Novel Full Chapter 1510 Divine Revelation
Chapter 1510 Divine Revelation
The Arch Priestess caught herself on the stone railing, one hand gripping the carved surface hard enough to whiten her knuckles. The golden light behind her flickered like a candle in a draft.
Quinlan glanced at Black Fang. The woman wore a perfect mask, though her katana hadn’t lowered one bit.
“So?” Quinlan called up the steps. “Were you told that the ‘terrible scumbag with the reign of terror’ is actually a pretty decent guy? I’m curious what Lilyanna said about me. Gods know she’s got lots of opinions.”
Velara’s gaze dropped to her staff, still lying where it had fallen at her feet. She stared at it as if she didn’t recognize it. Her hands trembled as she crouched, fingers closing around the shaft with none of the authority she’d held it with moments ago.
She rose slowly. The staff’s gemstone flickered once, dimly, and went still.
When she spoke, her voice was hollow.
“The Goddess has conveyed her will to me directly.”
A breath. Then another. “Her words were these…” Velara’s throat worked. “‘The one who stands before you is known to me. He walks a path I question, yet have chosen not to oppose. His war is against the thrones of men. It is not a war against mankind itself, nor against the divine order, nor against the sanctity of life. He is a conqueror, not a destroyer. I do not sanction his actions, but I do not desire my faithful to fight a holy war against a man who does not warrant one.'”
The words fell from her lips like stones dropped into still water.
Velara’s grip tightened on the staff.
Her jaw worked before the next portion came.
“‘However, his potential concerns me. What he is today and what he may become are vastly different matters. A conqueror of his kind who respects no institution will, in time, become a problem no institution can ignore. The church must not be absent from that future. It must have a seat at the table he is building, whether he intends to offer one or not.'”
Quinlan’s grin faded slightly behind the helmet. That sounded less like a compliment and more like Lilyanna planning three moves ahead on a board he hadn’t realized they were playing on.
Velara drew a shaky breath.
“‘Therefore, I charge you, my herald, with a task worthy of your devotion. You will pursue the path of coexistence between my church and the authority this man is carving for himself. The terms of that coexistence are yours to negotiate. Find a path where my faithful can endure should his conquest over the world succeed, and you will have served me better than any martyrdom ever could.'”
Silence settled over the cathedral steps.
Velara stood with the staff planted at her side, her eyes fixed on a point between Quinlan and Black Fang. Her cheeks were wet. Her hands still trembled.
But the expression on her face wasn’t grief.
It was the bewilderment of a woman whose entire framework for understanding the world had just been rearranged by the one voice she trusted above all others.
The Goddess had not told her to surrender. She had not told her to bow. She had not called Quinlan a good man or a righteous one or anything close to it.
She’d called him a problem worth planning for instead of stubbornly fighting against.
Quinlan stood at the base of the steps with his saber at his side, and said nothing for a long moment.
He realized. ‘She didn’t protect me nor did she favor me. Lilyanna just found a way to turn this into a long-term play for her own church and acted upon it.’
The decree echoed in his mind. Every word chosen with precision. “A conqueror of his kind.” “What he may become.” “A seat at the table he is building, whether he intends to offer one or not.”
She’d already known long before this day that he didn’t care for her authority over the denizens of Thalorind, or he would’ve released all the souls he already stole.
Instead, what she did was decipher his trajectory. In this moment, she wasn’t reacting to the man at level 51 but the future Primordial Villain version at level 74 – and potentially beyond.
The immense threat who could undermine her authority should he continue on his current path.
Thus, she’d placed the seed of negotiation before it ever came to that.
‘Lilyanna…’ Quinlan’s respect for the Goddess deepened in this moment. ‘Not bad.’
He’d called her bratty and a hypocrite. He’d told her to shove her complaints. But behind all of that, behind the bickering and the notepad and the cosmic healing sessions, the woman was capable of strategic thinking, of being a player.
Coexistence wasn’t a concession. It was an investment. If Velara struck a deal here, it would set a precedent. Every Arch Priest in every city Quinlan conquered after this one would point to Whisperfield and say, ‘the Goddess herself decreed that negotiation was the path.’ The church wouldn’t fight him every step of the way, wouldn’t end their own existence by attacking the future him with blind faith. It would instead embed itself in his rule, cathedral by cathedral, city by city, until the Goddess’s influence was woven deeply into his empire.
She’d turned his great ambitions, his desire for conquest into her expansion strategy. A way for her grasp on the world of Thalorind to remain as tight as before he came.
It was a win-win situation. Should he fall short and die early, the church will still be there. Should he succeed and conquer, the church will still be there.
‘I’ll need to be careful,’ he mused.
He looked up at Velara.
“Did she say anything else?”
Velara stared at him. Her lip curled.
“Her final words were, ‘The insufferable brat will no doubt be just that upon hearing this decree. Obnoxious. Arrogant. Infuriating beyond measure. You must remain strong, my herald. Endure his terrible attitude for the greater good.'”
Quinlan’s smirk turned wry.
He tilted his head back and looked up.
“Thanks, Bratty Goddess. Love you too.”
The silence that followed was the kind that preceded violence.
Velara’s face went through several colors in rapid succession. The staff in her hands shook, and this time it had nothing to do with emotional fragility.
“You… you dare address the Goddess with such flippancy?! After everything she has done for you, after the mercy she has shown, you look at the heavens and speak to her like she’s some tavern wench you’re courting?!”
Black Fang drew her katana.
Quinlan raised a hand toward Black Fang without looking at her, signaling patience.
Then he turned back to Velara and tilted his head.
“Didn’t the Goddess just tell you to remain strong and endure me for the greater good?” He scratched the back of his helmet. “And yet here you are, screaming at the man you’re supposed to be negotiating with.”
Velara’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
Nothing came out.
“I don’t know~” Quinlan mused, looking sideways as if the whole affair had grown tiresome. “I’m not really feeling like negotiating with you anymore. You’re too loud and annoying. The Goddess’ limitless hypocrisy is oozing from you.” He waved a hand lazily. “Maybe I’ll just skip the coexistence part and do this the old-fashioned way. Conqueror style.”
The color drained from Velara’s face.