The grand hall of the Church of Solis stood at the heart of the imperial capital of one the most powerful human empires, an architectural testament to both divine reverence and mortal ambition. Its vaulted ceiling arched high and large chandeliers hung from it, the stone ribs disappearing into layers of decorative pieces and softly glowing sigils were embedded within the structure itself to strengthen it. 

Stained glass windows rose like towering murals along the walls, each depicting scenes of saints, martyrs, and holy battles of the past, their colors shifting when viewed from different angles as ambient light flowed through them. Beneath those towering windows, rows of marble columns carved with sacred statues of angels stretched into its length, giving the entire hall the impression of a sanctified hall rather than a mere chamber.

At the center of the hall, dominating the polished floor was the summoning circle.

It spanned nearly thirty meters in diameter, its complex geometry carved directly into the stone and filled with inlaid high grade mana stones that glowed faintly even while not in use. Dozens of concentric rings interlocked with each other, each bearing sigils and runes too intricate for ordinary priests to even decipher. Some were divine invocations, others were spatial anchors, and several were containment seals meant to restrain whatever might emerge if they were hostile.

Standing around its perimeter were some of the most powerful figures in the mortal religious hierarchy.

Several Popes, each representing one of the major churches of The Order, stood in ceremonial robes adorned with holy symbols unique to their respective gods. Their expressions ranged from solemn to anticipatory, though none dared to let their true emotions show too openly. Behind them stood Cardinals, bishops, and high-ranking priests, each aware that they were about to witness something that would ripple across the entire continent.

They had all been contacted by their respective gods. And it was not through dreams, or cryptic visions, but through direct divine projections of their gods, this type of communication method was only used when something of monumental importance was about to take place.

Such as summoning of otherworlders.

Long ago, there had been one such being, a summoned hero who had appeared like a miracle when the world was drowning in a war with demons. That single individual had altered the course of history, driving back an invasion that had seemed impossible to stop. For centuries, his story had been told as a holy parable, carefully curated and edited by the churches to emphasize obedience, faith, and divine favor.

Now, the gods were telling them that it would not be one but multiple heroes.

What the Popes did not know was that this time the gods were being far more careful. Where once they had granted overwhelming power to a single champion and lost control of him, they would now distribute lesser gifts across multiple individuals, turning them into weapons that were powerful, but leashed thus could be controlled easily.

Even so, those weapons would still surpass any mortal currently walking Thyrandel.

The Popes, Cardinals and Priests waited patiently for the otherworlders to arrive from the divine realm. As they would be first summoned there to receive their gifts and then sent here. The hall was silent as hundreds of people held their breath at once and waited for the heroes to arrive. 

The Cardinals whispered prayers under their breath. Some clasped holy relics, others traced divine sigils across their chests. Even among those who served gods daily, the summoning of heroes was not something one could witness casually.

Then, without warning, the summoning circle started to glow.

At first, it was only a faint glow, thin lines of light threading through the grooves of the sigils like veins filling with blood. That glow intensified steadily, growing brighter and more saturated, until the entire circle radiated with hues of gold, white, and pale blue light. The air above it began to ripple and warp slightly.

A deep vibration resonated through the hall, and several priests instinctively stepped back, their instincts screaming that something unnatural was happening. What they were feeling was the pressure of the Divine realm imposed upon them.

Light exploded upward like a pillar, shooting toward the ceiling before collapsing inward on itself, folding into a dense nexus of divine energy. For a brief moment, it was impossible to see anything within that column of light.

Then the light receded and when it faded, ten figures stood where nothing had been before.

They looked young, some of them still looked like they were school students, their expressions were alert but not panicked, while others appeared closer to adulthood. They were of different ethnicities, a few wore jeans and hoodies, one even wore what looked like a school uniform.

They looked out of place among the people surrounding them who were wearing ceremonial robes. As these kinds of dresses were not something the people of this world are familiar with.

The contrast between their clothing and the sanctified grandeur of the hall made them appear like they were out of this world, which was the reality.

Some looked around cautiously, while others stared with wide eyes. A few whispered to each other in low voices. But none of them were looking confused as they had already been told by the gods what they needed to do.

A tall Pope with a sun-shaped crest embroidered over his chest stepped forward, his robes sliding softly across the marble. His face was composed, and his expression carried practiced serenity, though a flicker of curiosity passed through his eyes as he studied them.

“Greetings, otherworlders,” he said, his voice echoing gently through the chamber, supported by subtle amplification spells to reach everyone’s ears. “By now, you must be aware of your purpose.”

He paused deliberately and watched their faces. Seeing everyone nodding, the Pope continued, “Our world is currently under invasion by demons from another realm. Innocent people die every day as they burn cities and villages.” 

A few of the otherworlders had faces filled with righteous fury which made the popes satisfied. “We don’t have the luxury of time to let you explore this place so your training would start immediately tomorrow.”

There was a faint murmur among the summoned. Some of them straightened while others exchanged glances.

They all understood him perfectly, even though he was speaking in the liturgical tongue of Arkanis which they were not familiar with. The skill [All Speak] transmitted their meaning directly into their minds, removing all linguistic barriers as if they had never existed.

One of the young men stepped forward. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp eyes and an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. He looked older than the rest, likely near twenty, and his posture carried authority that suggested he was used to being listened to.

“Mr.,” he said, his voice loud enough to carry through the hall, “I don’t think we need your training.”

The Pope’s eyes narrowed slightly. Then the young man lifted his hand and crackling arcs of lightning coalesced around his fingers, wrapping his palm in a halo of blue-white.

“We’re already more than equipped to deal with a few demons.”

A few of the other summoned shifted uneasily and thought that the man was acting too impulsively.

The Pope studied him for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled seeing the scene before him. He and the others had expected the otherworlders to be overconfident after receiving gifts from their gods.

“We will see,” he then replied curtly.

With a slight gesture of his hand, a squad of armored church soldiers stepped forward, their movements were disciplined and silent as they bowed respectfully toward the Popes before turning toward the summoned youths.

“Please follow them,” the Pope said. “Your accommodations have already been prepared.”

The arrogant young man snorted seeing the Pope’s attitude, the lightning dissipating as he turned away and followed the soldiers without another word.

One by one, the others followed. When the last of them had exited the hall, the massive doors slowly sealed shut.

…

The heavy doors of the grand summoning hall closed behind as the last of the priests departed in different directions, each burdened by their own thoughts about what had just transpired, a reminder of the impossible event that had unfolded only minutes earlier.

Pope St. Linus, the representative of the Church of the Goddess of Light, moved with dignified composure as he entered his carriage. His posture remained straight, but there was a tension in his expression that had not been there before. He had lived long enough to recognize when history was shifting, and the arrival of ten otherworlders at once was not something that could be dismissed casually.

The carriage doors had barely closed when his attendant slipped inside, bowing deeply before straightening.

“Your Holiness,” the man said quietly, careful not to let his voice carry beyond the carriage walls, “there is an urgent message for you.”

St. Linus frowned faintly thinking what could be so important. He had not expected any immediate correspondence, not after such an exhausting and politically charged event. Still, he extended his hand without hesitation.

“What is it?” he asked.

The attendant produced a sealed scroll. And the moment Linus saw the sigil embedded into the wax, he understood who sent it.

“Cardinal Rubio…” he murmured.

After breaking a magical seal Linus unrolled the parchment and began to read. As his eyes scanned the lines, his brows drew closer together.

“So that is the situation,” he said quietly.

He leaned back into the cushioned seat, pressing two fingers against his temple. Cardinal Rubio was not a man prone to exaggeration, and the tone of the letter made it clear that this was not mere speculation.

From the letter it looks like the fugitive had a powerful background which might be even stronger than a small kingdom. He had once heard about Avalon and the products they were selling were far beyond the standards of Thyrandel, and he even knew they had a Sage rank expert with them.

And the ruler was not only unafraid of the Church, but was willing to threaten its envoys outright.

Linus exhaled slowly. There were rumors about Avalon, of course but due to the war with the Demons they hadn’t paid much attention to this new party until now.

He also had the suspicion that whoever the lord of Avalon was, they were not from this world as the things they were selling were way ahead of its time, though he was not sure about his speculation. 

And from what Rubio had written, the fugitive or Avalon had not directly harmed the Church, nor disrupted its operations. If anything, this pursuit was rooted in the death of a noble, hardly justification for risking a diplomatic incident with a power of unknown origin.

“And if Avalon truly is backed by forces beyond this world…” Linus muttered, his fingers tightening slightly.

After a long moment, he reached into his spatial ring and retrieved a blank scroll and a quill that appeared in his hand as he began to write orders for Cardinal Rubio.

When he finished, he sealed the scroll with his own mark. A few moments later, the attendant exited the carriage and approached a knight waiting near the roadside. The knight bowed, secured the scroll within his spatial ring, and departed immediately, heading toward Brightwater with haste.

St. Linus leaned back once more, staring at the ceiling of his carriage.

“The world is changing,” he murmured. “And not in ways we can control.”

***

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