Chapter 487: The Heresy Trial

A massive crackdown began within the walls of Luan City.

The Intelligence Bureau’s special task force had been wreaking havoc in the outer districts, pushing the city’s chaos and division to a breaking point. In response, the cathedral clergy, faced with slipping control, resorted to their tried-and-true method—

The penitential monks and knights finally dropped all restraint. They began storming into every home, interrogating every citizen, confiscating anything suspected of heresy, and arresting anyone suspected of wavering faith. From Iron Cross Street in the north all the way down to White Pine Avenue in the south, robed clerics and armored knights swept through the outer city like a wave of terror.

As the wave crashed through the streets, unarmed civilians panicked and cowered. The air was filled with the knights’ shouts, the crack of whips, and the cries of the people. When the wave passed, only a deathly silence remained, punctuated by muffled sobs hidden in shadowed corners. On the surface, it seemed as if the wave had leveled everything, but any person with even a shred of insight wandering through Luan City at this moment would notice a disturbing truth:

Among the trembling citizens, the devout followers of the Holy Light God, not a single prayer could be heard anymore.

Yet, tragically, the Holy Light Cathedral was completely blind and deaf to the true state of the outer city. Those in charge had but one goal in mind: to swiftly carry out the heresy trials and bring an end to the spiraling chaos—no matter the cost.

Meanwhile, outside Luan City, in the central region of the southern territory, a large public magic network terminal in the city square projected a vivid holographic image. The recently infamous witch, Jipri, sat within the projection, behind her another dynamic scene unfolded: the chaotic streets of Luan City.

“…Luan City is engulfed in turmoil. The cathedral clergy are arresting innocent citizens across the city… Anyone who disobeys the cathedral’s orders is branded a heretic. Clerics and knights are brutally attacking unarmed civilians…

“Our lord is still trying to communicate with the clergy inside Luan, but the open letters sent into the city were confiscated by the cathedral and publicly burned…

“The Holy Light Church within the city seems to have completely rejected our peace efforts. Generals Philip and Byron led their troops to the outskirts, just kilometers from the city walls, even though they could have destroyed the cathedral at any time. The soldiers have waited in the wilderness for eighty-six days, only to be met with outright hostility and resistance from the cathedral… We must ask: what exactly do the clergy want? We have not fired a single shot, yet you turn to harm your own innocent people?”

As Jipri’s anguished voice echoed, the holographic images flickered through scenes of publicly burned pamphlets and booklets, cruel executions by fire, church soldiers raiding homes and intimidating citizens. The final image showed an enraged, snarling church soldier stomping on a civilian, shouting, “…How dare you hide Cecil’s writings… Who gave you the right to defy the bishop’s orders?!”

All the footage was clearly captured under tense, secretive conditions, often marred by static and interference. The crowd gathered in the square watched in stunned fear, listening as the witch continued, “…This intelligence was smuggled out by messengers trapped inside Luan City, risking their lives with magic. We pray these brave souls survive this disaster…”

“Now, we have with us Mr. Gawain Orlando, esteemed scholar and editor-in-chief of the Cecil Weekly, along with several citizen representatives from Cecil City and Kant City. Together, we will discuss the root causes of Luan City’s chaos and address a question on everyone’s mind: Should we continue waiting for the clergy of the Luan Cathedral to respond rationally? Should we keep hoping for peace from the Holy Light Church? If no reasonable answer comes, do we have the right to take matters into our own hands and establish a new Holy Light order to prevent further desecration of the Light…?”

The crowd in the square grew increasingly agitated as they watched the images loop behind Jipri—scenes of Luan’s current state. The people here were no strangers to the church’s “punishment of heresy.” Most had dealings with priests or church soldiers in daily life and had witnessed the whipping of errant civilians. But the sheer volume and brutality of these acts, presented all at once, struck a nerve deep within every onlooker.

As for the question Jipri raised—whether to establish a new Holy Light order—no one doubted it.

Most hadn’t even considered it before, but if the witch said it, it must be true.

Maybe they hadn’t paid attention, but others had.

If the people of this city weren’t watching, perhaps others elsewhere were.

Citizen representatives were already on the “program,” debating this very issue alongside the southern territory’s most renowned scholar. Clearly, this was a hot topic, one everyone was discussing.

“What are we waiting for? Those clerics have gone mad!”

No one knew who shouted first, but soon others joined in.

“The clergy in Luan won’t open their doors willingly—they’re just puppets of the northern church!” “The civilians in Luan are also Cecilians; we can’t let them suffer!” “Those clerics are insulting the Holy Light! Let our White Knights take over Luan!”

Before the city’s peacekeepers could restore order and urge calm to watch the broadcast, similar calls echoed from every town and city with magic network terminals…

But the cries outside Luan City never reached the cathedral. Inside this “city of the church,” preparations for the heresy trial were nearing completion.

The terrified populace was once again herded into the square, gathered under the oppressive weight of divine magic and steel. In a world where supernatural power was real, the endurance of the common folk was tragically strong. Even now, in this dire situation, there was no sign of rebellion against the knights or clerics. They clustered around the square like silent sheep—submissive and fearful.

Yet, Amber, standing among them, sensed a disturbing undercurrent beneath this silence. It was an invisible, intangible tension, heavy with the cold and oppression that precedes a storm.

This was no ordinary quiet.

Normally, even the most obedient and fearful crowd would stir with murmurs and restless whispers. But now…

It was too quiet. Too still. Silent as if the dead had gathered.

The wooden platform in the center of the square had been erected. The ashes from the last burning had long been swept away, but the faint scent of charred flesh still seemed to linger in the air. Since Luan City’s founding, how many had been burned here? How many had perished for defying the church, for speaking against the bishop, for hiding forbidden texts?

The acrid smell of their burning seemed to seep from the cracks between every stone.

The side gate of the cathedral district opened. First came a group of fully armed church soldiers, followed by a line of clerics clad in coarse gray linen robes, barefoot and bareheaded.

This was the mark of “penance.”

These were the clergy who had secretly hidden pamphlets or whispered criticisms of the bishop. They walked behind the soldiers, flanked by black-robed penitential monks maintaining order. Heads bowed, they reached the edge of the square, stopping closest to the civilians.

Some civilians glanced quickly at the punished clerics, who returned the look with equal curiosity and surprise.

Both sides wore expressions of bewilderment and shock.

Then the cathedral’s main gate swung open. Bishop Flamberon appeared on the square, accompanied by his clergy.

They radiated brilliant holy light. Their white robes were pristine and immaculate. Their steps were steady and vigorous—even now, as food rations dwindled and the outer city’s civilians were half-starved, their faces remained flushed and healthy.

Surrounded by his clergy, Flamberon ascended the platform and furrowed his brow.

The atmosphere unsettled him deeply.

The square was deathly silent… filled with numb, foolish rabble. Yet those who once cowered with bowed heads now regarded him with strange eyes.

Not reverence, but not defiance either. Flamberon couldn’t name it—only that it was like the gaze of the dead, or perhaps the gaze cast upon the dead.

Probably hunger…

Suppressing his unease, Flamberon magnanimously forgave the offense in their eyes. He knew today’s heresy trial was a crucial ritual, and he must endure until it was over.

The scrape of armor came from the side of the square as another group of church soldiers dragged a dozen ragged figures to the platform, binding them to prepared stakes.

Flamberon steadied himself, then addressed the crowd, invoking the Holy Light to carry his voice across the square:

“Children of the Holy Light God—I know the suffering you have endured these days. Truly, my heart aches for you…

“…It is the devil who has tempted and corrupted your friends and family, planting seeds of doubt and division in your minds…”

The square remained utterly silent. No cheers, no protests, not even a murmur.

Such cold, dead silence was unlike anything Flamberon had ever encountered. For a moment, he looked awkward, then a flicker of anger crossed his face.

But his sermon had begun, and he must continue.

So he swallowed his displeasure and summoned the Holy Light with greater force, letting the radiant divine glow swell around him, creating a grand spectacle. At last, this display stirred some movement in the crowd—enough for him to press on:

“…Today, I will expose the devil’s tricks and reveal the shadows lurking in men’s hearts!”

“Those already corrupted by the devil will undoubtedly be exposed and purified, while those untouched by corruption will be fairly judged and set free—I promise everyone, this trial will be just and effective!

“By the holy light of the Lord, His glory and justice shall prevail!”

Flamberon raised his staff high. Normally, after shouting this rousing declaration, he would pause to let the crowd’s thunderous cheers swell around him. But now, he realized such cheers were unlikely. So, without hesitation, he skipped the usual formalities, channeling his full magical power. As he silently reached out to commune with the Holy Light, he unleashed a vast divine spell.

A faint, sacred melody accompanied a hazy white halo that radiated outward from Flamberon’s position.

At the sight of this extraordinary power, the common folk in the square stirred with unease. On the wooden platform ahead, those bound to the pillars widened their eyes, fear and tension etched on their faces as the halo swept over them with an unstoppable force—

Where the halo passed, faint shimmering barriers appeared around the captives. Then those barriers trembled violently, fracturing into countless shadowy cracks that hovered beside and above them, stark and unmistakable.

Flamberon watched with satisfaction. Just as he had predicted, those gripped by fear and self-doubt could never pass the heresy trial.

The halo continued to spread beyond the platform, gradually fading away.

Those standing at the edge of the square tensed as the halo approached. Some quietly stepped back half a pace, careful not to draw attention from the priests above. Yet others stood too close—falling within the halo’s reach.

Flamberon’s eyes widened in surprise. Within the fading divine halo, several bright, steady lights suddenly flared to life.

Could there really be such devout believers among the commoners?

He had only intended to use the lingering divine magic to intimidate the crowd, never expecting to witness a response from the Holy Light itself.

The makeshift bishop stared intently at the spots where the lights appeared. But the next moment, he had no time to wonder what these “devout followers” looked like.

The divine halo, which should have naturally dissipated after reaching its limit, seemed to be growing stronger out of nowhere. The dim glow over the crowd suddenly blazed with extraordinary brightness!

What should have been confined to the “judgment platform” now seemed to resonate with some sacred relic, recharged with energy, and began spreading rapidly across the entire square.

Flamberon stared in shock, a sudden realization dawning in his mind—oh no, this is bad.

(End of chapter)