The Church of Redemption

With the strange thought of visiting a cult's headquarters, Irene stepped inside the cathedral anyway.

However, as she ventured deeper, the light gradually dimmed, as if the brightness of the outside world was completely sealed off, making it feel like walking into a small, dark room without doors or windows.

Fortunately, a dragon's vision was exceptional. As her pupils dilated, Irene easily made out the details of the cathedral's interior.

Compared to the simplicity of the exterior, the interior was clearly far more luxurious.

In the massive central hall, row after row of white benches adorned with silver patterns stretched out. Beastkin and half-beastkin sat together in small groups, chatting and laughing amongst themselves.

With her draconic sensitivity to treasure, Irene saw at a glance that the silver patterns on the benches were indeed plated with real silver.

However, much like the shabby bell atop the cathedral tower, it was only a paper-thin layer of silver leaf. Its sole purpose was likely to make the furniture look more noble and magnificent.

Aside from that, the walls on both sides of the benches were covered in exquisite, highly religious murals.

Most of them depicted a deity saving mortals from suffering. The deity's face seemed to be intentionally hidden, obscured for the most part by the shadow of a hood and never clearly drawn. In contrast, the figures of those being saved were rendered in vivid, lifelike detail.

If one looked closely, they would notice that most of these figures were not pure humans, but beastkin and half-beastkin with distinct non-human features.

Among them, Irene even spotted Fido—or more accurately, Fido's elderly appearance before his transformation into a dragonborn. Even the wrinkles on his face were perfectly recreated.

In the mural, his face was filled with devout piety as he led his clansmen on bended knee. Before him stood the “Goddess of Redemption,” radiating endless light, her entire body enveloped in a holy white robe.

In one hand, the deity held a shortsword that gleamed with a chilling light, while the other held a glittering gold coin. She leaned forward slightly, bestowing the two treasures upon the elderly kobold.

In the next mural, the kobold who had received the shortsword and gold coin had regained his youth, his posture standing tall and straight. Amidst the praises of his clansmen, he thrust the sword into the earth and tossed the gold coin into the air.

Consequently, a towering, majestic city wall rose from the ground, and countless gold coins rained down from the sky, piling into mountains of gold.

Half-beastkin and beastkin rushing from afar, cradling white flowers in their arms, entered the city walls that had risen from the flat ground. With faces full of devotion, they placed the white flowers at the foot of the deity's statue.

Irene easily understood the symbolism: the sword undoubtedly represented military might, while the gold coin represented wealth.

As the “deity,” she had bestowed wealth and might upon the elderly kobold patriarch, which in turn brought about their current glory.

However, the white flowers cradled by the half-beastkin and beastkin in the murals almost made Irene lose her composure. She felt as if her long-buried memories had suddenly risen as undead, relentlessly assaulting her.

The other murals mostly recorded past events as well, though they had been heavily exaggerated and romanticized, making them no different from the sacred, religious legends told by bards.

Irene only glanced at these murals briefly before losing interest. Turning her gaze away with a hint of boredom, she looked around and casually sat down on an empty bench.

Leaning against the back of the bench, her current angle gave her a perfect view of a stone statue standing on a high platform at the very front of the central hall—the statue of the so-called Goddess of Redemption.

Just as depicted in the murals, the statue wore a holy white robe adorned with obscure runes drawn in gold thread, resembling either some ancient script or long-lost spell inscriptions.

From her back extended a pair of pure white feathered wings and a pair of pitch-black bat wings.

The feathered wings were fully spread, as if about to soar into the sky, while the bat wings folded forward, enveloping the statue from the waist down. The shadows cast upon the holy white robe dyed it a dark, somber black.

One of the statue's hands cradled an exquisite black book, while the other reached forward casually, as if to pull those trapped in the swamp of despair out of their plight.

Against this backdrop, the face hidden beneath the shadow of the hood, though devoid of any features, gave off an inexplicable sensation.

It was as if she were smiling.

“Tsk, no wonder they didn't recognize me,” Irene muttered, leaning back against the bench. Her gaze lingered on the face hidden beneath the hood for a couple of seconds as she raised an eyebrow and whispered, “It doesn't even have a face. It'd be a miracle if anyone recognized me.”

Despite her words, Irene felt that the cathedral's design and style actually had a rather authentic vibe. It wasn't half bad, at least compared to some of the religious places she had seen in her past life.

Creak... Thud!

With a sudden, heavy sound, the massive wooden doors of the cathedral slammed shut. The draft it created pulled Irene's drifting thoughts back. Shifting her attention away from the statue, she saw a “big guy” dressed in black-and-white cleric robes slowly walking up to the high platform where the statue stood, holding a copy of the Holy Scripture of Redemption.

Calling him a big guy was entirely due to the airtight black armor he wore beneath his cleric robes, stretching the fabric to its absolute limit.

Combined with the chilling chainsword slung across his back, this member of the clergy looked utterly bizarre.

He gave off a strong vibe of someone who, if you dared not to believe, would unsheathe the chainsword from his back and perform a literal “physical salvation.”

Perhaps because the chainsword, which was nearly the height of an average person, was simply too intimidating, the previously noisy cathedral fell dead silent the moment this uniquely dressed fellow appeared.

Once he stood still, the half-beastkin and beastkin in the audience, both young and old, rose to their feet in unison. Clutching the Holy Scripture of Redemption in one hand, they crossed their other hand over their chests with fingers aligned, performing a strange but orderly salute as they greeted, “Good day, Your Holiness.”

After the so-called Pope slowly nodded in acknowledgment, they flipped open their copies of the Holy Scripture of Redemption, chanting with absolute sincerity: “Praise the great Goddess of Redemption. You strip away our suffering and sow the seeds of hope. Great as You are, Your divine kingdom shall hang high in the endless starry sky, and Your divine fire shall burn eternally...”

As the final words echoed, the black-armored Pope on the platform raised his right hand and pressed down twice in a calming gesture. Only then did the congregation close their books and sit down with fanatic enthusiasm, waiting for the Pope to begin today's scripture reading and sermon.

The wait was somewhat long. Only when the entire hall fell completely silent once more, without a single sound to be heard, did the Pope finally open the holy scripture in his hands. In a raspy voice as cold as ten-thousand-year-old ice that pierced straight to everyone's soul, he began to recite the verses.

Only then did Irene, who had sat quietly on the bench throughout like a mere bystander, flutter her long eyelashes slightly. She whispered under her breath, “Arthas, you've really prepared quite a big gift for your old mother...”