Chapter 225: Hezekiah
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 225: Hezekiah
Volume 3
The Holy City.
The Main Hall of the Church of Human Life.
"Yellow hair! Haha, yellow hair again!"
In the middle of the great hall, an old man dressed in disheveled, luxurious purple robes—his face a mess of unkempt beard—suddenly threw his head back and erupted into a fit of manic laughter. Then, he slammed the crystal ball in his hand into the floor, shattering it into a thousand pieces.
"Haha! No matter how much I look, all I see is a head of yellow hair! What the hell am I even looking for? Why am I even acting as some 'Grand Astrologer'? Hah! I’m done! I quit! I’m going back to my hometown to be a farmer!"
With that, the old man ripped his expensive purple robes to shreds. Ignoring the horrified stares of the others in the hall, he turned tail and ran out stark naked, his backside wiggling as he fled.
The old man moved with incredible speed. Before the Church Knights guarding the hall could even think to stop him, he transformed into a streak of light, soaring across the sky of the Holy City like a falling star.
Inside the hall, several Bishops stood frozen, exchanging looks of stunned silence. Their expressions were as foul as if they had stepped in canine excrement the moment they walked out their front doors.
After a long while, someone finally broke the deathly silence, their voice trembling with an odd tone:
"How many does that make now?"
"The third one, I believe."
"Is that... is that 'Yellow Hair' truly that terrifying?"
"I do not know. But to be able to disrupt the threads of fate to such an extent... it is unheard of."
"Should we track him down?"
"There are so many blondes in this world; how would we even begin? We can't exactly round them all up."
"True. But it leaves a bitter taste in one's mouth, doesn't it?"
"Perhaps we should issue a—"
"It is merely a single, ethereal word of prophecy. Why does it cause you such panic?"
At that moment, an indifferent voice rang out from the highest seat in the hall.
The voice carried the absolute majesty of one in high authority, yet it was strangely soothing, like a spring breeze.
The whispering in the hall ceased instantly.
"Your Holiness," everyone said in unison, bowing deeply.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Amidst the solemn silence, the sound of a scepter striking the floor echoed. An old man dressed in pure white divine robes descended from the high platform.
The man’s hair and beard were stark white, his beard longer than any of the Bishops present. Yet, his face possessed the tender, ruddy complexion of an infant. Only his weathered eyes—which seemed to harbor an infinite Sea of Holy Light—betrayed the deep furrows carved into his soul by the passage of time.
The Church of Human Life.
Pope Hezekiah.
"Fate is inherently difficult to fathom. To be overly obsessed with tracking its footprints is to invite an irrevocable dead end. It is better to let nature take its course and simply do what we must."
"We stand corrected, Your Holiness."
"Then return to your posts. The time is drawing near."
"Yes, Your Holiness."
The Bishops quickly dispersed, leaving the Pope alone. He looked up at the countless stars depicted on the ceiling of the hall.
His gaze flickered in tandem with those stars, as if he were performing some vast calculation.
"Ulrons."
Hezekiah suddenly called out in a soft voice.
"I am here," an ethereal voice echoed, its source impossible to pinpoint.
"Begin."
"As you command."
In that instant, the earth groaned.
A sound like ten thousand peals of thunder erupted within the hall. Infinite golden light burst from beneath the Pope’s feet, transforming into a massive golden pillar that pierced through the heavens and the earth.
Within the Holy City, countless believers looked up at the sight, their faces flushed with fanaticism. They knelt like a receding tide, pressing their palms together in fervent prayer.
Feeling the surge of pure Power of Faith, Hezekiah tapped his scepter lightly. Where the golden light converged, a massive doorway slammed into existence.
The door was carved with winged angels, frolicking children, and a divine land flowing with milk and honey.
He stepped through the gate.
In a flash, his surroundings shifted.
He was no longer in that magnificent, holy hall, but had arrived at a place in the high heavens, infinitely far away.
The light of the sky dimmed.
A transparent membrane, nearly invisible to the naked eye, partitioned the endless firmament.
Below it lay thin clouds, wild hurricanes, and the dim light of dawn.
Above it was a void.
Hezekiah stood with his hands behind his back, silently gazing into that void.
Before long, a crow flew in from the horizon, followed by a white pigeon, and a ridiculous... mangy rat that was flailing its limbs as if it were treading water.
"Holy crap, the old fossil got here this fast?" The rat froze when it saw Hezekiah, blurting out its surprise instinctively.
Hezekiah glanced at the crow, the pigeon, and the rat, then waved his hand dismissively.
"Little ones, move aside. Do not block my view."
"Is this your house or something?"
The crow snapped back in anger, "You tell us to move and we just move? By what right?"
"By the right... that I am the 'old fossil' you speak of."
Hezekiah didn't even turn his head, speaking flatly:
"Is that reason enough?"
The crow choked on its words.
As one of the top powerhouses on the continent, Hezekiah was over four hundred years old. He truly had the right to pull rank based on seniority.
Not to mention his status as the Pope of the Church of Human Life. Calling them "little ones" was actually quite grandfatherly of him.
The crow’s eyes shifted instinctively, only to find that the mangy rat had already paddled its short legs far away, and the white pigeon was nowhere to be seen.
Spineless bastards.
The crow’s beak twitched strangely as it muttered, "So what if you were born a little earlier? What's there to be so smug about?"
With a flap of its wings, it too flew off, yielding the prime observation spot.
Hezekiah paid them no mind, continuing to stare into the endless void.
Whether by seniority, strength, or status, this was his rightful place.
He had long since grown accustomed to standing at the very front of everyone else.
Suddenly, however, his brow furrowed.
He looked to the side. The space nearby suddenly distorted.
Out stepped... a white-haired loli.
The little girl was wearing a pink nightgown and looked as though she had just woken up, her eyes still heavy with sleep.
She rubbed the corners of her eyes, her amber-red pupils scanning Hezekiah with a hazy gaze. She curled her lip and said:
"Little guy, move aside. Do not block my view."
Hezekiah: "..."
Those words... why did they sound so familiar?
"Mela Domir."
Hezekiah stared at Mela with a serious expression, speaking solemnly: "I was here first."
"I know."
Mela let out a yawn and stretched, looking entirely indifferent. "Don't you know to respect your elders? Besides, what's a little brat who hasn't even grown his hair out doing standing so close? Didn't your mother teach you to stand back when watching a show? If you get caught in the crossfire, you might end up crying."
What the hell do you mean "hasn't grown his hair out"...
Hezekiah instinctively touched his beard, which reached nearly to his chest.
But he found himself unable to argue.
Hezekiah sighed and looked at Mela. "A projection?"
"What, you think because I'm not here in the flesh, you can bully me?"
Mela shook her tiny fist and said menacingly:
"Do you dare lay a hand on me? If you so much as touch me, I'll... I'll immediately drop to the ground and frame you for everything I've got!"
Are these truly the words of a Grand Magister who has lived for a thousand years?
"..."
Hezekiah sighed silently once more. "Ulrons."
"I am here," the ethereal voice echoed from the empty air.
"Find a new location."
"As you command."
Golden light descended again, and a simple doorway took shape.
Hezekiah stepped through the gate and vanished in an instant.
Once Hezekiah was gone, Mela’s expression turned grave.
"Ulrons? I only took a nap, and yet his Sanctuary has already evolved to this level? The thousand-year accumulation of the Church is truly not to be underestimated."
Mela narrowed her eyes, as if sensing something.
"I see. Using the souls of the living to leverage the Authority of the dead, and then using the faith of the Goddess's believers as fuel to pay the exorbitant price.
A stroke of genius, much like my own. The one who truly shouldn't be underestimated... is you, Hezekiah."