The porter laughed deeply. "Yes, yes. Weak men don't make for a good festival."

"And women," Aurelian added, glancing away. The Strongman Festival was unique to Canen, but its impact was felt throughout the empire. Since a person’s class could often be hidden, the festival served as a way to rank and classify Sanguines, swordsmen from the Swordsmen Tower, or runaway freeblades. Winners or top performers were often granted titles of nobility, land, and wealth. In some cases, individuals were even given the right to govern overseas colonies, such as the Archipelago. Should I enter the festival? Aurelian pondered. I’ve failed to kill Putray—perhaps I should focus on growing stronger first. Yes, joining the festival could be a way to achieve that. I might even come into contact with the Misfortune Puppet Branch. Last time, I discovered that the Mind Worm is an incomplete branch, but the Puppet Branch has corresponding evolutions with mind abilities. If I can use that, I could switch branches.

Eventually, the cart turned onto a smaller road. Ahead was a statue, and beyond it lay the paths leading to Thales Market. On the left, another road branched off toward the Thales Cathedral. The statue in the center depicted a muscular man clad in bulky armor, holding an incense lantern dangling from an iron chain. A chaplain. Although Aurelian didn’t know this particular figure, he assumed it was a hero from the Annihilation Wars.

The cart took a left turn, and soon they arrived at Aurelian’s destination.

He stepped down from the cart.

"The fare is 15 ments," the porter said, bowing his head slightly.

Aurelian pulled out a few coins and handed them over, watching as the man departed.

He looked ahead.

A large structure loomed beside the road, its spire-like roof towering above numerous pillars. The stone walls were washed white and polished, reflecting the surroundings like a mirror. The building had a grand entrance guarded by two giant-like figures clad in pure white armor, with flag-like extensions stitched to their waists. These were the White-Blooded Knights. But they seem different—modified, perhaps? Or maybe it’s just the color that’s changed. Aurelian knew the White-Blooded Knights typically wore black armor with white lines running along certain joints. The change in color was likely for the Ministry.

Beside the cathedral stood a smaller, two-story building. Its roof was smashed, charred, and stained red. Workers and guardsmen moved around it, though no legionnaires were in sight. Despite the damage, the surrounding area seemed largely unaffected, though some individuals appeared frustrated—likely upset at being unable to withdraw their money from the White Bank.

Aurelian turned his gaze back to the blooded knights.

Approaching a wall, he activated his mind invisibility, which had long since cooled down. Despite this, he felt tense in the presence of the knights, unsure if his mind invisibility would be effective against them.

Pious worshippers, heads bowed, ascended the steps to the cathedral. The guards remained still, staring straight ahead with their eyeless faces. There are rumors that the White-Blooded Knights are one of the evolutions within the Pure White Ministry's branch, Aurelian thought, leaning against a white wall now stained with red dust.

Smoke began pouring out from the cathedral’s massive entrance as if the believers were walking into a wall of smoke and disappearing into something beyond. Aurelian observed calmly.

A figure emerged from the smoke, carrying a lantern attached to an iron chain that swayed gently. The smoke from the incense lantern seemed to follow him, flowing back into the cathedral as though guided by an invisible hand. The man wore a pure white robe and a silver, looped crown around his forehead, giving him a regal appearance. From Aurelian’s vantage point, the man seemed small, but as more people entered the cathedral, the sheer size difference became clear. Most didn’t even reach the man’s shoulders.

That must be the Bishop, Aurelian thought, lowering his head. He extended his palm as if in supplication, then retracted it and placed it on his chest—a symbolic gesture of the White Light Ministry. The open palm signified acceptance of the light while placing it on the chest indicated the heart had been purified. The hand could be placed on any part of the body to signify the purification of that specific area.

His hand lingered on his chest. What am I even expecting? He sighed inwardly. In the eyes of God, I’m likely already tainted. I’ve entered the astra—maybe I’m already becoming a mutant. His gaze dropped to the ground. What penance could ever wash that away? He looked back at the cathedral as if the answer lay hidden within its pristine white walls.

The Bishop towered over the people entering the building, his size comparable to that of the White-Blooded Knights. Although people of such size weren’t uncommon in this world, Aurelian dismissed his brief awe, reminding himself of the Bishop’s status.

Lost in thought, Aurelian suddenly sensed a gaze upon him. He turned, feeling a chill run down his spine. The Bishop stood at the cathedral entrance, fixing him with a stern look.

He can see me! Aurelian panicked. He knew the Bishop had to be an advanced class, if not special class. He had hoped to avoid detection by remaining still, at least until he heard part of the Ministry’s sermon. But to be discovered so quickly? Even the White-Blooded Knights hadn’t noticed him.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Frozen in place, Aurelian felt the Bishop's gaze continue to scrutinize him—this man could easily destroy him with a mere gesture. After what felt like an eternity, the Bishop looked away, focusing on the swaying incense lantern and the deep hums echoing through the entrance.

Aurelian broke into a cold sweat, panting heavily. Did the Bishop really not notice me? No, of course, he did. This is a Bishop...a Bishop of the Pure White Light—a god among men. He must have pardoned me.

Suddenly, a ringing sound filled his ears. He crouched, fingers pressed tightly into his ears, but the sound persisted. This is it! He thought, panicking. The Bishop has declared me profane. I’m tainted by the Astra, and this is my punishment. But I can’t die yet—not while Putray still lives.

Just then, a voice pierced through the ringing, echoing as though spoken by a hundred men at once. "How are you, old friend?" the voice boomed. "Pardon the sound, but Feathered Angels can only communicate like this. No need to remain hidden—I know your predicament, and I assure you, no harm will come to you within these walls." A pause followed. "Come inside and praise the light. The Bishop invites you."

The voice faded, and the ringing disappeared with it. Aurelian knelt on the cobblestone street, his hands still trembling from the shock. Did I just get invited...by the Bishop?

Although the voice had spoken as if it knew him, Aurelian had no memory of such a powerful ally. If he had known someone like that, his confrontation with Putray would have ended very differently.

Regardless, the invitation had been extended, and Aurelian had no choice but to accept.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the cathedral’s high stairs. As he met the towering Bishop’s gaze, the White-Blooded Knights remained motionless, not even acknowledging his presence, even after he deactivated his mind invisibility.

He approached the entrance, where a wall of smoke swirled, almost beckoning him inside. Beyond that lay the house of his God, his lord, and his savior. A faint smile tugged at his lips. Why am I remembering this now? Aurelian hadn’t always been a guardsman—he was once a common thug. That was before I met the White, he thought, a deep sense of reverence filling him.

He walked into the cathedral, feeling the sacred smoke curl through his body. It was serene, pure, and calming. He felt an urge to embrace the smoke, allowing the holy incense to cleanse him of his sins. But deep down, he resisted. What he truly wanted was not an easy redemption—he wished to carry his penance, to purify his soul through his own suffering. Only by shedding his own blood could he feel worthy to bask in the sun’s light again. He didn’t deserve the soft path; he sought the hard one.

The majesty of the Thales Cathedral unfolded before him. Vast as it should be, white as it must be, and sacred as it deserved to be.

The high ceiling was segmented into a series of domes, with slender spires extending down from the top. On either side of the roof were stained glass windows, though they were simple, displaying shades of white and bronze, like the walls. Stone pillars lined both sides of the cathedral, creating square sections in between, each housing intricate stained glass windows depicting scenes of the Pure White God. Rows of pews were arranged on both sides, leaving a wide aisle through the center.

At the altar stood the largest stained glass window, casting sacred white light into the room, as if the hands of God were gently touching the heads of the devout. On either side of the cathedral, White-Blooded Knights stood at attention, their presence imposing. On the podium, a young priest in white robes read from the silver Holy Book. The sheer size of the cathedral was such that even the tallest person barely stood halfway to the top of one of its towering pillars.

Different from the older designs, Aurelian thought. The previous designs for the Ministry’s cathedrals were typically two-story structures with a spiral staircase leading to an upper level. Clearly, there had been a change in the architecture, though it didn’t bother him.

With reverence, Aurelian found a seat on the left side of the cathedral. He breathed in the holy incense and listened intently to the words of God, letting the peace of the place wash over him.

The sermon soon ended, and heads bowed in prayer. Suddenly, a gentle tap came to his shoulder. He turned to see an imposing figure in white armor, its eyes as black as the deepest void. Is the Bishop finally asking for me? He stood, ready to move when the knight handed him a white cloth instead of speaking.

Aurelian stared at the cloth, quickly drawing conclusions. Silently, he took it and wrapped it around his eyes. Whether anyone would see this and think something of it didn’t matter; this was a known aspect of the Pure White religion. At certain points, people would be blindfolded and brought into a sacred room. Though he had never entered there himself, he knew it was a place for the healing of one's sins. Aurelian hoped that was where he was going.

With his vision impaired, he felt a hand grasp his—not the cold touch of metallic armor, but the soft warmth of a human hand. Calmly and obediently, Aurelian followed, holding back the urge to peer into the mind tendrils. After all, this was the Pure White Ministry; there were certainly things he could and couldn’t do here.

They walked for some time. I wonder what I should do before the Bishop? Aurelian thought, feeling a bit tense. No... I can’t be curt. Not that I had any plans to be.

He walked for what felt like an extended period, hearing creaks, clangs—bolts being opened and doors parting. He felt the wind of breath brush across his face as people passed by him. Maybe other priests?

"Where to?" a soft voice asked.

"Tome Vault," a deep, layered voice answered beside him. It was unmistakably the voice of a shard bearer in shard armor. The Tome Vault? I’m going to the Tome Vault? But... Aurelian was puzzled.

The Tome Vaults were something every ministry owned—a depository of knowledge, contracts, and laws accumulated throughout the empire. It was a place where scribes worked tirelessly to transcribe the knowledge of ages onto scrolls, protected by the strongest Sanguines under the ministries, with some shard bearers among them. This was the general understanding of Tome Vaults by the public, and this too was how Aurelian knew it.

Another thing he knew was that the Tome Vaults were said to be so massive they veiled the sun, stretching high like mountains. Surely, there was no place in Canen with such a size. The only location he could think of would be the hills west of the city, but that area was mainly occupied by forge factories, some keeps, and... the Pleasure Pavilion headquarters. Aurelian frowned slightly. Why were they even given such land?

After a while, a door creaked, and he was ushered in. Even though blindfolded, the scent was unmistakable. Books. The smell of dry wood and ancient parchment filled the air. Aurelian inhaled deeply, growing tense at the thought that he might be standing in the greatest archive of books held by the Pure White. Of course, he knew there wasn’t just one vault—there were numerous, and even the Pure White Ministry alone had around ten under their light.

Aurelian praised the Pure White God in his heart.