Chapter 233: Religious War [9]

Outside the muted space, Roy stood on the tiled rooftop of the administrative pavilion, his hands still casually tucked into the pockets of his obsidian trench coat.

Suddenly, his eyebrows furrowed tightly into a sharp line.

Through his divine connection with Duchess Alisa, Roy was observing every fraction of a second inside the ruined chamber.

He watched as High Priest Arnold’s broken, bloody body began to radiate that unstable, blinding golden light.

The terrifying heat melting the very air was not mere mortal mana, nor was it a simple self-destruction technique.

It was Divine Essence.

It was the raw, unadulterated power of a true god seeping across the plane, directly bestowed upon a mortal avatar to trigger an unnatural awakening.

“So… that is how you want to play, Makane,” Roy whispered softly into the night, his dark eyes flickering with a cold, golden-crimson light.

Roy raised his head slowly, his gaze piercing through the heavy clouds covering the night sky, staring directly up toward the distant, divine realm beyond the mortal firmament.

A subtle, dangerous smirk curled the corner of his lips.

“If a god insists on writing the script for his own puppet…” Roy murmured, his voice fading into the cold mountain wind, “then I guess I’ll honor you by playing my part to perfection.”

Few Hours Ago — Sun Heaven Realm.

High above the mortal world, within the brilliant, blinding expanse of the Sun Heaven, a magnificent white-and-gold pavilion rested atop a floating island of crystallized light.

Makane, the God of the Sky, stood near the marble edge of the pavilion, his long, luminous robes trailing serenely behind him.

His radiant golden eyes stared down through the sea of clouds, observing the distant, microscopic thread of fate tied to his devout follower, High Priest Arnold.

Makane let out a quiet, heavy sigh.

“Directly disrupting the flow of the mortal world is a serious matter, Makane,” a smooth, shadowy voice echoed from behind him.

Makane did not jump.

He slowly turned around to face his guest.

Standing beneath the high marble arches was the Unshadowed God—a divine entity shrouded in an ever-shifting, boundary-less form of soft grey light and deep spatial distortions.

Among all the high deities residing within the divine pantheons, the Unshadowed God was the only one Makane had confided in regarding his plight, his frustrations, and his growing paranoia concerning the sudden rise of the Church of the God of Beast.

Makane offered a gentle, reassuring smile, gesturing for his peer to step closer to the pavilion.

“Calm yourself, my friend,” Makane spoke smoothly, his voice carrying a warm, melodic resonance that could soothe a raging storm.

“I am not descending into the mortal plane. Such an action would violate the ancient covenant and draw the eyes of the higher council.

I am merely preparing to trigger a phenomenal event—a divine miracle that will grant my faithful followers the edge they require to utterly crush the Church of the God of Beast.”

The Unshadowed God did not share his optimism.

The shadowy distortions surrounding his form flared slightly with obvious irritation.

“This is a reckless escalation, Makane,” the Unshadowed God warned, his tone grave and sharp. “You are pushing for an all-out, bloody war against the God of Beast, yet we still know virtually nothing about him! We do not understand his true origin, his domain, or how to handle his power. We do not even know his divine tier! And yet, you jump headfirst into open conflict with him?”

The Unshadowed God took a step forward, his voice rising. “To march into battle against an unknown god whose domain touches the primeval beasts is the action of a fool, Makane!”

Despite the harsh reprimand, Makane’s calm demeanor did not shatter for even a single second.

His smile remained intact, serene and absolute, as he folded his hands smoothly inside his radiant sleeves.

“You see it as a foolish risk… but I see it as a necessary strategy,” Makane replied softly, his golden eyes sparkling with calculated ambition. “This entire conflict is my grand design to drag him into the light. By pushing his followers to the brink, I will force the God of Beast to reveal his true hand. I will see his strength, gauge his tier, and understand what kind of entity we are truly dealing with.”

Makane turned back toward the edge of the pavilion, looking down at the vast, endless sea of clouds hiding the mortal realm below.

“And besides…” Makane added, his voice dropping into a deep, absolute confidence. “It matters little what divine tier the God of Beast claims to possess. As long as I am a senior, recognized member of the Sun Pantheon, supported by our grand divine authority… no newly risen god, no matter how wild, will lightly seek an all-out divine war against me.”

Makane raised his hand, letting a tiny drop of pure, golden divine essence float off his fingertip and descend through the clouds toward the mortal plane.

“You must know Ra’s plan still stands, it’s only time before the entirety of existence is unified under Ra’s dominion” Makane clenched his fist.

“A few thousand mortal lives, a few destroyed cities… it is a tiny, negligible price to pay,” Makane murmured smoothly, his smile widening slightly into the quiet void of the Sun Heaven.

“This is all for the greater good of our divine order.

******

The air inside the isolated pocket dimension didn’t just heat up—it cracked like brittle glass under a sudden, incomprehensible atmospheric weight.

Grand Chancellor Manuses, Pope Croak, Duchess Eurenia, and Duchess Alisa all reacted in unison.

Driven by the instinctual warning flashing through their minds, the four Dukes and Duchesses instantly leapt backward, creating thirty paces of distance as a violent, shockwave-inducing aura swept across the shattered stone floor.

“Fall back!” Manuses barked, his usual arrogant sneer disappearing into a stern, watchful glare.

At the center of the ruined chamber, High Priest Arnold threw his head back toward the ceiling and unleashed a deafening, inhuman roar.

ROAAAAAAAR!

The sheer acoustic pressure of the scream vibrated through the stone, causing the thick support pillars to fracture and dust to rain down in thick gray curtains.

The air trembled so violently that visible ripples of distortion radiated outward from his chest in expanding rings.

BOOM!

A blinding, tempestuous violet light erupted from Arnold’s body, swallowing him whole in a pillar of scorching, divine essence.

The holy white-and-gold vestments he wore—the pristine robes of a high cleric—were instantly incinerated into ash.

The violent violet flames peeled away the fabric to reveal an entirely transformed physique.

Arnold’s once slender, polite frame had expanded into an extraordinarily masculine, towering form carved from solid muscle, his veins bulging with glowing purple mana.

Sweat evaporated off his bare torso the millisecond it formed.

Dressed only in his scorched black trousers, Arnold slowly rose off the shattered floorboards, hovering five feet in the air as wild, unchecked violet lightning arced off his shoulders and struck the surrounding walls.

His blue eyes were completely gone, replaced by twin orbs of pure, blinding violet radiance.

“Heretics…” Arnold’s voice no longer sounded like that of a mortal cleric. It carried a layered, thunderous resonance—a divine echo bleeding directly through the veil from the heavens.

“You dare stand against the holy light? You dare question the absolute will of the Sky?”

Manuses narrowed his golden eyes, adjusting his stance as his claws extended slightly. “He didn’t just sacrifice his lifespan… he’s acting as a direct vessel.”

“A vessel for a God?” Eurenia asked.

“No” Manuses shook his head, “We would already be dead if a god descends, I believe it is something else, something dangerous….”

Pope Croak’s narrow eyes glinted with dark intrigue, his fingers twitching beneath his sleeves.

“A divine descent proxy. A temporary miracle bestowed by his god to turn the tides.”

Floating in mid-air, brimmed with insane, crackling violet essence, the transformed High Priest looked down at the four beast commanders with absolute, unadulterated disdain.

The mortal panic he had felt just moments prior had completely vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, psychotic urge to purge every heretical soul in the Northern Hashian Mountains.