The Church of Light had once again produced a God's Favored One, and from the Angel of War at that—the warlike and cruel deity who had never cast his eyes upon any believer throughout the history of the Church.
This was an event sufficient to shake the entire Church, and even the whole continent!
"Humph." A low sound echoed from afar, carrying a spatial vibration. Wood and Hughes coincidentally covered their ears in unison, feeling as if their eardrums were about to burst; they bent over in pain, their faces grimacing.
The red color gradually faded, and the yellow color also dissipated; the pressure in the air lessened. Those nine pillars of light rotated, shrank, and hovered above Alex's head like a flaming crown.
The Manager also fell out from within the halo, the giant sword vanishing. The Manager rolled awkwardly a few times on the cold stone floor before he could stop, gasping for breath.
Alex opened his hand; the small knuckle bone belonging to Elias was emitting a faint, warm, and familiar light.
Alex understood that those nine halos did not originate from himself, but rather the stone statue was responding to the divine bone, responding to the aura of its master.
What has the deepest connection with an angel, if not the angel himself? And what has a deeper connection to him than his own bones, a part of his body?
Alex understood Elias's intention. Elias was using this method to protect him.
The nine halos now fused together, pulling along that knuckle bone of Elias, merging into a small burning flame that fell gently onto the center of Alex's forehead.
Alex instinctively turned his head, looking towards Elias's divine statue. The originally cold, lifeless stone statue seemed to have come alive in that instant. Alex raised his head, seeing an illusory figure overlaying the statue.
Alex widened his eyes, trying to engrave that image in his mind. He saw a pair of heterochromatic eyes full of enchantment, saw a burning flame in the center of Elias's forehead, identical to the flame that had just fallen onto his own forehead.
Alex wanted to look a bit longer, to see clearly the true appearance of this white-boned angel, but his eyes hurt terribly, and his head throbbed as if split by a hammer.
Alex was forced to close his eyes, physiological tears streaming out. When he opened them again, the stone statue had returned to normal, silent and inanimate.
Alex reached up, touching the mark on his forehead, feeling a scorching heat transmit to his fingertips. When his finger touched that flame, the sensation of thick gunpowder smoke and spreading warfare once again enveloped him, screams echoing in his ears. Alex hurriedly pulled his hand away, his heart beating rapidly.
Alex calmly took a deep breath and looked around; the God Selection Hall had once again returned to normal, leaving only the remnants of the power from just now.
The Manager struggled to stand up; his high-ranking cleric robe was burnt and ragged, revealing solid, scarred muscles—proof of his years of combat.
The Manager saw the red flame-shaped mark on Alex's forehead, his expression a mix of bitterness and astonishment: "So it is a God's Favored One."
The Manager sighed, looking into the distance, seeing Hughes and Wood standing at the door of the God Selection Hall with expressions of shock still lingering on their faces.
Dune Diocese, this god-forsaken place, in just one year, had produced three people with talent above six pillars of light, among whom was even a legendary God's Favored One.
Is this a good omen? Or is it a sign of a disaster about to strike?
The will of God is hard to guess, impossible to guess; mortals can only bow their heads and obey.
At the entrance of the God Selection Hall, two figures appeared one after another, their steps hurried. The Sun Believer and The Weaver of Fate arrived leisurely late, traces of road dust still lingering on them.
The Inquisitor Manager looked at them, brushing dust off himself, and said irritably: "It's ended, you people missed the birth of a God's Favored One. A sight seen once in a hundred years."
"I sensed the breath of war, dense and cruel." The Sun Believer stepped forward, his gaze grave: "I fear the Sanctuary has been alerted again. This time it cannot be hidden."
"Perhaps the Sanctuary already knows." The Weaver of Fate opened his mouth from the side, his voice calm but certain: "Nine rays of holy light will appear on the Angel of War statues in every church across the continent; the Sanctuary is no exception. This signal cannot be blocked."
The Judgment Manager stepped forward, picking up the hat that had fallen on the ground: "What is the use of saying these things now? What is done is done."
Alex looked at the people who had suddenly appeared in the great hall, these big shots of the Church whose names he had only heard of usually. Although Alex did not understand what the significance of "God's Favored One" was to the Church, judging literally and by their attitudes, the title of one favored by the gods was indeed not light; it was a death-free gold medal, but at the same time, it was also a new shackle.
The protection Elias gave him was something Alex could not repay. Not only resolving the siege for him at this moment, saving him from the sword of judgment, but for his entire life hereafter, the mark existing on his forehead would completely change his life, pushing him onto a completely different path.
Alex was a very intelligent boy; he had simply met with many misfortunes too early, enduring the coldness of the world, but when destiny returned the gifts it owed him all at once, it was all because of Elias, because of the presence of that angel.
Alex could not let down the angel's kindness, could not let Elias's sacrifice become meaningless.
Alex exhaled a breath, took a step forward, facing those powerful people: "Do you believe my words now?"
The Inquisitor Manager turned around, looking at the teenage boy who only reached his chest, dressed in simple, even somewhat worn clothes, but whose eyes were shining with determination. The Manager's expression was complex; for a long time, he could not even compose a normal sentence.
The person who opened his mouth to speak for the Manager was one of the two who arrived later; he looked about Alex's age, wearing a simple rough fabric robe, but his aura was extremely special.
The youth looked at the red flame-shaped mark in the center of Alex's forehead, his eyes looking as if they could see through all things: "God's will is not wrong. He chose you."
"Then when can I leave?" Alex asked. He did not care about the choice of the divine; he only cared about the reality before his eyes: "When can I receive my subsidy? I have waited for a very long time."