A subtle complaint drifted out from the corner of his mouth.
A doctor clad in a simple white coat strolled leisurely out of the Divine Descendant Cathedral.
Beneath his silver-white short hair was a smiling face with squinted eyes; though he grumbled, it didn't seem to truly bother him.
Even on such a solemn occasion, he carried an ornate dark-golden dical case strapped to his back.
It was his indispensable tool, and also his responsibility.
"Because the sacred blessing ceremony for the Imperial Army God traditionally does not impose restrictions regarding the gods' attire, they may appear in their favored battlefield garb, which occasionally results in strong figures like Doctor Lugayard."
"Don't be fooled by appearances—he is the Fifth War God, the Seat of Mica. His very presence serves as a redy for hearts in doubt."
Lugayard stopped before the Seat of Mica. Hearing the murmurs of the crowd, he smiled softly and nodded in acknowledgnt.
His gaze swept across the people, as though verifying each individual's health.
"It's the High Priest of Shuicang Jade!"
"The Moon God High Priest!"
Reverent exclamations filled the air, heralding the arrival of the next War God.
The Sixth War God, Shuicang Jade Violet, stepped into view.
She looked to be in her thirties, exuding an indescribable mature allure; her deep indigo hair shimred under the midday sun with a rich, profound radiance, accentuating her skin that glead like fine lamb-fat jade. Beneath her arched brows lay a pair of violet eyes as clear as spring water, holding an elusive storm within, daring none to stare too long.
Violet heard the crowd's voices, and a gentle, graceful smile curved at her lips.
Stopping at the Seat of Aqua Jade, she turned to face the people and perford a flawless priestly salute.
The gesture instantly silenced the crowd, everyone captivated by her elegance.
"So beautiful."
"The Moon God High Priest is unmatched!"
"The principal is the best!"
The citizens of Brilda erupted in excitent once more, and students from Saint Kray Temple scattered among the crowd eagerly shared tales of Violet's legendary deeds.
A few seconds passed.
The arrival of the Seventh War God, Blood Jade Marrow Philip, brought a stark change to the atmosphere in the plaza.
Fireballs seed to shoot forth from the Divine Descendant Cathedral, crashing into the plaza's center, erupting into deafening roars and sky-high flas.
Through the flas, Philip's figure began to erge.
He was clad in dark red heavy armor, his blood-red cloak billowing wildly in the wind.
Philip strode forward, surrounded by sweltering currents of heat that warped the air as if it might combust at any mont.
The crowd exchanged uncertain glances, unsure how to respond.
As soon as Philip stepped onto the Blood Jade Marrow Seat, the Eighth War God, Zercon of the Radiant Gold Stone Seat, followed closely behind.
Appearing around forty, Zercon possessed a physique more robust than anyone else.
Conzel's brows radiated unyielding righteousness, his sharp gaze hawk-like in intensity. Towering at two ters, he wore chanical plate armor crafted from the pinnacle of Imperial Magical Engineering. His wrists were encased in thick tal, seamlessly fused to his skin, with intricate chanical systems faintly visible beneath.
His re presence restored the plaza's lively yet calm mood—symbolic of Conzel's steadfast reliability as the Shield of Cret.
Behind Conzel, an enigmatic figure had silently entered the square unnoticed.
With a perfectly chiseled face and upright posture, his short deep-purple hair was neatly slicked back. He wore a pristine military dress uniform adorned with shoulder and sleeve tassels of shining gold, refining his image into one of great dignity.
His erald-green eyes were calm yet sharp, like an unfathomable lake holding faint glimpses of piercing light, deterring any prolonged stares.
The crowd erupted into a buzz once more upon recognizing Ninth War God Ryan.
Most voices were filled with praise.
Marquis Ryan Roland's military achievents and impeccable conduct rarely faced criticism. Though nobility, he carried no airs of entitlent; instead, he was known for strict self-discipline and generous tolerance toward others.
Ryan nodded subtly, expressing his gratitude for the crowd's reception.
"Ugh, so noisy."
Behind him, the Tenth War God, Julius of the Red Tourmaline Seat, clicked his tongue and stomped straight toward the blessing ceremony area.
The youngest among the War Gods, Julius had tousled short, dark-red hair. Dressed in his family's military uniform, he had donned a rarely used necktie and decorative accessories for the occasion.
"Oh, don't sulk now, Julius. What a wonderful day this is."
A faint sandalwood fragrance, odd for the public square, wafted by as the Eleventh War God, Simon Luo of the Erald Seat, stepped up beside Julius.
Simon had a gentle and refined countenance, his pale-gold priest robes embroidered with intricate erald-green floral patterns. His silver eyes seed to perceive all of existence, harboring boundless wisdom and compassion.
"Yes, Julius, cheer up!"
Twelfth War God Bianca, of the Cat's Eye Seat, darted in to pat Simon Luo's shoulder before swiftly overtaking him to give Julius a friendly pat as well.
"How do you all manage to stay in such good spirits?"
Julius turned back in astonishnt, not truly angry but lightly peeved. He wasn't foolish—a prickly personality notwithstanding, his relationships with most of the War Gods were rather solid.
As the Empire's sole Orc War God, Bianca's feline ears and long tail always drew particular attention.
Her vibrant orange hair cascaded over her shoulders, while her forest-green leather armor accentuated her finely sculpted curves.
The trio chatted informally but cheerfully, gradually arriving at their respective sacred gemstone seats to await the ceremony.
Twelve War Gods, like twelve gleaming blades, stood resolute in the wind.
They were now assembled in full.
The square fell silent.
Reviews
All reviews (0)