Chapter 51 – The Heretic of Shadows

Several days had passed since the fire at Luxaris Prison. The Solar Church had managed to capture a few escaped inmates, and thanks to their testimony, a name began to spread like poison: “the specter.”

That day, the Grand Cathedral of Lumina was overflowing. Its stained-glass windows gleamed with divine light, and at the high altar stood the statue of the goddess, her spear raised toward the heavens.

High Priestess Jenis stood before the gathered masses, King Dorian Luxaris at her side. She lifted her hands to the sky, her solemn voice booming like thunder against the sacred walls.

“Brothers and sisters! Today is a day of grace.” Her tone burned with religious fervor. “In these past weeks, we have suffered the attacks of a specter who hides among us… a phantom who strikes from the shadows, stealing innocent lives under the veil of night!”

A murmur of hatred rippled through the crowd. Many clenched their fists, others raised solar crosses. Even the king smiled in satisfaction at the sound of their clamor.

Jenis pressed on, relentless...

“But if there is one truth our benevolent Lumina has taught us… it is that light was born to banish the darkness!”

The templars raised their lances, slamming them against the floor in unison.

“We do not know if this heretic crawled out of Yukihana’s corrupted depths, or if the demons of Umbra have slipped their cages…” The priestess stretched out her arm toward the goddess’s statue.

“But here, beneath our goddess’s gaze, we declare war. On the phantom! On the demons! On every heretic who dares profane the light!”

A roar of acclamation thundered through the cathedral. The faithful chanted Lumina’s name, while the bells tolled as if heralding the dawn of a holy crusade.

Then King Dorian stepped forward. His words were brief, yet delivered with a theater that ignited the crowd all the more.

“Solmara will never surrender! This kingdom shall be the beacon that purifies the world. With a new band of heroes at our side, we will annihilate the darkness!”

Applause erupted.

Jenis raised both hands, signaling the ceremony’s climax.

“Prepare the altar. Today… we shall summon the bearers of light. A new symbol for this world.”

The cathedral’s air grew thick with magic. Chants in an ancient tongue thundered across every corner, and the floor trembled beneath the weight of the ritual.

“Almighty Lumina! You who bathe our kingdom in your will—grant us once again your power, and send us the heroes who will defend this world against the darkness!” Jenis intoned with feverish zeal.

She lifted her staff before the statue, poised over the summoning altar.

“Holy Invocation!”

The sacred scepter slammed against the ground. A blinding light swallowed the entire temple, drawing gasps of awe.

When the brilliance finally faded, Jenis opened her eyes slowly. But the murmur that spread through the faithful was not of jubilation. It was of unease.

There was nothing.

No hero.
No divine sign.

“W-what… what is happening?” Jenis stammered, her voice breaking.

The whispers multiplied across the congregation:

—“What went wrong?”
—“It’s never failed before…”
—“Did we lack faith? Or mana?”

King Dorian’s frown deepened, his displeasure plain.

“What is this, Jenis? Some mistake?”

“I… I don’t understand, Your Majesty…” the priestess faltered, clutching her staff tightly.

Then, a voice rang clear through the cathedral—soft, yet cutting, like the breath of spring. It silenced the crowd in an instant.

“Because Lumina has forsaken you. You have broken your faith.”

Every gaze turned toward the entrance. There stood the fifth daughter of House Luxaris.

“It’s the young saint!” some of the faithful whispered.

Jenis’s face twisted with hate.

“Who taught you such blasphemy?”

Sakura walked down the central aisle with steady steps. The light from the stained glass windows seemed to follow her, every glimmer brushing against her silhouette.

“Blasphemy?” she answered firmly. “The blasphemers are you. You’ve made our goddess weep, twisting her light for dark purposes. We were meant to be the nation of the Sun… not of shadow.”

Her eyes locked onto the king’s, filled with sorrow and reproach.

“Father.”

Dorian’s face twisted with rage.

“You insolent little brat…! Guards!”

The murmurs swelled again, caught between fear and hope. Jenis clenched her teeth, paralyzed. Soldiers began to close in around Sakura.

She lifted her chin, refusing to retreat.

“Why don’t you try again, ‘High Priestess’?” Her voice rang out like a challenge.

Jenis shook with fury, the whispers of the faithful stabbing into her pride like thorns. She couldn’t allow this girl to undermine her authority.

“Silence!” she roared. “I am Lumina’s voice in this world! I will summon the heroes!”

She raised her staff with such force the stained glass rattled in their frames. The air grew oppressive, thick with mana.

“Sacred Lumina, hear my call! By the light of judgment, by eternal purity… grant us the ten heroes who will purge the shadows!”

The priests echoed her words in a frenzied chorus. The altar blazed once more, so bright the crowd shielded their eyes.

But this time, the glow turned red.

A crack rippled through the statue of Lumina. Tiny fissures spread across the marble, and a single black tear slid down her stone cheek.

The faithful shuddered. Some collapsed to their knees, others fled in terror.

“N-no… it can’t be…” Jenis staggered back, horrified. “It’s impossible!”

Sakura pointed straight at her, eyes burning like embers.

“Do you see? Our goddess weeps. Not for us… but for you—for every one of you who has defiled her light.”

King Dorian clenched his fists, his face twisted in desperation.

“Guards, kill that insolent girl!”

But the soldiers hesitated. The image of the goddess in tears had cut deeper than the voice of their king.

Jenis, frantic, lifted her staff again.

“No! Lumina! Answer me! I am your most faithful servant!”

The altar erupted in a burst of black smoke, snuffing out every lamp in the temple. The cathedral drowned in darkness, and the echo of the failed prayer clung to the walls like an eternal mockery.

From high above, hidden among the shattered stained glass, Ren watched the scene unfold with Opera at his side.

“Well then…” His whisper was as cold as the grave. “It’s time to take the stage.”

He placed the mask over his face, and the hero vanished. In his place stood the specter of death. His companions followed suit, summoning the relics Shion had marked.

“This will be… our final performance.” Ren stretched out his hand, like a conductor giving the cue.

The silence shattered.

“Let the show begin!”