His voice grew increasingly fervent, the crowd erupted in thunderous agreent.
"Long live Emperor Saint Baldo! Long live the Cerryti Empire!"
The people of Cerryti shouted in unison, over and over again.
The applause was prolonged, Emperor Saint Baldo raised his hand to greet the people.
The sound slowly cald once more.
Everyone knew that at this mont, one of the day's most important ceremonies—the Ceremony of Blessings by the Twelve War Gods—was about to take place in the sacred Cret morial Square.
The bells that had already rung finished their echo, but now they tolled twelve additional chis, slowly, as the doors of the Divine Descendant Cathedral at the side of Cret morial Square began to open.
Those doors were another entrance to the imperial army headquarters' "Divine Descendant Hall," a symbolic ancient architectural relic preserved by the Cerryti Empire for years.
Within the great doorway of the Divine Descendant Cathedral, golden glimrs of light erged, practically illuminating the entire square.
The people held their breath, their eyes fixed on the doors, waiting for the legendary Twelve War Gods to appear.
Before long.
A young man with indigo-colored hair hurriedly dashed out, his smile radiating as he waved to the crowd.
He seed to have lagged slightly, likely supposed to appear earlier but reminded by the other War Gods. His reaction resulted in more of a quick jog.
His tall and slender figure was adorned with a wing-like cape, draped lightly, shimring with intertwined pale blue and white glimrs as if fragnts torn from the clouds from heaven. The ends of the cape resembled angelic feathers. Every soft breeze lifting it made people mistake it for signs of flight, complenting his airy, unbound steps and his feather-like natural grace.
The youth's vibrant face radiated energy and vitality, his indigo-colored short hair gleaming under the sunlight, its strands dancing with the wind.
He was none other than the First Army God, Hesintos of the Diamond Throne.
"Look! It's Lord Hesintos, the First War God!"
"He looks so young, so handso, so full of life!"
"And a little cute, too—what should we do?"
The crowd bubbled with excitent, particularly the girls, their voices gathering into an audible wave that perhaps even carried across to the square where Hesintos stood.
Hesintos paused mid-step, turned toward the people, and bowed deeply.
Suddenly, the square grew notably quieter.
Seconds later, the enthusiasm reignited even louder.
Hesintos refrained from lingering contacts or exchanges with the crowd.
His humble and earnest salutation alone exceeded the potency of any words.
He took his position under the Diamond Throne at the heart of Cret morial Square, patiently waiting for the other War Gods to arrive.
Behind the Divine Descendant Cathedral's door.
Another figure stepped out.
His steps were steadier than Hesintos's, neither hurried nor sluggish, utterly unbothered by the atmosphere or sounds on the square, walking entirely at his own rhythm.
The man carried an imperial sword with a black blade, dressed in cloth armor, his long jet-black hair tied high into a ponytail.
His arrival seed to freeze the air around him, an icy presence instantaneously lowering the temperature in the square.
The commotion of the square quickly cald itself; no one dared make a fuss in the presence of this War God, whose bearing was entirely opposite from Hesintos's.
He stationed himself at the Obsidian Throne.
Standing firm, holding his sword, eyes closed but slightly opened, his sharp gaze focused solely on Hesintos standing beside him.
The crowd recognized the second War God, Salon of the Obsidian Throne, and resud their whispers.
"That's General Salon, the Empire's undefeated First Sword Master."
"Even other War Gods couldn't stand against him—we're told he finds being a War God rather boring, his life a constant search for worthy challengers."
"Stop talking about him... hush now!"
The murmurs didn't last very long.
The Third War God, Gaiat of the Seat of Entwining Agate, stepped out.
The people acknowledged, despite Gaiat possessing overwhelming power nearly unmatched even by the Cardinal Bishops of the Rebirth Church, there remained an unmistakable gap between him and the Second War God Black Obsidian Salon; Salon wouldn't even deign to challenge him.
Gaiat, clad in an ink-black robe and wielding an intricate chanical agate rod, had a coldly handso face and indifferent eyes under the winter sky, his expression flickering with an arrogance that seed to dismiss all living beings beneath him.
"Hmph."
Gaiat snorted in disdain at the murmurs of the crowd, moving to take his position by the Seat of Entwining Agate.
"Oh, don't be so grumpy, Gaiat. There aren't many stronger than you in this world, save for a handful of exceptions."
The Fourth War God, Jasper of the Jade Throne, teased gently, her semi-smiling expression speaking to her attempt to comfort Gaiat.
Unlike Gaiat's overwhelming dominance, Jasper stood as an equal against the leading Bishops of the Rebirth Church in direct combat—still imnse, though lacking Gaiat's pressing superiority.
Standing at a towering height of 1.8 ters, Jasper's stature was no less than any male War God, her jet-black hair efficiently tied at the back of her head.
The crowd's attention, though, was focused on her chanical eye—an aspect all too fascinating.
Not only was she the Empire's strongest chanist, but faint traces of personal modifications were also visible on her body.
"That's Lady Jasper!"
"As expected of the Jade Throne—her eyes, one as gentle as autumn waters, the other sharp as winter's frost, truly unique."
The crowd reignited in fervent conversation surrounding the Empire's leading chanical pioneer.
Compared to the other War Gods who preceded her, Jasper clearly held a much better temperant; the people discussing her didn't irritate her much, as she acknowledged their chatter with a smile.
She took her position at the Jade Throne in Cret morial Square and stood united alongside Hesintos, Salon, and Gaiat—the four of them like towering, immovable mountains whose re presence inspired awe from the citizens of Cerryti.
"Ah, what a headache. A doctor like has to attend such an event every single year... "
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