The peaceful moment in the workshop shattered.

A deafening BOOM-BOOM echoed through the chamber, so powerful the metal floor vibrated under their feet. It wasn’t a gentle knock, but a powerful demand. It hit the door with an unquestionable authority.

Jonah and Vanessa jumped, their heads snapping toward the entrance, their brief moment of triumph vanishing like smoke. Sylva, the gentle creature of peace, let out a soft, distressed sound, a low hum of fear. It took a half-step back, trying to hide its graceful form behind Jonah, its calming aura wavering for the first time

“Jonah, we have company!” Seraph’s voice crackled through the intercom system again, sharp and urgent, stripped of all its usual calm. “The Holy Church. They’re here in force, and they’re demanding entry!”

A cold fear, more intense than any he had felt facing a monster, hit Jonah square in the chest. He rushed to the reinforced observation window and looked down carefully, his heart pounding in his ears

The sight stole his breath.

The Academy’s main grounds were no longer a peaceful place of learning. They had been transformed into a military encampment. Fifty Temple Knights, dressed in polished silver armor that gleamed brightly in the morning sun, had formed an unbreachable perimeter around the base of his workshop spire. They stood like statues of faith and steel, their hands resting on the hilts of their blessed swords, their collective presence an overwhelming and silent threat.

At their head, standing at the main entrance to the spire, was a tall, imposing man in ornate white and gold robes. Even from this distance, Jonah could feel the power radiating from him—an aura of unshakeable conviction. It was the kind of certainty that could build cathedrals or burn heretics and see no difference between the two.

High Inquisitor Theron.

“What do they want?” Vanessa whispered, her face pale as she looked down at the scene.

As if in answer, the comms in Jonah’s ear crackled to life, patching him directly into a high-level channel. He heard the powerful voice of the Headmaster, laced with a cold anger.

“Inquisitor Theron, this is a clear breaking of the Academy’s independence. You have no authority here.”

A different voice replied, deep and powerful like a sermon. It was Theron.

“A huge amount of life magic, powerful enough to be sensed even at the Grand Cathedral, just exploded from this spire, Headmaster. It was a miracle that was not allowed.”

Jonah’s blood ran cold. They felt it all the way in the capital?

“The Church,” Theron’s voice continued, leaving no room for argument, “has a sacred duty to investigate such an event. We must determine if its source is divine… or demonic.”

The Headmaster’s voice was like ice. “Our research is a private matter. I will not have you harassing my students.”

“To create life from nothing without the blessing of the Faith is an act of supreme heresy,” Theron shot back instantly. His words were a perfectly crafted political trap, and Jonah could feel the jaws of it closing. “To refuse my investigation is to imply you have something to hide. I am sure the Royal Council would be very interested to hear about the Academy’s secretive and potentially dangerous experiments. A full ecclesiastical inquiry could be… disruptive to your standing, and to your funding.”

Jonah listened, the knot in his stomach tightening. The Headmaster was caught. If he refused, the Academy would look guilty, sparking a political war with the most powerful religious institution in the nation. If he agreed, he would be letting a wolf into his henhouse.

The Church, Jonah realized with dawning horror, wasn’t like the Bureau. The Bureau wanted him as a weapon, an asset to be controlled. The Church… they would see him as a saint to be worshipped or a devil to be destroyed. There was no in-between. Hiding now would only make him look guilty. It would make the beautiful, innocent creature standing behind him look like an abomination he was trying to conceal.

He had to face this. He had to own what he had created.

He took a deep breath, making a decision that felt heavier than any he’d made in battle. He pressed the comm button on his collar.

“Seraph,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady. “Let them in.”

There was a moment of shocked silence on the other end. “Jonah, are you sure?” Seraph’s voice was a low, worried hiss.

“He wants to see what I made,” Jonah said, his gaze settling on Sylva, who nudged his hand gently, sensing his resolve. “Hiding will only make him think the worst.” He took another breath. “Let them in. But only him. Let him see.”

Another pause. Then, a single, crisp word from Seraph. “Understood.”

Down below, the ranks of the Temple Knights parted with a soft CLANG of armored feet stepping aside, creating a clear path to the spire’s entrance. High Inquisitor Theron, his expression a mask of grim duty, began his deliberate walk.

Jonah’s heart pounded against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the sudden silence of the workshop.

“Jonah, what are you going to do?” Vanessa asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“I’m going to show him the truth,” Jonah replied, his hand resting on Sylva’s smooth, wooden flank. “I’m going to show him the promise I kept.”

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, each one a hammer blow of approaching judgment.

CLOMP. CLOMP. CLOMP.

The workshop door hissed open.

SWOOOSH.

High Inquisitor Theron strode into the room. He was even more imposing up close, a towering figure of faith and power. His eyes, burning with a righteous, fanatical fire, swept over the complex machinery of the Synthesis Loom, his lip curling in distaste at the sight of such arcane science.

His hand rested on the golden hilt of the blessed sword at his hip, his thumb stroking it gently. He was ready to pass judgment, ready to cleanse whatever abomination he found in holy fire.

Then, his burning gaze finally landed on Jonah. And on the graceful creature that stood beside him.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep