"What's going on?" The old Duke stood up in a panic, leaning heavily on his cane. "Has the demon arrived?"
Ianna whipped her head around and glared at him with a piercing look, barking sharply, "Silence!"
She then signaled to Nenneke and Lysa with her eyes.
The two stepped forward to the northern wall of the hall, where a relief of a sacred icon was carved. They clasped their hands together, bowed their heads, and began chanting solemnly:
"Praise the Mother of All, the goddess of fertility, harvest, and childbirth, the eternal Maiden, Mother, and Crone, protector of women and life…"
Before their hymn concluded, an invisible force seemed to manifest throughout the hall, as if walls unseen by mortal eyes had arisen.
The voices of the two priestesses overlapped, forming countless layers of pure and sacred echoes.
Faced with such a phenomenon, no one dared to remain calmly seated anymore.
Tissaia de Vries, her flawless face betraying a rare moment of shock, couldn't suppress her reaction.
She froze for a moment, then swiftly dispelled the faint purple magical barrier surrounding her. Gesturing to the bewildered but still orderly sorceresses by her side, she straightened her posture, smoothed her already unwrinkled robes, and approached the priestesses. With a solemn expression, she placed her right hand over her heart.
Melitele was the protector of all women.
Did that include sorceresses?
Of course.
Though the influence of Melitele's temple had waned in recent years due to the retreat of the gods, there was a time when no woman in the Northern Realms lived without the blessings of the Great Mother.
From midwives who presided at birth, orphanage caretakers, healers in times of injury or illness, to sanctuaries offering refuge in old age, Melitele's influence was all-encompassing.
Even today, the equal footing that sorceresses held with male mages owed much to the Great Mother's guidance.
The other sorceresses, their reactions varied—some were puzzled, others enlightened, while many displayed pious excitement. Yet, in the face of such divine manifestations, they exchanged glances and then followed Tissaia's lead. Together, they echoed the chant:
"Praise the Mother of All, the goddess of fertility, harvest, and childbirth, the eternal Maiden, Mother, and Crone, protector of women and life…"
In that instant, the layered prayers surged with intensity, their volume magnified severalfold.
The flames of the candles abruptly turned golden, their brilliance casting the entire hall in an otherworldly glow, as if gilded by divine hands.
"Whoosh~"
A pillar of blazing white light descended from above, striking the sacred statue of Melitele.
The plain stone effigy, with its kind features, suddenly came to life, exuding an aura of solemn divinity.
It seemed to cast its gaze across the hall, the overwhelming majesty of a being beyond mortality pressing all present to instinctively bow their heads.
The goddess did not speak. Instead, she extended a hand and pointed, a golden ray shooting forth and landing on Ianna.
The hunch in the Archpriestess of Melitele's back straightened immediately, her form becoming upright and commanding.
"Exorcism…"
A dazzling golden light flared, forcing everyone to shut their eyes.
When they reopened them…
The statue of Melitele appeared as it always had—kind and humble, its surface weathered by time.
The hall was silent and empty, save for the ethereal echoes of a sacred hymn, as though the divine song still lingered in the air.
The priestesses and sorceresses remained bowed, heads low, until the echo faded entirely. Only then did whispers fill the hall.
"Was that…was that truly the goddess?"
"It seemed so…"
"An exorcism… Did she bestow her blessing for this battle?"
These murmurs came from the astonished sorceresses.
"Oh, heavens… Arthur, what did I just say?" exclaimed the old Duke, his face a mask of terror.
Arthur wisely refrained from answering.
The Duke's outburst had drawn the disapproving gazes of every woman in the hall, though he remained oblivious. Instead, when he glanced at Arthur, his gaze landed on Ianna.
"I…Ianna, your…your face…" His voice trembled with disbelief.
Only then did the others notice.
The Archpriestess, once stooped with age, now stood tall and dignified.
The deep wrinkles etched by time on her face had vanished, leaving her skin smooth and youthful. Though her eyes remained profoundly aged and wise, they contrasted sharply with her rejuvenated appearance.
Ianna now rivaled any sorceress present in beauty.
However, her otherworldly air of sanctity and transcendence placed her beyond mortal comparison.
Gasps of astonishment erupted across the hall.
"It's merely a side effect of the divine blessing," Ianna said calmly, as though already aware of the changes. "The goddess has granted me the power to combat the dark god…"
After briefly explaining, she turned with a complex expression.
Everyone followed her gaze and gasped again.
The traces of the goddess's descent had not entirely faded.
Vesemir stood dumbfounded, staring at his hands, where four amulets hovered a few inches above his palms.
The amulets emanated a powerful, sacred aura, their golden light dazzling.
It seemed as though this sight had been arranged specifically for witnesses, for as soon as everyone turned to see, the golden glow dimmed.
The amulets gently landed in Vesemir's hands.
Ianna glanced at the amulets, then turned to the young priestess desperately trying to hide behind Nenneke. Suddenly, she asked:
"Where is Allen?"
"The sanctum," Vesemir replied reflexively, still stunned.
The next moment—
"Bang!"
The doors to the hall burst open.
A young priestess dashed in, shouting, "Archpriestess! A miracle! A miracle!"
"Where?" Ianna demanded.
"The sanctum," the breathless priestess stammered. "A pillar of golden light shot into the sky. Many saw it…"
In an instant, all eyes turned to Vesemir. Among them was Tissaia de Vries, her gaze sharp and probing, like a tangible force pressing him against the wall.
Vesemir hadn't expected to become the center of attention simply by observing the exorcism process. Yet now, he stood as the "main character" of the hall—a role he had no desire to play.
The true "main character," however…
"By Melitele's grace!"
"Damn it, Allen, what have you done this time?"
Feeling the overwhelming mental disturbance crashing through his thoughts like an avalanche, Vesemir silently cursed.
"Enough!" Ianna cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention.
She addressed the priestess, who seemed unaware of the hall's prior events. "Talia, step outside for now. That was indeed the goddess's miracle, but for now, ensure no one approaches the sanctum."
"Yes, Archpriestess." Talia quietly closed the door behind her.
"Let us return to the matter of leading the fight against the demon…"
Before Ianna could finish, Tissaia de Vries, after glancing meaningfully at the amulets in Vesemir's hand and Ianna's flawless face, interjected:
"No need for further discussion!" She shook her head lightly.
With Melitele's descent and divine decree, the temple now held undeniable authority over the mission.
Tissaia was not displeased with this turn of events.
Seizing command had merely been a means to ensure Aretuza's interests weren't undermined—not because she doubted Ianna's leadership.
She had come under the ancient pact, not to seize power but to ensure the best candidate was in charge.
And the best candidate was someone only the locals could identify.
Yet for her to relinquish all control, one final step was necessary.
"Archpriestess, would you swear an oath, as countless others have under the ancient pact?"
"Of course!" Ianna replied without hesitation.
Adjusting her robes, she turned to the three sacred statues of Melitele and solemnly swore:
"By Melitele, I, as her earthly emissary, the protector of humanity, Mother of All, goddess of fertility… do hereby swear…"
As the words left her lips, a divine resonance echoed.
Her voice seemed to overlap with another, as though her oath was being repeated in the heavens and engraved in some holy realm.
Tissaia de Vries relaxed visibly.
"…The heartbeat of justice resonates within me. My eyes measure the scales given by the goddess…"
"…Should the heartbeat of justice be tainted, she shall abandon me…"
"…Should the goddess's scales be broken, blindness shall afflict me, and I shall endure the torment of the oathbreaker…"
Ianna's dark pupils gleamed with golden light.
The old duke and Arthur watched intently as each word of the oath brought forth a divine transformation.
Vesemir frowned.
Tissaia hesitated, then waited for Ianna to finish reciting all the oaths before softly speaking, "There's no need to go this far; the punishment for breaking the oath is too cruel..."
Although it was still an oath before the gods, the punishment for breaking it could be chosen.
Tissaia's intention was to propose a punishment that wasn't so severe, something like divine fire or a blessing of abandonment... Enough to appease the other sorceresses, as the goddess herself had descended.
Who would have thought Ianna would choose the harshest oath, that of the "Oathbreaker"?
In truth, sorceresses may not have delved deeply into other fields, but their understanding of oaths was unparalleled, from every angle.
Exploiting loopholes in an oath, for someone like Tissaia, the most skilled sorceress in the northern continent, would cost her something but wasn't impossible.
Ianna had essentially placed her life in Tissaia's hands.
And as the Archpriestess of the Temple of Melitele, would she be so uninformed as to not understand the "unique" expertise of sorceresses?
Tissaia took a deep breath.
The Temple of Melitele, as always, was selfless and focused on the greater good, making her constantly calculating heart seem even more vile than the flesh of a ghoul.
Ianna waved her hand. "I don't intend to break my oath. What does it matter to me if the punishment is harsh?"
She could feel the burning sensation in her chest.
That was the divine mark left by the oath, a mark that, if she were to break it, would rip her heart out. She wouldn't die, but she would endure a living hell of punishment before suffering a soul's torment so great that no god would accept it.
Of course, there was one thing outsiders didn't know.
Oaths contained the oldest power in the world; the more cruel the oath, the greater the mysterious force the world would return, allowing her to better control the divine power bestowed by the goddess.
Though she didn't know what Allen had done to awaken the long-sleeping goddess, the sudden surge of power she felt, a strength unlike anything she had ever experienced, made her feel as though she were a child wielding a great sword, struggling to control it.
The divine power seemed to be clogged in her bloodline.
Now was the perfect time to swear the oath, so she might as well swear the harshest one and borrow strength from the world.
Allen had given her hope to defeat the dark god, and she needed to grasp as much power as possible. She couldn't waste whatever sacrifices Allen had made, even though she didn't fully understand them.
It was a simple thought, but it seemed to have an unexpected effect.
Tissaia was silent for a moment. Since the oath was already made, it would be too hypocritical to bring it up again.
Thus, she completely abandoned all command authority. "The Academy of Aretuza will honor the ancient pact. All sorceresses will obey the Temple's arrangements."
After a pause, she looked directly into Ianna's eyes and added, "Including myself."
Including "myself"… Ianna's eyes lit up.
Sorceresses weren't soldiers. The more there were, the stronger they became.
Tissaia alone could probably be as powerful as all the other sorceresses combined. And as the leader of Aretuza, she would never accept anyone's command.
"Ellander will also honor the ancient pact and obey the Temple's arrangements," the old duke added.
With the descent of Melitele's goddess, the situation became clear.
Ianna relaxed her frown.
Once the command authority was established, the battle against the dark god quickly moved into substantive progress. Soon, with everyone's brainstorming, a rough plan took shape, and they began to consider the details.
Vesemir, still holding the warm talisman, snapped to attention and listened closely.
Although he wasn't sure what this all meant.
The goddess's arrival and the blessing of the talismans seemed to have revealed their intentions to Ianna.
He noticed how Lysa was deliberately avoiding Ianna's gaze, casting resentful looks at him.
But what could Vesemir do? Melitele's goddess wasn't something he could control...
He didn't take the talismans away. What if the young man, reckless as ever, decided to run?
The Griffin only listens to Allen's orders...
"It's all Allen's fault!"
He deliberately avoided Lysa's gaze and sighed inwardly. Before all the commotion, Allen hadn't bothered to inform his own people.
Now, this awkward situation—how would he end it?
Vesemir wracked his brain, recording the details of the plan while trying to figure out how to convince Ianna, who had just received the goddess's blessing.
But by the time the meeting was almost over, he still hadn't figured it out.
And now...
As the discussion slowed, everyone gradually shifted their gaze toward Vesemir, especially the talisman peeking out from between his fingers.
Vesemir's heart skipped a beat. Something was wrong.
"I heard that there are nine Witchers from the Wolf School in the Temple..." Tissaia, eyeing Vesemir's dark-gold cat eyes, said thoughtfully. "Why wasn't there any discussion about the arrangements for those Witchers? Are they... not participating?"
"Seven of the younger Witchers who just came down from the mountains are not participating. They'll be preparing a special sword oil for the army. As for Master Vesemir and Sir Allen..."
Ianna paused, casting a complex glance at Lysa, who was hiding in the corner, looking down at her feet, before turning her gaze back to Vesemir.
"Master Vesemir, do you have other plans?"
.....
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