Morning.
At the Church, a group of believers stood in front of the door, their faces filled with worry, their eyes full of unease and confusion as they looked toward the entrance of the church.
As usual, by this time, the doors should have already been open, welcoming the faithful to come in and pray.
But now, it remained firmly shut, showing no sign of opening.
Outside, none of the believers dared to call out loudly, fearing they would disturb the sanctity of this place.
"Will the Saintess be alright?" At that moment, the believers began to whisper among themselves.
"I think she'll be fine. After all, she's the Saintess—the one who leads us to happiness."
"But… yesterday, I saw with my own eyes the Royal soldiers coming to take many things away."
"That's right, I also saw them carrying off chests of gold and many other valuable belongings."
"Damn it! Yesterday I even saw those soldiers take away the golden insignia—I tried to stop them, but they beat me up."
"Ah! So that's why your eye is bruised?"
"The Royal family really are bastards, garbage. Are they really trying to oppress our Church?"
"You know the Royal family sees the Church as a thorn in their side. How could they ever let us operate in peace?"
"Tsk! Those foolish Royals will surely be punished by the gods."
"Look… there—"
While everyone was talking animatedly, a royal carriage slowly approached.
Two snow-white horses pulled the carriage, and seated at the driver's bench was a beautiful maid with lovely hair.
The carriage itself was large, painted white and adorned with red and gold patterns, radiating the grandeur and solemnity of royalty.
"That is…"
"Shh! Quiet, that's Prince Lathel's carriage."
"Tsk! That useless bastard? What is he doing here?"
"Damn it! Shut up, do you want to die?"
"What are you afraid of? He's just a worthless fool. If he weren't a prince, he would've died long ago."
The crowd didn't stop—instead, their dissatisfaction became even more obvious as they continued to scorn and curse him.
The soldiers escorting and guarding Lathel's carriage frowned when they heard this, their sharp gazes as if they could kill the entire crowd of foolish believers.
However, they remembered Lathel's strict orders not to harm the believers.
The captain of the Royal Knights clicked his tongue, muttering, "Tsk! Stupid believers. You're lucky the Prince is a merciful man—otherwise, I would've cut your heads off long ago."
"Calm yourself." At that moment, Lathel's voice sounded from within the carriage.
The carriage door opened, and a young man—like a warm ray of morning sunlight—stepped out.
Lathel wore a white outfit, making him look like a crane standing among a flock of chickens.
He spoke softly, "They are, after all, just ordinary people. You cannot raise your sword against them."
"But… Your Highness, they dared to insult you, I—" The Captain of the Knights clenched his teeth in protest.
Lathel shook his head. "That's because they don't understand what I'm doing. I think… one day, they will."
The Captain, deeply moved by these words, dropped to one knee. "Your Highness, your kindness puts me to shame. But… those believers have gone mad because of their ugly faith."
"They do not know, and they will not accept your kindness, my Prince."
Lathel simply shook his head, not responding—just giving a gentle, warm smile.
The crowd of believers around him felt as if they had just been slapped in the face by Lathel.
They had hurled the harshest words at him, yet he responded with nothing but warmth and gentleness.
In fact, some among them, upon seeing that warm smile, began to question the rumors that had been circulating among the believers here.
Lathel moved forward, but the Captain immediately spoke up: "Your Highness! That place is full of zealots blinded by their faith, they could harm you."
He only smiled, said nothing, and continued walking.
The believers, though angry, suddenly flinched when they looked at Lathel, their eyes wide in surprise.
From Lathel, an overwhelming pressure radiated, making them feel fear.
The crowd began to move back, clearing a path for him.
With every step Lathel took, those present could feel as if an invisible force pressed down on their shoulders.
Lathel inwardly sneered: Looks like… the range of my Spatial power is quite impressive.
That's right—he was using his Spatial ability. There was no elaborate magic involved, just a slight increase in spatial density.
Yet the effect was far beyond his expectations.
The voices of the believers completely disappeared, replaced only by the sound of gritted teeth and labored breathing as they endured the pressure Lathel generated.
He approached the front door of the Church and called out softly, "Saintess, I need to speak with you. Please open the door."
A moment later, the door opened, and Viviane appeared—her face cold, her eyes sharp as blades.
"What are you here for?" Viviane frowned.
She was still as beautiful as ever, but now her face was marked by utter exhaustion and disappointment.
"Saintess!"
"Saintess! At last, our Saintess has appeared!"
"We were really worried about you, Saintess."
"Don't worry, Saintess—we'll protect you."
"That's right. For the Saintess, we'd gladly die."
"Kill him!" Suddenly, someone shouted from the crowd, causing the believers to grow even more agitated and chaotic.
A shadowy figure appeared, wielding a longsword, and charged toward Lathel.
"Not good! Protect the Prince!" The Knight Captain saw what was happening, his eyes about to burst from their sockets.
He used every ounce of strength to rush toward Lathel.
However, the distance was too great—he could only watch as the attacker swung their sword at Lathel.
In that instant, Viviane was startled, her mind went blank, eyes wide in shock, but her body was frozen, unable to move.
She had only wanted her believers to berate Lathel a little, nothing more.
After all, he was the Prince, and her church operated within this kingdom—if anything happened to him, the consequences would be dire.
"No! Stop! Stop now!" Viviane shouted, her eyes now blood-red with panic.
The crowd was also stunned. Even though they'd insulted Lathel, he was still the Prince—no matter how many lives they had, none would dare harm him.
Yet the shadowy figure swung the sword toward Lathel.
Whoosh!
The blade sliced through the air and came down—blood splattered everywhere.
Lathel collapsed to the ground, blood covering his body, turning his white clothing a crimson red.
"AAA!!" A furious scream rang out.
The Captain swung his greatsword at the shadowy figure.
KENG!
The sound of clashing metal echoed out. The attacker was forced back several steps.
Now the Captain could see it was a woman, but she was dressed like a church follower.
Her face was completely covered by a black scarf, making it impossible to discern her identity.
She leapt back, then vanished into the chaos of the crowd.
"Run! Hurry!"
"AH! Run! The Prince is dead!"
"You fools, are you insane? Why did you kill the Prince?"
"Damn it! What's the point of arguing? Just run!"
"Damn it! Stop these idiotic believers—no one is to leave!" the Captain roared.
The other knights immediately surrounded the entire church, spears and swords pointed at the terrified crowd.
"No! Don't kill me! I'm not a believer!" a man cried in terror, running toward the knights.
But…
Whoosh!
A cold spear pierced the man's chest, blood soaking the black robe that marked him as a church follower.
"Pfff!" He coughed up a mouthful of blood, eyes turning to Viviane as he muttered, "Saintess… save… save me…"
Whoosh!
The knight pulled the spear out, blood spraying like a fountain.
Thud!
That man collapsed to the ground, and even in death, his eyes remained wide open, fixed on Viviane.
Viviane trembled violently, her lips quivering as if she wanted to say something, but the words caught in her throat, unable to form a sound.
The other followers, witnessing this scene, were paralyzed by fear, not daring to move a muscle.
"Kneel down!" the Captain roared. "Anyone who dares to move—kill them!"
He was so furious that his face was flushed red, as if about to burst into flames.
Hearing his commanding and ruthless voice, the crowd immediately dropped to their knees, not daring to stir.
The Captain came over to Lathel's side, and upon seeing his pale face and the blood streaming out, he grew frightened.
"Prince, hang in there, I'll save you." The Captain tried to reassure Lathel as he lifted him onto his back.
He carried Lathel to the carriage and then took the reins himself.
Before leaving, he shouted, "Keep all these bastards here—no one is allowed to leave without my order!"
His gaze flicked to Viviane, who was trembling on the ground, and he clenched his teeth, spitting out each word: "Saintess, you've done very well."
"If anything happens to the Prince, I… will make sure you die a miserable death."
With that, he drove the carriage away like a gust of wind.
Viviane trembled and stammered, "Why? Why… did everything turn out like this?"
"Why?"
And then… she suddenly fainted, collapsing onto the ground.
The crowd saw Viviane pass out, but none dared to risk helping her.
Even if they were her most loyal followers, their own lives were far more precious to them.
On the watchtower of the Church, a woman dressed in white robes, her face hidden behind a mask, stood with a white lily in hand.
Yes, it was Elisova.
She had witnessed everything that had just happened. Waving the white lily in her hand, she murmured, "Such a strange note. This symphony… seems to be getting a little chaotic."