In the dreamscape, Julian found himself enveloped by softness. Opening his eyes, he lay amidst a field of flowers, surrounded by countless blossoms of vibrant colors. With a puzzled gaze, Julian slowly rose, looking around several tis, yet there was no sign of human presence.
Like a mirage, Julian felt a sense of unreality.
If he rembered correctly, he should be undergoing the awakening ritual. Had he fallen asleep?
So, was he currently daydreaming?
"Ah..." A sudden prickling sensation ca from his left eye. Julian covered it, instinctively feeling imnse fear.
His right eye was a flower, unable to perceive anything from his perspective, perfectly aligning with the concept of ’incompleteness’. In such a situation, he naturally treasured his left eye imnsely and feared it being hard.
Losiya’s words echoed in his mind: "The so-called Holy Mark awakening ritual is a process of rebirth. Endure it, and it will pass."
As this thought flashed, anomalies began to occur around him. The originally beautiful and serene Holy Realm transford like a dark fairy tale, instantly tearing away its beautiful facade to reveal its eerie, sinister nature.
The flower thicket surrounding him suddenly began to grow wildly. Two strong vines sprouted from Julian’s feet, wrapping around his ankles and climbing upwards. At the sa ti, a vine striking from behind directly encircled his waist, harshly pulling him to the ground. Others followed suit, and Julian’s limbs completely lost control. He fell to the ground, yet inexplicably felt no fear.
Perhaps it was his illusion, but he felt that everything here held no malice towards him, which also led to the previous ’binding’ action feeling incredibly gentle. When he was pulled to the ground, sothing even propped him up behind, as if fearing he would be hurt.
The sweet scent of flowers wafted into his nostrils. Julian struggled to understand what Losiya ant by ’rebirth,’ and could only wait in silence.
"Has it finally arrived?" A gentle, lodious voice sounded by his ear.
Then, a figure stood before Julian, unclothed, with snow-white hair reaching her ankles. Her prominent, plump, rosy breasts stood out, and the curves of her waist and hips were beautifully alluring, full and graceful. However, in his nearly blind state, Julian could not clearly see the other person’s face, only roughly perceiving this goddess-like attitude. She slowly bent down, crouching beside Julian, and reached out to touch his face.
"Now, let bestow upon you the highest ’Life’."
Cupping Julian’s face, she slowly leaned in.
"Who exactly are you..."
"Has no one taught you that a boy just needs to lie still?" she said, displeased.
Pressing down on Julian’s shoulders, she slowly sat down. The soft, snow-like sensation from where her body touched him directly left him unable to muster any strength to resist.
After a long sigh, the fragrance of the flower thicket grew even more potent.
A woman in a platinum robe stood calmly at the highest point of the tall tower. Her faint gaze was fixed on the distant horizon. She had stood there for a long ti, every day the sa, no one knowing what she was looking at or thinking.
"Your Holiness, it’s late at night," a maid whispered beside her. At the sa ti, she bowed her head, not daring to et the woman’s eyes.
"A Holy Son has descended upon the continent..." The woman, referred to as His Holiness, suddenly said slowly.
Silence. After a period of ti, there was still silence. The maids waiting on the tall tower knelt on the ground behind the woman, devoutly praying for sothing.
"Have the people from the Heretic Arbitration Bureau investigate, as quickly as possible."
The person who received the order shivered. A Holy Son had descended, but these lunatics from the Heretic Arbitration Bureau were to intervene? What was His Holiness thinking?
"Any other questions?" the woman pressed.
"None! I’ll arrange it imdiately." A Church bishop, highly respected throughout the entire continent, was as lowly as a dog in front of this woman, not daring to entertain any thought or action contrary to her wishes.
"You may all withdraw." After the previous person left, the woman waved her hand, and the maids who had been prostrate on the ground perford their bows and left.
Under the quiet night, she still stood on the tall tower’s balcony, as if lingering over sothing precious.
"Little..."
After a faint sigh, the woman suddenly felt a chill throughout her body. The lingering tenderness from earlier vanished without a trace. After a brief mont of alertness, she recognized who was standing behind her, and only then did she drop her defensive posture, unable to help but chuckle.
"Myris, as a Holy Maiden of the Church, I believe I taught you not to stand silently behind others. It’s very impolite."
Behind the woman, the girl called Myris slowly erged. She also had long silver-white hair and wore the most noble platinum clothing of the Church. What was most striking was that the girl’s long hair had clearly been carefully combed, yet she intentionally used a strand of hair on her forehead to cover her left eye, as if deliberately concealing sothing.
"Your Holiness, I wish to leave for a period of ti."
The woman was startled, then imdiately understood what the other party intended to do, and directly said without hesitation: "No."
"Why?"
"There is no why. The matter you spoke to about was impossible to agree to in the first place."
"Oh..."
Watching the girl feign innocence with an "Oh," the woman, for once, felt overwheld. This seemingly shrewd girl, the flawless Holy Maiden in the eyes of the world, was essentially a rock-like girl. This was not praise; the woman described Myris this way because the other party’s temper was as stubborn and unyielding as a rock, making it impossible to persuade her through communication. Once she made up her mind, she would stubbornly carry it out to the very end.
"Myris, talk to about other things once you’ve mastered your ’Judgnt,’ otherwise, everything is off the table." The woman decisively chose a roundabout tactic. To deal with this rock-like little girl, she only needed to set a condition, and the other party would obediently comply. Thinking of this, her heart felt heavy. She had never had her own bloodline, and Myris, in her eyes, was simply like a daughter. Her dignified position as the Church’s Holy See felt, at tis, like that of a single mother. Who else but Myris would listen to her requests?
However, after she stated her condition, Myris hesitated for a mont and then directly revealed her left eye, which had been hidden by her long hair. Sacred golden eyes, with cross-shaped pupils, looked eerily divine under the moonlight. The woman looked at the stable gaze in those eyes, joy she could hardly suppress.
"Myris, you..."
"Mother, I beg you," Myris said expressionlessly.
This "Mother" truly struck a chord in the woman’s hardened heart, touching its deepest, softest part. She let out a helpless sigh, stepped forward, stroked Myris’s hair, and remained noncommittal.
Myris finally showed a hint of a smile, the corners of her lips curving into a satisfied line.
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