Chapter 870

【 IGNORANCE, APATHY AND JUDGEMENT 】

January 1, 1073, of the Eternal Era. The first day of the new year.

In the northern part of the continent, the Maniya Highlands, home to the Empire’s Holy City, had also welcomed the first snowfall of winter.

The sky was overcast, and large snowflakes drifted lazily down from above, making the weather gloomy and bitterly cold.

However, the imperial capital was unusually lively today.

At the very center of the city stood the Central Square.

This enormous plaza, covering an area of more than two million square meters, was situated at the intersection of the Eternal Church’s main cathedral, the Imperial Palace, and the Graycastle Parliament Building.

By now, it had already been filled with a sea of people.

The cold and merciless Inquisitorial Knights and the burly city guard soldiers were maintaining order. They roughly kept curious civilians away from the center of the square, where a massive elevated platform had been erected.

The platform was divided into three sections, each furnished with seats and magnificent canopies. Even magical arrays designed to regulate the temperature had been inscribed into the structure.

These were the seats reserved for the high-ranking clergy of the Eternal Church and the rulers of the Empire.

The central section housed the Holy See of His Holiness the Pope, symbolizing the supremacy of divine authority over royal power.

The right section was reserved for the imperial family. Seated there were Princess Theresa, the fourteen-year-old heir to the imperial throne, and other members of the royal family, including descendants of former imperial families that had once produced emperors.

Bishop Winston, the Lord Regent, was also among them.

Before becoming a monk, this bishop, who held a fief, had himself been a member of the Tress family, the current imperial dynasty.

On the left sat Duke Corens, the Elector and Speaker of the Nobility, alongside other great nobles and archbishops involved in the administration of the Empire.

These people were the most powerful figures in the entire Holy Maniya Empire. They were also among the most powerful individuals on the entire continent.

The current pope of the Eternal Church, Benedict II, was a kindly old man.

His hair and beard were completely white, and his back was hunched. His magnificent yet solemn papal robes made him appear both sacred and imposing.

He was already extremely old. His hunched figure beneath those voluminous robes gave the impression that he might collapse at any moment, as though a mere gust of wind could topple him.

Nevertheless, no one dared to underestimate the seemingly frail old pope.

Although he was nearly three hundred years old and had long approached the limits of a mortal’s lifespan, he received the divine favor of the Eternal Lord. As such, he commanded even the respect of demigods for being a powerful individual capable of summoning divine power and invoking divine descent.

Benedict II was also the longest-reigning pope in the history of the Eternal Church. To this day, he had occupied the Holy See for eighty-three years.

Below the elevated platform, the citizens curiously examined the powerful figures seated above them.

Although the archbishops and great nobles who governed the Church and the Empire were household names, this was still the first time most ordinary people had ever seen them in person.

This was especially true of His Holiness the Pope, who appeared in public only during major celebrations, and Princess Theresa, who had only recently and somewhat bewilderingly been formally confirmed as the heir to the imperial throne.

The delicate young girl had just turned fourteen. With golden hair and emerald-green eyes, she was as noble and beautiful as any other aristocratic young lady. Even at her tender age, it was already apparent that she would grow into a breathtaking beauty in the future .

Currently she was sitting quietly in her seat, her large, sparkling eyes excitedly surveying her surroundings. Her gaze was innocent and clear, suggesting that she found such a grand occasion fascinating.

However, when her eyes met the stern gaze of Bishop Winston, the Lord Regent seated beside her, and the gentle smile of Duke Corens, the Speaker of the Nobility across from her, she quickly straightened her posture and sat properly.

She looked like an obedient young girl who was also a little intimidated by those around her.

Even so, she could not help sneaking occasional glances at her surroundings, particularly at the tall execution frame standing in front of the platform, its surface covered in thorns and barbs.

Her large, spotless eyes, with their distinct black pupils and white sclera, were filled with curiosity. They resembled a blank sheet of paper that had never been stained by the filth of the world.

Several black-robed Inquisitorial Knights stood beside the execution frame. Every one of them possessed an exceptionally powerful aura, far surpassing that of ordinary Gold-ranked experts. Their presence was so intimidating that most commoners dared not look directly at them.

The area surrounding the frame was already heavily guarded by fully armed soldiers. Every one of them was an elite among elites, and they kept the watching civilians firmly at a distance.

When Demacia blended into the crowd and arrived at the square, this was the scene that greeted him.

“Big Brother Dema, are we really not going to cause a scene in the square and rescue Old John?”

Another player standing beside him, his face hidden beneath a hood, asked in a low voice.

Several days earlier, the Eternal Church had announced that Old John would stand on trial. For players who had been closely following developments across the Empire, this news had spread throughout the entire server almost immediately.

To think that the Eternal Church actually dared to put one of the Goddess’s Divine Favored on trial!

Naturally, this had stirred up the players’ collective indignation.

Although the distance was considerable, a substantial number of high-level players had still gathered in Holy Maniya. They had also established contact with the underground forces of the Church of Life within the city to discuss the feasibility of a rescue operation.

Demacia was the strongest among them. He had also previously infiltrated Dororia Castle Prison and recorded Old John’s experiences as a preacher so it was only natural that everyone chose him as their leader.

However, upon hearing his companion’s question, Demacia shook his head slightly and let out a soft sigh.

“Rescue Old John? How? Just look at how many Gold-ranked and Legendary-ranked experts are here. For all we know, there might even be demigods and angels hiding somewhere behind the scenes, watching the show. And you expect us to pull this off with our ragtag bunch?”

“But, Big Brother Dema, don’t you still have that artifact that can summon the Divine Punishment of the Goddess of Death?”

“Yeah, but I can only use it once…”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Nothing! Just watch carefully and follow the plan I gave you earlier!”

“Seriously? Does that mean we’re just going to stand by and watch Old John get burned to death?”

The player speaking with Demacia frowned slightly, clearly displeased.

Demacia remained silent for a moment before letting out another sigh.

“Well, I tried convincing him, but that is what Old John wants to do…”

The player fell silent.

“Even… even if the price is his own death?”

He could not help asking.

“Yes, even if it costs him his life… Well, there are some things that matter more than life itself.”

Demacia spoke with a note of emotion.

Hearing those words, the player opened his mouth and stared at the well-known impulsive daredevil with an expression of disbelief.

Perhaps noticing his companion’s strange look, Demacia turned around, his face darkening.

“Hey, what’s with that expression?”

“Uh… nothing. I just didn’t expect you to say something like that, Big Brother Dema. I’ve always thought you were, well… pretty reckless.”

The player scratched his head.

Demacia: “…”

“What do you mean, reckless?”

“Uh… unconventional? Daring enough to take risks? Or maybe… always pulling off some crazy, high-level stunts?”

Demacia: “…”

Why not just say I’m a daredevil who loves courting death?

He complained inwardly.

Nonetheless, Demacia understood his own personality well enough. He also knew that his companion was not entirely wrong. He was indeed an impulsive person who loved taking risks and courting death.

Although he had been playing Elven Kingdom for a long time, unlike those players who had long since come to regard the game as a second life, he still primarily treated it as a game.

Even so, he could still be moved by what happened within it.

Recalling Old John’s words and actions back in the prison, Demacia’s expression gradually turned solemn.

He had never admired an NPC in Elven Kingdom before.

But now, perhaps there was finally one.

Nevertheless, even now, deep down, he still believed that Old John’s decision to sacrifice himself represented an enormous loss for the Church of Life.

Demacia sighed softly and looked around the square once more.

His gaze passed over the archbishops and great nobles seated on the elevated platform, their luxurious garments and aristocratic bearing radiating wealth and privilege. He then looked at the fully armed guards below, their faces fierce and intimidating.

Finally, his gaze settled on the countless commoners gathered throughout the vicinity. Their faces were sallow, their clothes plain, and many of their garments were patched or even tattered.

They stood in the same square, yet the people above and below the platform seemed to belong in two entirely separate worlds.

And yet, even these commoners gathered here in the square were relatively well-off by the standards of Maniya.

As the capital of the Empire and one of the most prosperous cities in the human controlled territories, the capital city of Maniya offered its inhabitants living conditions that were among the best in human society across the entire continent.

The farmers living in the countryside and the people dwelling in the slums did not even qualify for the privilege of standing here to watch.

At that moment, Demacia truly began to feel the profound divisions running through human society in the world of Seigües.

“The existence of supernatural powers has accelerated the rigid stratification of society. The rapidly rising mana has not dismantled this entrenched social order. Instead, it has even further intensified existing conflicts and created even more contradictions, making an already unstable society increasingly volatile.”

“As it is, human society is already dead and this world needs a new force to breathe life and vitality back into it!”

Without realizing it, Demacia recalled these two statements he had heard Old John make in prison.

Had another player said these things, he would not have found them particularly surprising. But hearing them from an NPC, someone who had embraced the teachings of the Goddess of Life less than a year ago, was genuinely shocking and worthy of respect.

Demacia continued to let his thoughts wander until the piercing toll of a bell rang out from the elevated platform.

A black-robed priest with an impassive expression stepped forward and announced that the heretic who had blasphemed against the human gods and disrupted the order of the Empire was to be brought before the court.

Gradually, a commotion arose among the distant crowds.

A Legendary-rank Sword Saint who had pledged allegiance to the Empire, personally led a squad of fully armed soldiers as they escorted a figure with an upright posture toward the platform.

That figure was none other than Old John.

Upon seeing his condition, Demacia’s expression changed slightly.

There was no other reason for it.

At that very moment, Old John had been stripped of virtually all his clothing. He was bound in anti-magic shackles and left completely naked, with only a few scraps of fabric remaining to preserve the last vestiges of his dignity.

The bloody whip marks that had yet to fade told the story of the brutal torture he had endured before being brought here.

Ordinary prisoners whose powers had been similarly suppressed could not harm him. But the situation was different when his tormentors were the knights and priests of the Inquisition.

Even so, Old John continued to hold his head high, his gaze clear and bright.

He stood like an evergreen pine that would never bend or fall.

The crowd gradually grew restless.

Then, without anyone knowing who had started it, a stone suddenly struck Old John in the face.

Someone laughed.

Then came a second stone, followed by a third.

It was not just stones. Household rubbish and the filth commonly found in the city began raining down from both sides of the crowd, repeatedly striking the man being escorted to the platform.

Amid the commotion, the curses of the spectators could be heard.

“Bah! Heretic! You’re the one disrupting public order!”

“Blasphemer! Die!”

“Hit him! Hit him!”

“Burn him alive!”

“Hahahahaha!”

Watching the indifferent spectators gleefully hurl filth at the prisoner, the players were momentarily stunned.

Demacia also froze for a moment before falling silent.

His gaze swept over Old John, taking in the fact that the man remained completely unfazed.

Yet deep within the eyes of Old John, there seemed to be a trace of sorrow.

That sorrow, however, vanished almost immediately, replaced by an intense light of conviction and faith.

Demacia was momentarily stunned.

His gaze shifted back to the commoners. Seeing the excitement and satisfaction in their eyes, he found himself overwhelmed by complicated emotions.

At that moment, he finally understood, truly and completely, why Old John had made such a choice.

For the vast majority of commoners in these human nations, oppression had lasted for so long that apathy had become ingrained in their very bones.

They had long since forgotten how to resist…

The nobles controlled supernatural power, while the Church controlled public opinion. Together, they manipulated virtually every aspect of these commoners’ lives.

To these people, watching a heretic stand trial was as entertaining as watching the slaughter of a pig during the New Year celebrations in ancient china.

And because they lacked both the courage to resist and the conviction to struggle against their circumstances, they could only vent their emotions by throwing stones at a heretic. Through such acts, they released their frustrations with reality and sought a measure of psychological comfort.

This was a dark age, an age filled with ignorance and superstition, an age of profound apathy.

Even though players and missionaries of the Goddess of Life had already helped kindle a spark of hope, in the end, a spark was still only just that—a spark.

Without a catalyst to ignite it, it would remain impossible to shake this vast, dormant wilderness.

Fortunately, not every commoner was so indifferent. Deep within the crowd, there were still many people whose gazes were filled with complicated emotions, worry, and sorrow as they looked toward Old John.

However, their figures had already been swallowed by the surging masses.

“The weather is so cold. Why haven’t they given him any clothes?”

On the elevated platform, Princess Theresa frowned. After glancing at Old John below, she turned toward Bishop Winston, the Lord Regent, with an expression of discomfort.

Bishop Winston smiled faintly.

“Your Highness, your kindness is truly admirable. However, this is the rightful punishment for a heretic. That man is a blasphemer, an evil individual who threatens the stability of the Empire.”

“A heretic… someone who threatens the stability of the Empire…”

Princess Theresa nodded as though she understood, and a trace of disgust entered her gaze as she looked at Old John.

Meanwhile, the great nobles around her whispered among themselves. Looking down condescendingly at Old John as he was brought before them and bound to the execution frame, they regarded him with arrogance, amusement, and disdain, as though he were nothing more than a performing monkey.

The bell rang once more.

A black-robed priest of the Inquisition stepped forward.

He raised a golden parchment and adopted a solemn expression. His deep, resonant voice, amplified by magic, spread to every corner of the square.

“By the sacred decree of His Holiness the Pope, I hereby announce…”

“The trial of John, a missionary of the Goddess of Life, blasphemer, and heretic, shall now begin!”

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