CRACKLING!
Lightning sparks danced across Graham VII's broken form. No matter how he strained, he could not muster a shred of his former combat prowess. Objective reality does not bend to the whims of the dying; he was already a broken cripple.
He gritted his teeth, his bloodshot eyes widening in a mixture of terror and rage that quickly melted into desperation. His voice trembled as he began to plead.
"Gilbert, I am the one you hate. This is between us..."
"No, this was never just between us."
Gilbert's hunger for vengeance left no room for mercy.
He watched the horizon where the coronation was set to begin. "You slaughtered my kin, so I will force you to endure the agony of losing your own—losing the one thing you treasure most. Do you know why I didn't kill you instantly? Because that would be too merciful. I want you to watch your son die before your eyes. I want you to truly feel this Pain..."
Graham VII's face turned a ghostly white. He followed Gilbert's cold gaze toward the ceremony, clutching at Gilbert's arm, wanting to beg but finding no words.
He knew pleading was futile; Gilbert would never abandon his crusade. He knew this man would never spare his heir. To return this pain, this man had waited twenty-five years in the shadows.
"I beg you, Gilbert! None of this has anything to do with my son. I beg you! Take my life right now, but please, spare him!"
Gilbert looked down at Graham with eyes of ice.
"Too late."
At the ceremony,
An Alaya Church priest was officiating the rites. The imposing Graham VIII stepped forward, and the priest solemnly hoisted the golden Crown.
"The sun, moon, and stars are all manifestations of our god's favor. Alaya's great power descends upon this Crown. He has permitted the prince to bear the kingdom's Authority. May Alaya's divine favor be with the kingdom always..."
Graham VIII lowered his head in reverence.
The priest moved to place the Crown.
Suddenly,
Their expressions shifted into masks of horror.
BOOM!
They had no time to react. A burst of blinding light erupted from the heart of the ceremony, instantly incinerating Graham VIII and the priest in a single blast.
"Your Highness!!"
"ASSASSIN!!"
The ceremony collapsed into pure Chaos.
In an instant,
The knights roared as a flood of soldiers appeared, frantically trying to lock down the perimeter. Realizing the source of the danger, the knights turned their gazes toward the high Tower.
Only then did they spot the figure standing next to Graham VII.
That sight sent a lethal shiver down the knights' spines.
"Gilbert!"
"Quick, protect His Majesty!!"
The tragedy had struck with the speed of a lightning bolt. In a heartbeat, the prince who was meant to rule had been murdered. And the Rebel Leader was standing over the king. The situation was catastrophic.
"Ah... Ugh!!!"
Witnessing his son's death, Graham VII let out a ragged cry of agony, tears streaming from his bloodshot eyes. Gilbert watched him with a hollow coldness.
"How does it feel?"
He didn't want Graham VII to repent or find empathy; he simply wanted him to drown in this Pain.
It was obvious that losing both the King and the Prince would plunge the Graham Kingdom into a bloodbath. The empire Graham VII had built with his own hands might even collapse into the dirt.
Whatever the outcome,
Graham VII would not live to see it.
"GILBERT!!"
Overwhelmed by grief, Graham VII let out a powerless wail, struggling to his feet with a dying gasp, trying to drag Gilbert into the grave with him.
Gilbert simply stepped aside. With a slight exert of force, he drove his blade directly into Graham VII's heart, twisting the steel before ripping it out.
Graham VII collapsed instantly.
THUMP!
Almost simultaneously, a figure tore through the air at high velocity. A sword pierced through Gilbert's chest, pinning him violently against the stone wall.
Gilbert looked up to see the Alaya Holy Son, his face twisted with a righteous rage. For a fleeting second, Gilbert felt as if everything was preordained—that this was his final destiny.
Perhaps this was merely a blood debt being paid in full.
SPLURT!
The Alaya Holy Son wrenched his longsword free, and blood sprayed from Gilbert's chest. Gilbert slumped to the floor as his consciousness began to dissolve into a gray haze.
"Your Majesty!"
As his senses faded, Gilbert heard the Alaya Holy Son's frantic cries. Graham VII was beyond saving; the revenge was complete.
As his life ebbed away, a faint light flickered in Gilbert's vision. He saw a butterfly, glowing with a soft white radiance, appearing on the back of his hand.
Gilbert had once met a wandering poet—a Divine Apostle. He had invited the man to join him, but the poet had no interest in the rebellion.
However,
The wandering poet had left him a gift.
It was a blessing said to fulfill one's deepest heart's desire. Gilbert had never believed in such fantasies, but if he truly had one wish left, there was only one name.
"Schaller... Stella..."
The murmur faded into a final silence. Gilbert's consciousness plunged into eternal darkness. His blood pooled on the floor, mixing with the king's, staining the Tower crimson.
The white Butterfly flapped its wings, leaving Gilbert's cold hand. It traversed vast distances, crossing rivers and wild lands. After an eternity, it followed a beam of light through the void.
Dim.
Grave-cold.
Damp.
In a corner of a rotting prison cell, a young girl huddled in a ball. She was dressed in rough, ill-fitting linen, her frail body shivering against the stones.
In the dark, a single beam of moonlight pierced the high barred window, falling onto her. The white butterfly, following the light, landed softly on the girl's arm, its wings stilling as if afraid to wake her.
Blackstone Dungeon.
This was a secret Prison hidden from the world. It housed the forgotten criminals of the Graham Kingdom, and once the gates closed, no one ever walked out.
The girl had been born here, yet she had never adapted to the cold. Her only daily memory was the food, which smelled worse than dishwater. She didn't even know what dishwater truly was; she only knew the descriptions of others.
Surviving this long was a miracle. Unfortunately, she had fallen ill two days prior. In a place like this, a fever was a Death Sentence.
Perhaps it was a coincidence, or perhaps it was fate: the girl's name was Stella. In her mother's tongue, that name meant Rebirth and Miracles.
As her freezing body felt a sliver of warmth, a smile bloomed on her pale face. She opened her eyes and saw a figure appearing before her.
The stranger did not look like a prisoner. She moved through the space as if the iron bars didn't exist, walking straight through the steel. She asked: "Do you want to continue living?"
Stella's eyes were clear and pure, as blue as a cloudless sky. She nodded and asked Mei: "Are you the god who has come to save me?"
Stella was a child of the Blackstone Dungeon. She had never seen the world outside, and she had no idea what it held.
Everything she knew came from others' words, even if it was just bits and pieces. She was filled with yearning for the outside world.
According to others in Blackstone Dungeon, there was a great existence in this world called a god, possessing unimaginable, grand power and the ability to create all things.
He also possessed a heart of universal love, pitying and redeeming mortals.
But some also said the Church was full of swindlers, and that no god existed in this world. Swindlers only used the god's name to seize power and wealth.
Mei remained silent.
Only her hand raised, a point of faint light blooming. This, in Stella's eyes, was none other than the embodiment of hope and miracles. The Subjective Aspect's essence condensed once more, containing the power nurtured by Gilbert.
Tier 1 peak.
Stella didn't speak, only watching the scene before her with awe. If she had harbored any doubts before, now she truly believed the person before her was a god.
HUM!
The Subjective Aspect's radiance sank into Stella's body, a surge of warmth granting her a grand power she had never felt before.
The dazzling light engulfed her. When she came to her senses, Stella found herself in a wilderness. She looked around but saw no sign of Mei.
"Lord God?"
She, who had never been alone, was instantly overcome with panic. Despite having attained her long-awaited freedom, she hurriedly hid in the tall grass, clutching her head and trembling.
For a long time,
WHOOSH!
A gentle breeze swept past, bringing the scent of earth and flowers. Stella cautiously peered out. Her growling stomach was extremely hungry.
A fawn walked past, instantly capturing Stella's attention. It was the first time she had seen an animal other than birds and butterflies.
The fawn wasn't afraid of Stella, lowering its head to eat green grass. Stella followed suit, pulling up some green grass and starting to eat. It was unexpectedly fresh.
The fawn looked around and entered the forest. Stella hastily followed. Before long, she followed the fawn to a river. There was water, and fruit trees stood nearby.
Stella tried a wild fruit, her face lighting up with joy.
"Delicious!"
She had never eaten anything so sweet; in fact, this was the first time she had ever eaten fruit. Stella plucked a wild fruit and offered it to the fawn.
She cautiously asked: "Do you want to eat?"
Seeming to know the girl wouldn't harm it, the fawn directly approached and ate the fruit.
...
The next day,
When Stella woke up from her tree hollow, the fawn was gone. She felt a little sad and lost, then decided to follow the river downstream, soon reaching a village.
She cautiously entered this village. Stella was too frail, and she had initially thought she might be bullied, but she wasn't.
This allowed her to relax her heart.
Her curious gaze appraised everything in the village. Every person and thing was so novel to Stella, and within that dirty face, her eyes shone with extraordinary clarity.
She passed through the village, holding the food gifted by kind people, her steps never ceasing. She didn't know where she was going; she simply wanted to keep seeing more of the vast world.
What was most surprising was that Stella seemed to never have to worry about food. Whenever she was hungry, she could always find something to fill her stomach.
Wild fruit.
Wild vegetables.
Roasted meat gifted by kind people.
And so on.
Furthermore, she never encountered any danger. The people she met along the way were so warm and kind, and even the occasionally ill-tempered ones didn't treat her badly.
She trod with bare feet, wearing her ill-fitting rough linen clothes, carrying an endless curiosity and goodwill for the world, passing through village after village and town after town.
She saw a myriad of people and things, truth and falsehood, beauty and ugliness, poverty and wealth, good and evil, life and death.
That pure white, paper-like worldview gradually filled until it was complete.
Until mature.
Her frail body gradually became full and healthy, her rosy, charming face catching people's eyes, her long golden hair as dazzling as the sun.
One day,
When Stella passed through a small town and saw members of the Alaya Church preaching, she was even more delighted to hear that the Church believed in a god.
She asked the Church's followers:
"Can joining the Church allow me to see the god?"
The followers exchanged glances.
"Apart from the Pope, no one is qualified to sense Divine Revelations. Although you cannot have an audience with the god, you can behold the god's presence in the cathedral."
"Many thanks!"
Hearing this,
Stella rushed to the Graham Kingdom's capital with unusual haste. Ever since the God-Lord granted her redemption, he hadn't appeared again. Bearing the purest gratitude and reverence, she felt an urgent need to return this favor.
Her mother was deceased.
Mei, who had granted Stella a new life, was undeniably her sole spiritual anchor. That figure in the dim dungeon, appearing before her with the light of hope—that was a scene she'd never forget.
Rushing and galloping, she finally arrived at the capital a few days later. Clearly without any documentation, the guards unexpectedly allowed Stella to enter smoothly.
As she drew closer to the capital, the tense, heavy atmosphere grew stronger. Stella frequently heard people whispering about the king's assassination and Gilbert, but she paid it no mind.
Until she reached the Alaya Great Cathedral.
Outside the Great Cathedral,
A fair-haired, blue-eyed knight was issuing orders to the Church's followers. As the Alaya Holy Son, he had the authority to command them.
"Purging the rebels... Lord Pope... A blood debt paid in blood..."
Faintly, words reached Stella's ears. She paid them no heed, taking a nervous deep breath before stepping into the Great Cathedral, filled with immense reverence.
However,
The moment the holy and magnificent, colossal statue of the god came into view, Stella's steps faltered. The reverence and joy on her face rapidly vanished.
Replaced by astonishment and disappointment.
It was a statue carved into the rock wall. Alaya was positioned high in the heavens, transcending the mortal world, holy, solemn, and supreme.
But this was completely different from what Stella had imagined.
She murmured with loss,
"This isn't the god..."
At least,
This wasn't her god.
Stella had seen Mei. Although she could never recall Mei's specific appearance, she knew it at a glance: this was not the one she considered a god.
...
The rebel army within the Graham Kingdom might have gathered some momentum, but in the grand scheme of things, it was insignificant. Even within the Graham Kingdom, few knew of its existence.
The lowest strata were thoroughly conditioned to accept their status as commoners, an identity rooted in their perceptions. Even if they heard of the rebel army's existence, they struggled to understand why those people couldn't simply lead a peaceful life instead of opposing the kingdom.
"Can't you just farm your land?"
"Can't you just blacksmith properly?"
Not all people at the bottom could empathize. The conditions of commoners varied across regions, and gaps in information and awareness levels made many things difficult for them to comprehend.
Few in this era's lower strata were literate; don't expect them to have high levels of awareness or deep understanding of the era and world.
Many within the rebel army could answer these questions: because most of the grain they grew went to taxes, leaving not enough to eat.
Because taxes were too high, and blacksmithing properly couldn't pay them. Because the military officers' quotas were too high, and they couldn't possibly forge enough weapons within the allotted time, only to be executed.
If they didn't rebel, they simply couldn't survive.
Wars were everywhere. Who grew the grain? The commoners. What if the harvest was insufficient? The nobles wouldn't allow their income to decrease, so they raised taxes further.
A vicious cycle.
However,
A very practical problem lay before them: the rebel army lacked sufficient supernatural power. When Gilbert was around, they could at least contend with the kingdom and the church for a time.
Once Gilbert died, the rebels fell into absolute disadvantage. Facing the frantic retaliation of the kingdom's knight regiments and church followers, the rebels were severely crippled.
Perhaps the flame of rebellion wouldn't be completely extinguished, but such a heavy blow to any individual meant bloodshed and death.
Many, many deaths.
...
In the wilderness,
The dim sky rained down ash-like particles. Death and silence filled every corner of the battlefield. Visad, like a soulless husk, his eyes devoid of any spark.
He looked around.
Bodies.
Kingdom knights, church followers, and rebel soldiers lay strewn across the field, their blood flowing like a river. Visad was the sole survivor on the entire battlefield.
Visad's heart was like cold ashes.
He didn't understand.
Why was this world like this? Why was this era like this? Why wouldn't they just let them live? Were they born to be so humble and lowly?
If he'd had even a bite to eat, he wouldn't have become a rebel. Was this world always so cruel? Why couldn't they be born as nobles?
Visad had too many questions seeking answers. Unfortunately, it seemed no one in this era could answer him. He couldn't see the future of the rebel army, nor his own future, falling into a profound state of bewilderment.
He craved redemption.
As if heaven had heard Visad's inner voice, a beam of bright sunlight pierced through the dim clouds. A golden-haired girl, as radiant as the sun, stepped barefoot onto the blood-soaked battlefield.
The girl, seeing Visad's severe injuries, felt a surge of compassion. She held her hand suspended over his forehead, and in the next moment, a miraculous power descended.
Visad's wounds healed in an instant, and his body and mind felt an unprecedented lightness. He looked up at the girl before him. She was about his age, maybe fifteen or sixteen.
But her compassion, kindness, and unblemished holiness were untouchable, like a beam of light in midwinter, bringing a sliver of warmth and hope amidst despair.
"Good, you're alright now."
Stella's heartfelt smile was captivating. Along her journey, she had received the kindness of many, so she felt she should do her best to help those in need.
She had discovered that as long as she wished, her heart's desires could almost always be realized. The things she feared would somehow always be avoided.
This must be a boon from the god!
Stella understood.
Her new life began with the god's redemption, so she was happy to offer redemption to others. She believed the god was compassionate, and if she did well enough, the god would surely come to see her again one day.
Stella's subjective power had awakened the moment she accepted the Subjective Aspect, and her awakening characteristic was very close to the core essence of subjective power.
Hope and Miracles!
In other words,
Her heart's desires were fulfilled.
To a certain extent and within a certain range, what Stella wished for would influence reality, making reality manifest as she hoped.
Even though she currently only possessed Tier 1 peak power, her ability to influence reality was already quite distinct, the fundamental level extremely high.
Far beyond ordinary supernatural powers.
Stella didn't display much combat strength, as she didn't use violence to solve problems. If she wanted to, it was just a matter of thought.
Such an ability.
She firmly believed only a true god could grant it.
After finishing the healing, Stella continued her journey, passing through the battlefield strewn with corpses towards the distance. Visad watched Stella's back and involuntarily followed.
He felt Stella was likely the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, not just because she healed him, but because she was the beam of light that broke through his despair when he was soul-crushed.
Along the way,
Stella unrestrainedly utilized her power, helping all who suffered. She sought no reward and never complained, her soul so pure and holy it didn't seem human.
To protect this holiness and purity, initially only Visad was behind her. Gradually, the number of followers grew.
Among these people were peasants, hunters, nobles, knights, and even some from the Alaya Church.
They didn't know which god Stella believed in, nor what that god specifically looked like, but they still called Stella the Saintess.
The Compassionate, Unblemished Saintess.
One day,
Upon reaching the borders of the Graham Kingdom, the people there were extremely destitute. Stella accidentally discovered a deserted church and decided to worship the god there.
She found a pure white, unblemished rock and personally carved the image of the god. She couldn't recall the god's exact appearance but could still capture three parts of its essence.
Stella called the god Mother God; to her, Mei was the true parent who had given her a new life. She didn't care whether others believed in Mother God, nor did she ever actively preach.
Stella didn't compose stories or myths about the god's origins, feeling it would be a great disrespect to Mother God. Thus, the cult's name was exceptionally simple.
It was just called the Mother God Cult.
Visad and the others who followed became the first group of devotees of the Mother God Cult.