Holy City.

Life Church Main Hall.

"Blond hair, haha, it's blond hair again!"

In the grand hall, an elder dressed in a luxurious yet disheveled purple robe, with an unkempt beard covering his face, suddenly burst into hysterical laughter and then smashed the crystal ball in his hand to pieces.

"Haha, all I see is a head of blond hair. What the hell is this supposed to mean? What good am I as a so-called 'Grand Astrologer'? Bah! I'm done! Haha, I'm done! I'm heading back home for farm from now on!"

After finishing his tirade, the elder tore his extravagant purple robes apart. Ignoring the shocked and aghast gazes of the others in the hall, he dashed out in nothing but his bare skin, swinging his hips as he ran.

The elder ran so fast that even the church knights stationed outside the main hall didn't have time to intercept him. In a flash, he transformed into a streak of light that streaked across the sky of Holy City like a shooting star.

Inside the hall, several bishops exchanged silent glances for a long while, their expressions reminiscent of someone who had just stepped in shit left by a canine creature.

Finally, after a moment of deathly silence, someone broke it with a peculiar tone:

"How many has it been now?"

"Three, I think."

"That blond hair... Could it truly be that terrifying?"

"Who knows? But the ability to disrupt fate to this extent is truly chilling."

"Should we track it down?"

"There are countless people with blond hair in the world. How would we even begin? We can't just round them all up, can we?"

"True, but it's unsettling nonetheless."

"Should we perhaps issue..."

"It’s nothing but a vague and elusive prophecy. Why let it cause such panic among you?"

At this moment, a calm voice echoed from the highest seat of the hall.

The voice carried the authority of one who stood above all, yet it also exuded an inexplicable feeling of warmth and reassurance.

Almost instantly, the whispering in the hall ceased.

"His Holiness, the Pontiff." All present bowed respectfully.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Amid the solemn silence, the sound of a staff tapping against the ground resonated. An elder clad in a pure white ceremonial robe descended from the raised platform.

This elderly man was entirely white-haired, with a beard longer than that of any bishop in the hall. However, his face possessed the childlike softness and flush of youth. Only in the depths of his profoundly aged eyes—a pair of orbs seemingly housing infinite holy light—could one discern the marks of time that had shaped his life.

Life Church.

Pontiff, Hezekiah.

"Fate is inherently unpredictable. Over-focusing on unraveling its mysteries might only lead us to irrevocable ruin. Let’s simply do what we are meant to do and allow fate to play its course."

"We shall heed your wisdom."

"Then return to your posts. The appointed hour is drawing near."

"As you command."

The bishops in the hall quickly dispersed, leaving Hezekiah alone to gaze upwards at the countless stars scattered across the ceiling of the grand chamber.

His eyes glittered along with those stars, as if calculating something profound.

"Ulrons."

Hezekiah suddenly murmured gently.

"I am here," a nebulous voice replied, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere.

"Just begin."

"As you command."

At that very moment, the earth roared.

It was as if tens of thousands of thunderclaps resonated through the hall, and boundless golden light erupted from beneath Hezekiah’s feet, morphing into a massive golden pillar that pierced the heavens.

In Holy City, countless believers tilted their heads upward to witness the divine spectacle. Fanatical expressions spread across their faces as they then fell to their knees in unison, hands clasped together in devout prayer.

Hezekiah gently tapped his staff, harnessing the pure power of their faith. The golden glow enveloped the space, and a towering celestial gate formed in its midst.

Carved upon this gate were depictions of winged angels, frolicking children, and a divinely-blessed land flowing with milk and honey.

He stepped through the gate.

In an instant, the scenery around him shifted.

No longer was he within the grand and sacred church hall; he now stood in the boundless heights of celestial realms.

The light of heaven dimmed.

A transparent, nearly imperceptible membrane separated the boundless skies.

Below lay wisps of fragile clouds, wild gales swirling chaotically, and the dim glow of dawn.

Above spread a pure void.

Hezekiah stood with his hands behind his back, gazing intently into that endless void.

Soon, a raven, a white dove, and... a comically awkward, flailing, water-swimming-like mangy rat approached from the horizon.

"Aw, crap! You’re already here, old man?!" The rat halted in surprise upon seeing Hezekiah and exclaimed involuntarily.

Hezekiah gave the raven, the dove, and the rat a fleeting glance, then casually waved his hand:

"Little ones, move aside. Don’t block my way."

"Is this your private space or what?"

The raven countered indignantly.

"Why should we move, just because you say so?"

"Because..." Hezekiah replied nonchalantly without looking back.

"I am the 'old man' you're speaking of. Is that reason sufficient?"

The raven froze mid-protest.

As one of the continent's top-tier elites, Hezekiah, at over four hundred years of age, did indeed have the seniority to lord over them.

Couple that with his status as Life Church's Pontiff, and calling them "little ones" was practically an endearing gesture.

Stealing a glance sideways, the raven noticed the rat had already scurried far away on its tiny legs, and the dove had long vanished.

Such cowards.

The raven’s beak twitched peculiarly as it muttered:

"You were simply born earlier; what’s there to flaunt?!"

Flapping its wings, it flew off too, giving up the prime viewing spot.

Disregarding their departure, Hezekiah continued focusing on the infinite void.

Be it in terms of rank, power, or station, this was undoubtedly where he belonged.

Long accustomed to standing at the forefront, he paid little heed to anyone behind.

Until suddenly, his brows furrowed as he turned his gaze to the side.

Not far away, the space twisted briefly.

A figure emerged—a young girl with white hair dressed like a tiny lolicon.

She wore a pink nightgown and looked as if she’d just awoken, her drowsy red-amber eyes glancing lazily at Hezekiah before pouting.

"Move aside, little one. Don’t block me," she said flatly.

Hezekiah: "..."

That sentiment... Why does it sound so familiar?

“MelaDormir.”

Hezekiah’s expression turned solemn as he addressed the girl seriously:

"I was here first."

“I know.”

Mela yawned and stretched languidly, speaking nonchalantly:

"Show more respect to the elder, understood? Besides, you’re just a brat whose facial hair isn’t fully grown yet. Why stand so close? Didn’t your mom teach you proper manners? When spectating something, keep your distance—or risk getting caught in collateral damage then you'll cry for it."

Facial hair not fully grown…

Instinctively, Hezekiah stroked his beard, which nearly reached his chest…

Yet he couldn’t rebut her.

Hezekiah sighed and looked to Mela and said, "Projection?"

"Huh? Thinking of bullying me because I didn't come in my original form?"

Mela waved her small fists and said viciously:

"Do you dare to make a move? As long as you dare to make a move, I will ...... I will immediately lie on the ground and blackmail you to death!"

Is this really what a Great Magical Mentor who has lived for a thousand years should say?

‘......’

“Ulrons...” Hezekiah sighed softly, turning away from Mela.

"I am here," the ethereal voice responded again.

"Find another spot."

"As you wish."

With another resounding burst of golden light, a simple door emerged.

Hezekiah stepped through it and vanished instantly.

Once he left, Mela’s playful demeanor evaporated, replaced by solemnity.

"Ulrons? A mere nap, and the sanctuary has evolved to this level? The church’s millennium of foundation remains a force to be reckoned with."

Mela narrowed her eyes as though analyzing something:

"So that’s how... Using living souls to manipulate the static domain of authority, with the followers’ faith as fuel to offset the exorbitant costs.

Clever, nearly mirroring my genius methodology. You’re truly formidable, Hezekiah."