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In the Church Nation of Asumos, beneath the holy city of Vinatia, a group of over a hundred young believers aged between fifteen and twenty gathered in an underground training ground. Led by holy knights, they streamed in continuously, each emanating a strong aura of holy magic.
While their power was insignificant compared to top experts, they were undoubtedly the cream of the crop among their peers. At this moment, these talented youths focused their attention on the platform ahead, their gazes converging in unison.
There stood an unremarkable man, donning a noble archbishop's robe of white and gold, a golden-plumed hat atop his head. His graying hair draped over his shoulders in slight disarray, adding a touch of indolence to his exceedingly ordinary features.
