Chapter 1: In a Cellar in the Imperial Capital
In this world, a great country called the Eryx Empire owned most of the habitable lands. However, the Empire was in no way the world’s ruler. After all, another organization with far greater authority and military power existed.
Such was the Holy Church, an organization whose members revered the saviors from other worlds, and which was the religious foundation for every citizen of every nation. Its headquarters was a grand cathedral located in the Empire’s capital city. Just a glance at its majestic exterior, more impressive than the castle housing the imperial family itself, made evident the vast power the Holy Church possessed.
Today, just like any other day, believers from all over the world gathered within its walls. They looked around at the various articles related to saviors, let their imaginations run wild with the legends they’d learned through hearsay, and bowed their heads in prayer for their personal safety and that of those close to them.
Naturally, parts of the building were off-limits. Important areas were dedicated to sacred rites, the clergy’s living quarters, defensive facilities, and other such purposes. Knights of the Holy Order kept a constant watch so that those without authority were prevented from entering these areas.
There was also a section of the grand cathedral that even many of the knights were unaware existed. This room was one such area. Everything was made of polished stone, from the floor all the way up to the ceiling, and the air was cold and heavy. Even taking a breath felt like a weight in one’s chest.
Far inside the room was an altar. Anyone capable of using magic would recognize it as a magic tool. Several gems that appeared to be runestones were embedded in it, and the aura of densely packed mana radiated from it.
Two men stood before the altar. A grave atmosphere hung over them as if they were a crystallization of the heavy air in the room. One was close to two meters tall with a thoroughly trained body and was wearing the splendid armor of a knight. This was Harrison Addington, the marshal of the Holy Order and its First Company’s commander.
The other was an old man with white hair. In contrast to Harrison, his body was slender. He was tall and had a fair bit of muscle for his age, but that was a result of maintaining his personal health, rather than something for the sake of battle. He didn’t appear weak when standing next to Harrison, though. There was something about the old man that made him seem like a large boulder, unmoved by long years exposed to the elements.
The imposing old man’s name was Gerd Kruger. He was one of the archbishops who managed the Holy Church. Breaking the heavy silence, he opened his dry lips to speak.
“The world trembles.”
He was hoarse, but his voice rang with a force only found in those who knew with certainty what their purpose was and pushed forward undauntingly to achieve it.
“Only with an unshakable foundation can our citizens survive. It is none other than the great saviors’ existence that supports our world. Thus, the saviors must be prioritized, no matter the cost.”
He paused, turning a severe gaze to Harrison.
“The church’s complete historical records show no precedent of so many saviors appearing in our lands at once. Consequently, an unexpected situation may occur. No, not ‘may.’ There are already omens of it, and our duty is to bring an end to it.”
“I understand, Lord Kruger,” Harrison replied, nodding gravely. “We exist solely for the safety of the people and the stability of the world. To that end, we must be willing to offer our very lives.”
Harrison was earnest, and the words he spoke echoed with the pureness of a martyr.
“Very good,” Gerd said, pointing lightly with his chin. “Then go.”
“Sir!”
At the archbishop’s command, Harrison left the room. Only Gerd knew where the knight was going.
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