water from stone wells. "Your Order includes masters of Water Magic. Why rely on wells when you can summon water from thin air?" She then glanced at a nearby field. "And those who reach the Ascended Realm no longer need earthly food..."
"If we lose touch with the experiences of common people, our Order might drift too far from their hearts before we even notice," Klarineht explained.
"If you truly wish to connect with the commoners, why build a wall that completely separates you from them?" Elinea asked, eyeing the imposing barrier that isolated the Order from the capital.
"We are separated in the same way the heavens are from the earth. If there is no reward for our struggles, why would mortals strive to be good?"
"Is it not sacrilegious to compare yourselves to the heavens?" Elinea challenged.
"You come from the North, do you not?"
"We do."
"Then on your long journey here, did you not stop to rest?"
"If you don't want to lose your horse, you naturally have to find a place to recover."
"Exactly. When the mortal journey is long and arduous," Klarineht replied, her voice unwavering, "the soul needs a sanctuary to rest before stepping back onto the path."
Elinea paused, recognizing the profound truth in the woman's words. It was a concept she could relate to deeply. In the military, ranks weren't just empty titles. A general wasn't simply a figurehead to mourn when death arrived; their very presence could bolster the morale of an army, turning the tide of a battle that might otherwise be lost.
Elinea cast her eyes over the sacred grounds. If this Order was the spiritual equivalent of a Grand General, a novice might initially feel daunted by such an imposing, unreachable peak. Yet no true soldier looks at a general and despairs. They look at them and believe that one day, they too can stand at that summit—or even surpass it.
"A stepping stone to the heavens..." Elinea whispered in realization.
Klarineht's lips curled into a smile.
Time seemed to slip away, and before they knew it, they were standing before the towering main doors of the cathedral. The stained glass windows stretched across the grand structure, silently narrating an ancient tale: a woman uncovering a forgotten tomb, a man awakening from his slumber, and an epic battle erupting. They clashed fiercely across the cosmos until the final scene depicted them united, holding hands, gazing at a nascent planet.
"What do these images mean?" Dia'Tia inquired, her eyes following the intricate glasswork.
"They depict the birth of our world."
With a firm push, Klarineht swung the doors open. Instantly, a torrent of spiritual energy burst forth, like a violent gust of wind, carrying an earth-shattering force that made Elinea instinctively reach for her sword. This was no mere sanctuary; it felt like the volatile cultivation chamber of a hidden master—an entity that had transcended mortal limits and projected its overwhelming presence with absolute, unchecked dominance.
"Who's in there?!" Elinea demanded, her heart pounding.
"Not who, but what," Klarineht corrected, disappearing into the hall's shadows.
Elinea stood frozen, every survival instinct paralyzed by the sheer danger emanating from within.
But Dia'Tia only smiled. She had already faced the Demon King in combat. There was no entity under the heavens she feared to confront. With a bold and determined stride, she crossed the threshold into the great unknown, entering the sacred halls of the continent's most fearsome sect.
At the far end of the hall sat a singular golden altar. A wave of energy pulsed outward from it in rhythmic intervals, so dense it was actually visible to the naked eye. The spiritual pressure was suffocating, making Dia'Tia feel as though she were submerged waist-deep in heavy sand. Each step was harder than the last, requiring her entire strength just to lift her foot forward.
"W-what is the meaning of this?!" she strained through gritted teeth.
As she forced another step forward, the ethereal whisper of an otherworldly woman's voice drifted directly past her ear.
"Unclench your fists... or you will crush it."
"Unclench them?" Dia'Tia stammered, disoriented. "But I hold nothing in my hands!"
"Tell me, Dia'Tia," the voice asked, low and unnervingly steady. "What exists all around us, hidden from sight and beyond touch, yet without it, every step we take loses its meaning?"
With a sharp gasp of air, Dia'Tia violently snapped back to reality.
"What was that?" she breathed, staring down at her trembling hands. It was no longer the unmarked palm she once knew. A sudden, glowing red mark was deeply etched across her skin.
She rubbed it frantically, but the mark had become a part of her. It would never go away.