Chapter 58 History (Part Two)

In the year 2704 of the Radiant Era, driven by the feudal system, humanity’s first empire—the Usayn Empire—was proclaimed, becoming the most powerful secular force of its time. Yet, another inherent trait of feudalism soon revealed itself: the necessity for ceaseless expansion. At its core, feudalism thrived on drawing more individuals into one’s faction, thus sharing and multiplying the collective benefits.

With the support of their vassals, lords amassed ever-greater power, and as the circle of beneficiaries widened, the appetite for expansion grew. The people of the Usayn Empire, eager to attain the status of vassals, threw themselves into their work with zeal. Two centuries later, the empire reached the zenith of its might, and the calls for outward conquest intensified. Usayn III resolved to embark on a campaign to unite all of humanity beneath his banner.

Once the war began, Usayn III was stunned to discover that events did not unfold as he had anticipated, for the church’s stranglehold still lay heavy upon the lords. The Usayn Empire was indeed formidable, able to muster an army of fifty thousand at a single summons—no kingdom could withstand such force. However, any battle involving more than ten thousand men would provoke the church’s backlash.

It was as if a mighty warrior, bound hand and foot, were forced to duel—no matter how great his strength, he could not bring it to bear. Crushing campaigns devolved into protracted wars of attrition. The other kingdoms, too, understood the church’s limits and exploited this rule, forging alliances to resist the empire’s annexation, for they, too, had their own vassals.

The wars dragged on for more than forty years with little progress for the Usayn Empire, while internal strife in the other kingdoms was greatly eased. Yet the sheer size of the empire became a burden it could no longer bear, for the vassals, having reaped no rewards from war, began to grow discontented with the emperor.

Reluctantly, the Usayn Empire turned to developing the wild frontiers. With the church’s support, the empire made some gains, but at enormous cost to its national strength. Meanwhile, its neighbors seized the opportunity of the empire’s weakness to invade its lands—all, once again, because of the feudal system.

So for centuries, the cycle repeated: the Usayn Empire ultimately collapsed with a resounding crash, and new empires rose from its ashes. From that time on, the human nobility became embroiled in an endless game of power, each taking the stage in turn, yet no empire ever endured for more than fifteen hundred years.

The tragedy of the Usayn Empire resonated with all the lords, who grew ever more dissatisfied with the church’s dominance and pressed for larger-scale wars by every means at their disposal. Yet the church remained unmoved, insisting that the Radiant Codex was sacred and inviolable; should any lord dare defy it, the church would revoke their right to rule. The church also urged the lords to focus their efforts on expanding into the wilderness, offering unconditional support, but was met with unanimous scorn.

Out of resentment toward the church, the lords relaxed their pursuit of sorcerers, hoping to cause the church trouble thereby. Moreover, feudalism itself had greatly diminished the church’s influence over the common folk. Sorcerers began to reemerge in human society, soon founding numerous organizations.

These sorcerous organizations indeed posed a considerable problem for the church. Though by now the church was immensely powerful, the lords’ lack of cooperation made it impossible to eradicate the sorcerers entirely—the problem only intensified.

At this time, the church’s grip over the commoner class had weakened. Furthermore, all the awakened—those with innate magical gifts—came from humble backgrounds and were often sheltered by family and friends, making these elusive sorcerous groups a constant headache for the church. In response, the church established the Inquisition.

To annihilate the sorcerers, the Inquisition employed brutal measures, punishing ordinary people who harbored them—most of whom were relatives of the sorcerers. This only deepened the sorcerers’ hatred for the church. Driven by survival and vengeance, the sorcerous groups began to unite, and in 5014 of the Radiant Era, the Pantheon—an alliance of sorcerers—was born.

This radical organization, fueled by hatred for the church, launched continual assassinations of church officials, especially targeting members of the Inquisition with ruthless violence.

In the face of the Pantheon’s rampage, the lords simply stood by. Despite repeated warnings from the Radiant Church, their response was only token. The Pantheon, for its part, never attacked commoners or nobles, leaving the church powerless—since sorcerers did not harm the common folk, the lords’ duty to protect their subjects was never invoked. According to the Radiant Codex, the church could not accuse a lord of dereliction simply due to passivity, and thus could not punish them.

Thousands of years had taught everyone the church’s rigidity and how to exploit it. Yet those same millennia had made people forget the true horror of sorcerers.

Thus, the Pantheon and the Inquisition waged their tangled war for centuries, until the birth of the Blair siblings.

In 5423 of the Radiant Era, the Inquisition received a report: in a certain village, a pair of twins had awakened their magical gifts—a sister, Blair, and a brother, Brian. When the church’s holy warriors arrived, the children were nowhere to be found, clearly hidden by the villagers. This was not a rare occurrence, and the solution was simple: the holy warriors gathered the villagers and, before all their eyes, executed the children’s parents, then their grandparents, and continued until all the children’s relatives were slain. Then they began killing other villagers. At last, the villagers capitulated and surrendered the twins.

As the holy warriors escorted Blair and Brian away, members of the Pantheon ambushed them and rescued the siblings. Though the church organized a pursuit, they found nothing, and the incident was simply recorded in the Inquisition’s archives—a commonplace event at the time.

They could not have known that, two decades later, these siblings would bring catastrophe upon the church and alter the fate of the entire human world.

A few years on, the Blair siblings became active in the Pantheon’s operations, displaying astounding power. Blair, the elder sister, was a master of the elements; in battles against the clergy, she was invincible, able to incinerate a holy warrior to ashes with a single glance, while Brian stood quietly at her side, always an onlooker.

Blair’s might led the sorcerers to elevate her as the leader of the Pantheon. Under her command, the Pantheon shattered the church’s encirclements time and again, launching relentless reprisals. Ultimately, the Pantheon stormed a great cathedral of the Radiant Church, slaying a cardinal and bringing down an entire diocese. From then on, Blair was known as the Great Witch.

The pope was enraged, and the lords secretly rejoiced.

At the pope’s command, the Inquisition mobilized in full force to confront the Pantheon, knowing Blair would accept their challenge—for their enemies were among them, and she now possessed the strength to meet them head-on.

Blair and Brian arrived. Two alone, they faced more than three hundred elite holy warriors, over twenty paladins, a cardinal, and the legendary paladin, Bessel, head of the Inquisition.

In that fateful battle, Bessel manifested wings formed of wind and holy light. With the cardinal’s blessing, his body shone with runes, holy fire swirling around him, and the legendary paladin’s wind domain churned the very void into turbulence. As he charged Blair, he was a meteoric spectacle, brilliant and terrible.

But Blair merely extended a slender finger and touched his mithril sword—instantly, Bessel was transformed into a statue of ice. The legendary paladin fell.

Afterward, the clergy launched a desperate assault on the sorcerers, only to be mercilessly slaughtered. The Inquisition was annihilated.

The pope was shocked. The lords were stunned.

Once again, the sorcerers displayed to the world the meaning of supernatural power, and the lords’ attitudes quietly shifted. They knew none among their families could withstand Blair—not even royalty. Though the church was equally unmatched, the chains it had placed on the lords now ensnared itself, while sorcerers remained unbound.

At last, with the lords’ cooperation, the church spent several years luring the Pantheon into a mountain fastness. There, the pope himself appeared, accompanied by the patriarch (head of bishops), six archbishops, twenty-seven legendary paladins, and the five-thousand-strong Order of Radiance—a force capable of sweeping aside all secular might.

The outcome of the battle was never in doubt, but the cost was unimaginable.

As the Pantheon’s members fell one by one, Brian finally revealed his true power to the world.

Throughout the battle, Brian clung silently to his sister’s side as always, but the clergy discovered that all divine magic that entered his vicinity was nullified—even the knights’ elemental powers failed. Within his domain, Blair could cast spells unhindered by any law, reaching the heights of the ancient age of sorcery.

The Order of Radiance unleashed a storm of arrows upon Brian. Blair fought desperately to shield him, but Brian stepped forward and met death unflinchingly.

Before all eyes, as death closed in, Brian’s form dissolved into a shadow and merged into Blair. The witch’s power soared—worldly laws ceased to affect her. She became the mistress of earth, fire, wind, and water, wielding cataclysmic might.

Rain of fire and molten rock, hurricanes laced with ice, the earth split open, lightning fell like rain—a massacre ensued.

The pope, offering up his own life, sounded the golden horn. Six radiant angels descended to battle the witch. After half a day’s struggle, Blair was finally purified.

That battle decimated the church’s main strength and left it grievously weakened, while the lords began to stir.

In the following fifteen hundred years, two momentous events shook the church to its core.

Seven centuries ago, the fifth emperor of the Lant Empire seized upon the chaos among the northern lords to reclaim lands from the nomads, expanding his territory into the northern plains and casting covetous eyes upon the northern domains. He mobilized fifty thousand freemen to build a mighty fortress at a strategic location, a process that claimed the lives of more than seven thousand. The church intervened once more, executing the emperor for the crime of slaughtering freemen.

This act sent shockwaves throughout the human world, for it was unlike the church’s usual conduct. The lords had long since learned that only wars with casualties exceeding ten thousand would provoke the church’s intervention, and the emperor had not crossed this threshold. The deaths of the freemen were not caused by a single event, nor were they the result of war—it was illogical! Moreover, the emperor was executed on the spot, not captured and publicly tried—again, highly irregular.

This suspicious affair led to the decline of the Lant Empire and aroused the outrage of all the lords. Amid the undercurrents of dissent, the White Tower faction emerged, a loose alliance for mutual protection, and the lords flocked to join.

Three centuries ago, a scandal erupted in the Papal State of Ael. The lords of the White Tower seized the opportunity to invade Ael, and the Radiant Pope ultimately declared the church would no longer intervene in its temporal affairs. The Papal State of Ael announced its secession from the church and joined the already tottering Lant Empire.

The church, represented by the patriarch, the grand inquisitor, and the council of elders, signed the New Covenant of Light with the lords. This covenant, based on the Radiant Codex, added a new provision: the church would no longer execute lords who violated the codex, but would instead imprison them.

Meanwhile, the human lords swore in the great cathedral never to divulge the details of the scandal, nor to record or discuss it in any form.

———

“King, continue the analysis.” When his recollections ended, Victor gave instructions to the Tower Spirit.

“My lord, this history reveals a certain truth: there has indeed been a change within the church.”

“Of course,” Victor replied. “The pope has withdrawn from the center of power to become a spiritual leader, while the church is now governed jointly by the patriarch, the monasteries, and the Inquisition. I do wonder, though, what exactly that scandal was, to force the pope from office. Pity—Edwin said he doesn’t know either. I suspect it was quite a salacious affair,” Victor added, gossiping.

“My lord, given the nobility’s attitude toward reproduction in this world, it’s almost certain that the scandal had nothing to do with women.”

Victor’s face reddened with embarrassment at the king’s words, recalling that wild, romantic night with Sylvia.

The nobility of this world, in pursuit of pure bloodlines, had truly lost all sense of propriety. Perhaps, Victor thought, even he himself had been cuckolded...

He thought of his nominal wife, the beautiful Marquess Sophia, and felt a twinge of jealousy.

Could Nicole have betrayed me as well? For the first time, Victor felt uneasy, as if Nicole were his true wife and Sophia merely a stranger.

“My lord, a scandal alone cannot bring down a pope—only force can accomplish that,” the king continued, ignoring Victor’s shifting expression. “I surmise that the knightly class has seized control of the church.”

“What? What did you say?!” Victor was so shocked he forgot his worries.

“My lord, the foundation of the church is divine magic, but the clergy are actually split into two factions: ordinary priests and paladins. And paladins are, of course, knights.”

“The turning point was the church’s war with the Pantheon. That battle gravely weakened the church—or more precisely, the ordinary clergy—while the paladins likely suffered far fewer losses.”

“Why do you say that?” Victor asked.

“My lord, when you’re in your Apocalypse state, you move at over twenty-five meters per second, with superhuman perception and the precise control of X-3. This greatly increases your chances of surviving a cataclysm compared to ordinary people. So what about the knights, whose strength and spirit are perfectly unified? What about silver-rank knights? Legendary paladins?”

“I see your point,” Victor nodded. “Legendary paladins were far more likely to survive wide-area attacks than ordinary clergy, so they survived while the regular clergy suffered heavy casualties. The key is that the pope died, creating a huge power vacuum, which allowed the paladin class to seize greater authority within the church.”

“That’s not quite it—the pope didn’t die, but grew weaker. Only six of the twelve radiant angels could be summoned, and even then, at the cost of the pope’s own life. The paladins noticed this. Perhaps the golden horn is already in their hands,” the king added.

The pope, as inheritor of the golden horn, was the leader of the church and the representative of the ordinary clergy. Yet, ordinary priests and paladins had always been at odds due to the disparity in power—knights were far stronger than regular people, and it was no different within the church. But for thousands of years, the pope had kept them in check. Now, with the opportunity at hand, of course the paladins seized power.

“No wonder the church’s subsequent actions have been so aristocratic, full of intrigue. Perhaps the Lant emperor was murdered after all,” Victor said coldly. “A rigid, hidebound church suits the lords’ interests—no one likes a cunning, manipulative church.”

“In the end, paladins are still knights. They cannot rid themselves of their obsession with knightly bloodlines, and intermarriage with other noble families has formed a new faction: the church’s knightly faction,” the king continued.

“The Lant emperor’s death must have served this faction’s interests. What’s more, they were testing the rules of the Radiant Codex, which aligns perfectly with the lords’ needs. This incident was orchestrated by the lords of the church’s knightly faction, leading to the formation of the White Tower faction—not so much to oppose the church, but to counter the church’s knightly faction,” Victor realized.

“But I don’t understand—why would the White Tower faction join forces with the church’s knightly faction to force the pope’s abdication? That doesn’t fit their interests.”

“My lord, why couldn’t it have been the White Tower and the pope joining forces against the church’s knightly faction—and failing? The pope’s abdication and the signing of the New Covenant of Light both point to this. Only the knightly faction emerged as the true victors,” the king said.

“The New Covenant of Light? How so?” Victor asked, sensing a crucial point but unable to grasp it.

“The church’s knightly faction had two motives in orchestrating the Lant emperor’s demise. First, political gain; second, to test the rules of the Radiant Codex.

“It is a fact that the Lant emperor was killed, but it was likely not a paladin who did it. When they tested the rules of the codex, they suffered a backlash. All those clergy who took part lost their powers. The actual killing was probably done by secular knights disguised as paladins.

“Two points support my theory: first, they did not escort the Lant emperor back to the Vatican but executed him on the spot—if the clergy had not suffered backlash, this would not have happened. Second, the New Covenant of Light decreed that lords who violated the codex would no longer be executed, but merely imprisoned. On the surface, this benefits the lords, but in reality it expands the church’s judicial power and is detrimental to the lords.”

“Damn!” Victor cursed, his face grim.

He now understood it all.

The church’s knightly faction had seized control. They sought to use the church’s power for their own political gain and needed to test the codex’s rules. The Lant emperor was their target, but as he had not violated the codex’s limits, the knightly faction suffered backlash. This led to the formation of the White Tower faction. The White Tower then tried to help the pope but failed, and was forced to sign the New Covenant. The new agreement gave the knightly faction judicial authority: if they wished to deal with a lord, they could now imprison him for slaughtering freemen. Since this was not execution, they would not lose their powers, further proving that their first attempt had backfired, prompting this new approach.

“Why didn’t the church’s knightly faction unify the human world?” Victor wondered.

Now, with the knightly faction acting as both police and judge, they held every advantage, yet three centuries had passed with little change.

“I believe the White Tower faction has now allied with the ordinary clergy, whose numbers are greater, and the White Tower is not without countermeasures.”

“What countermeasures?” Victor asked at once, sensing this was highly relevant to himself.

“Total war!” the king replied.

Victor suddenly understood. If the knightly faction dared to use the church’s power to unify humanity, the White Tower lords would escalate the wars without limit—until the Lord of Radiance grew wrathful and withdrew divine magic, or until the sorcerers returned, even if it meant mutual destruction.

“It seems the situation can still be maintained. Even paladins cannot ignore the restrictions of the Radiant Codex,” Victor breathed a sigh of relief. He was hardly in a position to take risks.

“My lord, the unification of humanity aligns with both the lords’ and the church’s interests. It is now inevitable. The fact that the White Tower lords agreed to the New Covenant shows they are not prepared to fight the church’s knightly faction to the bitter end; they keep the faction as a bargaining chip to secure more benefits. But you must take heed: once the great lords of the White Tower have gained what they want, they will leave the faction behind. To them, it is only a tool. My lord, you must prepare in advance.”

The New Covenant’s provision against executing lords was simply a mutual agreement to set limits in their struggle. They could fight, negotiate, ally, intermarry, and even let their children take each other’s surnames—just not destroy one another, or all would fall together.

“You’re right, but this place is so remote that even if the great lords’ brains are dashed out, it won’t affect us. We have time to develop our own strength. For now, our two strategies are simple: make more money, and don’t become cannon fodder,” Victor replied with a smile.

It was always enjoyable to watch the tigers fight from a safe distance. Victor had no ambition to unify the world; he simply wished to live his own peaceful life.

“By the way, King, what if the Radiant Codex were to collapse? Would that mean the end of the world?” Victor asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

The knightly class had no real faith in the Lord of Radiance; having just seized control of the church, they were already testing the codex’s rules. Perhaps they truly would break it. In retrospect, the pope’s family seemed almost charming in their honesty.

“My lord, the Radiant Codex cannot collapse. Its real purpose is for the first pope to set a shackle upon his successors, to limit the clergy’s abuse of divine magic. The codex itself does not generate power. The source of divine magic is the covenant between the first pope and the Lord of Radiance. I believe only when demons re-establish contact with this world will the clergy’s power truly collapse. At that point, even the Lord of Radiance will be shaken.”

“But even then, it won’t be the end of the world,” the king added.

“Why are you so certain? The Lord of Radiance is a being who changed the world’s laws—how could we possibly withstand demons, who are His adversaries?” Victor asked with anxiety.

“My lord, you overestimate these extraordinary beings, and underestimate humanity. I have never believed that the Lord of Radiance truly altered the world’s laws. If He had, why can the clearly supernatural alchemy towers still function?”

“Even so, what makes you believe that humanity possesses greater power?” Victor pressed.

“Whether awakened ones, the church, or the alchemical empire, they are simply not on the same level. Yet humanity created the Alchemy Empire.”

“You think we are the descendants of the Naryl Empire?”

“There’s no doubt about it. The alchemical humans were identical to us, which proves it.”

“But the Naryl Empire was destroyed—perhaps by demons or the Lord of Radiance.”

“My lord, we lack the evidence, but there are indications that the Naryl Empire destroyed countless powerful extraordinary beings, fashioned their remains into alchemical towers, then fought off invading alien races and defeated them.”

The king’s words left Victor speechless.

“My lord, your perspective is limited by the humans here. This world is vaster than you can imagine. How can you be sure these humans are the only ones in the world? Are their few thousand years of history the history of all mankind? The Naryl Empire was a thousand times stronger than the chosen of the gods, yet never explored the Endless Forest, the lands north of the Terrell Mountains, or south of the Goldenwater River, and in the end, vanished from history. Compared to such a vast world, even extraordinary beings are not so mighty.”

The king’s words made Victor see everything in a new light. Indeed, perhaps the Alchemy Empire encountered alien races in its explorations, and when it could not withstand them, it turned the demons into alchemical towers, defeated the invaders, and thus the demons sought to exterminate the Empire’s descendants. Perhaps they cannot intervene directly in humanity, only deceive them; and perhaps the Lord of Radiance himself was an alchemical lifeform created by the Empire—which would explain His law-like existence.

With these thoughts, Victor felt the clouds lift and a longing to see the wider world arise within him.

“After all that, I realize it’s all rather pointless—better to have some alchemical militia,” Victor said with a wry smile.

“King, begin production of alchemical militia. This time, load the skills close combat mastery, ranged weapon proficiency, and Monkey Secret Form,” Victor ordered. Whether it was supernatural beings or the power struggle between church and nobility, they were all too far removed from him. Survival was what mattered most.

“Yes, my lord,” the king replied dutifully.

“My lord, the alchemical militia has mutated!”

“What?”