Chapter 68
The Weight of Faith
The wooden door of the private prayer chamber creaked softly as Alex slowly pushed it open. Warm light from dozens of candles spilled into the hallway, mixing with the sweet, calming scent of incense that drifted through the grand cathedral like a gentle prayer. The flickering flames painted long, dancing shadows across the smooth marble floor, turning the ancient stones into a sea of soft gold and gentle crimson.
But the moment Alex stepped outside, he stopped.
Standing directly before the door was an old man.
Not just any old man.
His presence filled the entire hallway with a quiet, steady authority, like an ancient tree that had stood tall through countless storms and still offered shade to anyone who needed it. He wore long white robes stitched with threads of pure gold that shimmered faintly under the candlelight. His silver hair fell neatly over his shoulders, and his calm blue eyes carried the gentle weight of decades spent guiding souls.
This man was the highest authority of the entire Holy Church.
The current Pope.
Pope Lucian Veridion.
The old man looked at Alex carefully, his wise eyes softening with deep recognition. Then something beautiful and unexpected happened.
Without hesitation, Pope Lucian slowly stepped forward… and knelt.
The leader of the entire Holy Church bent one knee before the young prince. He gently took Alex's hand in his wrinkled fingers and kissed it with quiet respect, as if greeting a long-awaited light in the darkness.
"So you have finally arrived," the old man said softly, his voice warm and full of quiet hope. "The chosen one. The one who will guide this wounded world back toward the light."
Alex blinked slightly, surprised by the deep sincerity in the Pope's voice. For a moment he simply stared at the old man kneeling before him. Then he sighed gently, the sound soft in the quiet hall.
"Well… at least someone here understands what's going on."
His tone was calm and kind. "Stand up, Your Holiness."
The Pope rose immediately, his movements slow but full of quiet dignity.
Alex studied him for a brief moment. The old man's eyes held no greed, only exhaustion and a deep, honest desire to protect the people he had served for so many years.
"Prepare another room," Alex said gently. "We need to talk."
The Pope nodded without hesitation. "As you wish, Prince Alex."
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A short while later they sat together in a quiet chamber deep within the cathedral.
Tall stained-glass windows painted the stone floor with gentle colors of gold, crimson, and soft blue as sunlight streamed through them like blessings from above. Shelves lined the walls, filled with ancient holy texts bound in soft leather and glowing faintly with protective magic. Between them stood a small wooden table with a single lantern glowing warmly in the center, its light dancing like friendly fireflies. The air smelled of old books, sweet incense, and the faint freshness of polished marble.
The Pope sat first, his robes settling around him like a soft cloud.
Then Alex took the seat opposite him.
For a long, peaceful moment neither spoke. The only sound was the gentle flicker of the lantern and the distant, soothing chant of priests somewhere far away in the halls.
Finally Alex broke the silence, his voice calm and steady.
"Well, Pope Lucian."
"You already know who I am."
The Pope nodded slowly, his blue eyes full of quiet respect. "Yes. The moment you entered the cathedral… I felt it. The divine light surrounding you, warm and strong like the first sunrise after the longest night."
He looked directly at Alex, his voice trembling with awe. "You are the Apostle of the Goddess of Light."
Alex leaned back slightly, resting one elbow on the table. A small, kind smile touched his lips. "Well. That makes things easier."
He studied the old man carefully. "But let me ask you something."
The Pope listened with his whole heart, leaning forward just a little.
"What if I told you that the future of the Church does not depend on just one Apostle?"
Lucian's eyes narrowed slightly in gentle surprise. "…What do you mean?"
Alex's voice remained calm and honest. "There are three Apostles chosen by the goddesses."
The Pope froze, his wrinkled hands tightening on the edge of the table.
"Three…?"
Alex shrugged lightly, his golden eyes warm but serious. "Maybe. Maybe not."
He smiled faintly, like a friend sharing a quiet secret. "Let's say I happen to know more than most people."
The Pope leaned forward, his voice full of quiet urgency. "If that is true… where are the other Apostles?"
Alex simply looked at him, his expression steady and kind.
"I never said I would tell you."
The Pope fell silent, the weight of the words settling over him like a heavy yet gentle blanket.
Alex continued calmly, his voice filled with quiet strength.
"Think carefully. If those Apostles were to leave the Holy City… and instead stand beside the Ether Empire… how much influence do you think the Church would have left?"
The words struck the Pope like a soft thunderclap.
Faith.
Authority.
Power.
The Church's last connection to the goddesses depended entirely on Apostles and Saints. If they vanished… the Church would lose its light overnight. Millions of prayers would go unanswered. Hope would fade like morning mist beneath the rising sun.
Lucian's expression turned pale, yet there was no anger in his eyes — only deep, aching sadness.
"…You would not abandon the Holy City."
His voice was quiet, almost pleading.
"Would you… Prince Alex?"
Alex sighed softly, looking around the beautiful chamber with its glowing windows and ancient books. The cathedral truly was a place of wonder, a sanctuary built with devotion over countless generations. Yet even here he could feel the shadows of greed hiding in its quiet corners.
"Well, I might," he said gently.
"The Holy City is rotting from within."
"Corruption spreads through the Church like dark vines choking a once-beautiful garden."
"How can Apostles remain in a place that has forgotten what true faith actually means?"
The Pope closed his eyes for a long moment.
When he opened them again, he looked like a man carrying the heavy sins of an entire institution upon his weary shoulders.
"…You are right," he whispered.
"I am old."
"My strength fades with each passing year."
"The Archbishops control most of the Church now."
"I tried to guide them."
"I tried to correct them."
"But power is a poison that twists even the kindest hearts."
He looked back up at Alex, his blue eyes filled with honest pain.
"And I failed."
The room fell into a gentle, thoughtful silence.
The lantern light danced softly between them, casting warm glows across the ancient texts and the old man's tired face.
Then the Pope bowed his head deeply, his silver hair catching the lantern light like threads of moonlight.
"Prince Alex."
His voice trembled with quiet desperation.
"I will give you my authority."
"My power."
"My full support."
He lifted his gaze again, his eyes shining with sincere hope.
"But please… do not abandon the Holy City."
"Millions of people live here."
"Children who still believe with pure hearts."
"Families who still pray with sincere love."
"If the Church collapses…"
"…their hope will die with it."
Alex studied the old man carefully.
There was no greed in those eyes.
Only exhaustion.
Only responsibility.
Only the quiet desperation of a man who had spent his entire life trying to protect the innocent.
Alex exhaled slowly, his golden eyes softening with understanding.
"Well… this old man is honest."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice warm and steady.
"Alright."
"If you help me remove the corruption from the Holy City…"
"And give me the authority to act…"
"Then I will help you."
The Pope hesitated.
Giving real authority to a prince of the empire was not a small decision. It could shift the balance of power within the entire continent.
But after a long, thoughtful moment, he nodded with quiet resolve.
"…Very well."
"I accept."
Alex stood up from his chair, a small, determined smile appearing on his face.
The lantern light seemed to glow a little brighter around him, as if the light itself approved of the decision that had just been made.
"Well then."
"Let's begin."
The Pope frowned slightly, confusion mixing with hope in his tired eyes.
"Begin what, Your Highness?"
Alex walked toward the door, his steps steady and filled with quiet purpose.
His golden eyes shone coldly in the candlelight, like distant stars guiding the coming dawn.
"Let's kill an Archbishop."
"And start cleaning the Holy City."
The door opened slowly.
Beyond it waited the deep night of the city — dark, restless, and full of hidden secrets.
But Alex stepped forward without hesitation.
The light of three goddesses burned steadily within his heart, and the weight of faith felt lighter now that he was no longer carrying it alone.
The long work of cleansing the Holy City had begun.
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