"Clean up the arena and make sure the gladiator gets proper care," Duke Sauron called out loudly.
"Y-yes your grace," came the hurried reply.
A group of men quickly entered the arena, dragging away the Red Troll's corpse, which had grotesquely reduced into a mere lump of flesh.
Another team approached Alden, who was barely clinging to life, and carefully carried him away.
Once the arena was cleared, the Duke rose from his seat and addressed the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, I deeply regret presenting you with such a disturbing and gruesome performance. I failed to take into account the troll's savage nature, and for that, I offer my sincerest apologies."
He paused, looking at the uneasy faces around him. "I know that words alone can't make up for the shock of what you've just seen. So, to help ease your minds, I've prepared something special. Originally, this was meant as a parting gift, but it seems far more fitting to present it now. Please welcome the Priestesses from the Church of Grace and Blessing!"
The nobles, still shaken and distressed, barely registered the Duke's words, and their applause was sparse and half-hearted.
But the mood changed almost immediately when they watched a group of gorgeous women step inside the arena, followed by another group of equally striking women. They were all dressed in white robes with golden laces, looking holy and pure.
Their presence instantly brightened the mood of the previously gloomy crowd.
For some men, though, it wasn't just their spirit that was stirred, but the thing inside their pants.
"They're the priestesses of the Church of Grace and Blessing?!"
"Are you sure they're not angels? I mean, look at them!"
"Is the Church of Grace and Blessing only recruited beautiful women?"
"I heard they're all sworn to stay maidens for life. What a shame... such a waste!"
"Do you think the Storm Goddess would strike me with lightning if I were to change faith right now, wife?"
"I can't say whether the Storm Goddess will smite you with lightning for changing your faith, but I can guarantee that I will beat you with a broom if that were to happen, husband."
Lumien, being a normal man, naturally couldn't resist his eyes not being drawn to the group as well.
It would be a blatant lie if he said the nun attire they wore didn't stir any psychological reaction from his body. After all, as a man of culture, nun dress happened to be one of his fetishes.
His eyes first admired their faces, then slowly drifted downward, pausing a little at the curves, eventually settling on their exposed calves and delicate, pale feet.
"Do you like what you see?"
"Yes, very much," Lumien replied without thinking.
Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain on his side.
He turned to find his sister glaring at him, her fingers still pinching his waist hard.
"Ow! What was that for?" Lumien complained, rubbing his waist where Azalea had pinched him.
"You just admitted you like staring at them," Azalea's frown deepened.
"Well, isn't it natural for a man to admire beautiful things?" Lumien said with an air of righteousness.
"A man? You're just a kid!" she scolded, giving him another sharp pinch. Lumien yelped, pulling away. "Okay, okay! I'll stop!" he muttered, finally looking away.
His eyes landed on a woman standing at the front of the group. Compared to the row of beautiful priestesses behind her, she stood out like a dull stone among glittering jewels—her appearance, to put it bluntly, was extremely plain.
She looked to be middle-aged, with a few wrinkles starting to show and a serious, stern-looking face.
Her sharp gaze turned toward the Duke, who was sitting on a higher platform, clearly looking down on her and everyone else. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she gave him a small bow and asked, "Shall I begin the ceremony, Your Grace?"
"You may, High Priestess Lovia." the Duke replied with a nod.
High Priestess Lovia turned to face the crowd, her expression softening as she said in a calm, soothing voice. "Please, everyone, close your eyes."
"Do not worry. Participating in this ceremony will not affect your personal faith. What I wish to perform is a mass Pacify. This will help stabilize your minds and bring you some peace. More importantly, it can also aid in healing past psychological trauma."
She spoke a few more reassuring sentences, and gradually, the initially uneasy crowd began to relax, drawn to follow her lead under the influence of her soothing voice.
Once the crowd had quieted, Lovia raised her hands, moving them slowly. A soft light began to glow from her palms, warm and steady, like the flicker of a candle.
"Rain of Pacify!"
The Priestesses standing behind her adopted the same posture, their palms lighting up one by one with the same gentle glow.
The air in the colosseum began to shift. The stench of blood and violence, so deeply ingrained in the stone walls, faded away, replaced by a serenity that felt almost sacred, as if holy water had washed over the entire arena.
In the center of it all, the priestesses continued to channel their light.
One by one, their glowing hands added to the growing radiance, until every single one of them was enveloped in the same soft, white light.
What began as a small, solitary glow had become an overwhelming whirlpool of brilliance, swirling together like the Mother's grace reaching out to her children.
The whirlpool of light grew larger and brighter, filling the colosseum with an almost vivid sense of blessing.
Then, it shattered outward, sending a droplet of white light to every person in the crowd. Each droplet drifted gently toward its recipient, settling onto their foreheads and sinking into them like a warm embrace. The scene was like rain falling onto the crowds.
As the light touched them, the silence broke.
Those who had been sitting still with their eyes closed suddenly began to sob. Tears streamed down their faces as they clutched their hands to their chests.
When Lumien was struck by the white light, he sensed the memory of the Red Troll's brutality was forced into the farthest recesses of his mind. He felt unless he consciously chose to recall it, the memory would remain buried.
Suddenly, the bitter memories from his childhood came flooding back. He was forced to recall the day his parents sat him down, telling him the truth about his condition, that he had an unheard, rare terminal illness. While they didn't say it outright, he understood there was no cure and that he might not have much time left.
One after another, the painful memories followed. The constant battles with his frail body, the loneliness of being too sick and thus being forced to be bedridden for most of the time, the quiet anger he sometimes felt toward the unfairness of it all, the moments of hopelessness, and the overwhelming sadness.
Just as the crushing wave of emotions threatened to overwhelm him, he felt something warm and soft wrap around him, like a comforting hug. It was as if someone was holding him close, gently patting his back. Though no one was there, he could almost hear a voice:
"You're not alone."
"I'm here for you."
"Don't give up."
"There's still hope ahead."
The words weren't fancy or grand, but they felt real, like something a mother would have said. At that moment, he felt like returning to being a child again, crying after being scolded, only for his mom to crouch down and hug him, wiping away his tears. That simple, familiar comfort melted some of the bitterness in his heart and made the pain just a little easier to bear.
As the comforting warmth eased his pain, Lumien slowly came back to his senses. His ears quickly registered the sobbing noises coming from every direction.
Opening his eyes, Lumien was stunned to find the nobles were all crying openly with tears streaming down their faces, noses running, snot flying.
"I miss my mother so much," someone wailed. "As soon as this trip is over, I'm going back to my hometown to see her. It's been a while since I last saw her!"
"You're lucky you can still visit her," another voice replied, choked with emotion. "I haven't seen my mother in decades. We had a terrible fight, and I was too stubborn to make amends. Now, all I want is to beg for her forgiveness."
"You don't know how lucky you both are," someone else said through their tears. "My mother passed away years ago. I'd give anything just to see her one more time."
Just then, he felt a firm grip on his hand. Turning his head, he saw his sister looking at him, her eyes devoid of tears but the rim of her eyes were red.
She didn't say a word, but Lumien, who had known her his entire life, understood the message in her gaze.
"I will work hard."
"For you."
"For me."
"For our family."
He then heard the priestess in the arena chanting together and loudly.
"In Her light, may we be whole, and in Her peace, may we find hope."
"May Her grace flow through us, and Her blessing heal the world."
"Praise be to the Goddess of Grace!"