The High Priest was standing before the congregation, bathed in the soft glow of the church’s lights.
It was evening already.
The grand doors of the cathedral had been left wide open. Hundreds of people had gathered in the courtyard, spilling into the streets.
Everyone had their eyes fixed on the High Priest with a desperate kind of reverence.
It was Sunday today. And at the end of each week, the High Priest would recite the words of the goddess, spread her teachings, and guide the worshippers.
To listen to his speech, to just steal a glance at him up close, countless people would gather in the church each weekend.
To say that the High Priest Bowden was a respected man in the community would be an understatement.
In the eyes of the followers of Mother of Mercy, he was a prophet. Whatever he said was absolute.
So, today was that day of the week.
And while the High Priest had been busy the last few weeks, he still made a little time for his speech today.
Bowden raised his hands.
He was a tall man with a potbelly and a bald head.
Draped in shiny golden robes and with a silver cross hanging around his neck, he looked every bit the messiah people claimed him to be.
Sure, he didn’t seem very dangerous at first glance… yet every ounce of his being radiated a commanding presence that was impossible to ignore.
Standing on a raised dais, he leaned closer to the microphone stand and started speaking. His voice held a comfortable timbre, but also an undeniable authority.
“My brothers, my sisters — look upon this world, and tell me, do you see salvation?”
A hush fell over the crowd. The faithful hung onto his words, breathing in the rhythm of his speech like it was the air they needed to live.
“For years, we were promised protectors. For years, they told us the Monarchs were gods in flesh, shepherds who would guide us to peace, to prosperity. And yet…”
He let the words linger, let the silence stretch just enough.
“And yet, the wars do not cease. The suffering does not end. You—” He pointed to a man in the crowd, a shop owner dressed in old clothes, “—have you seen your business flourish under their rule?”
The man flinched, shaking his head.
High Priest Bowden turned, his gaze sweeping over the sea of faces gathered before him.
“And you—” He motioned toward an older woman, her hands worn and calloused. “Has your labor lessened? Has your burden grown lighter?”
She shook her head, too.
He exhaled, deeply, almost sorrowfully.
“No, my children. The Monarchs are not shepherds. They do not tend to their flock. They do not know the weight of our prayers, the ache of our hunger. And why should they?” He spread his arms wide, his golden robes catching the light. “They are not of us. They are not with us.”
The crowd stirred. Some nodded. Others clenched their fists.
“And yet, we have endured. We have survived. Not because of our rulers or the government, but because of each other. Because of our faith. Because our goddess watches over us, not from high thrones and gilded palaces, but from within. In our hands, in our hearts, in the warmth we share with one another when the cold of this world would see us broken.”
A murmur ran through the assembly, rippling outward like a tide.
Bowden smiled. “So tell me, my children… Who will you trust when the storm comes? The hands that have never touched the dirt, or the ones beside you, scarred as your own?”
The crowd’s murmuring grew.
And it was then that a figure approached the High Priest.
It was a lean man. His face was hidden beneath the hood of his golden cloak.
Bowden noticed the man appear beside him but did not falter. Not yet.
Instead, he let the weight of his words settle, then brought his hands together. “We shall pray.”
As the congregation bowed their heads, the hooded man stepped closer to Bowden and started whispering in his ear.
“High Priest… there is trouble,” he said.
Bowden did not react.
Not outwardly, at least.
He turned back to his people and lifted his hands once more. “The goddess watches over us. Be strong, my children. Be vigilant.”
With that, he turned around and headed inside the church.
The hooded man followed close behind.
This man was Bowden’s most trusted informant. His second-in-command. His right hand.
“What’s the matter?” Bowden asked.
The man hesitated. “Well, for starters, we suspect that sensitive data regarding your dealings with Overlord Everan has been stolen. Invoices, records of fund transfers from your account, illegal land ownership contracts… almost everything.”
Bowden froze in his tracks.
He tried to keep himself composed, but a bit of panic still seeped into his voice when he spoke again.
“…How? Are you certain?”
The hooded man nodded grimly. “We’re certain. The thief has been sending blackmail messages to your personal contact number. He claims Overlord Everan put him up to this. His demand is simple — pay him three times what the Overlord offered, or he’ll sell the data to either Everan or the Apex Academy Cadets currently in the city.”
Bowden’s eyes widened. “What?! No… no, no! Everan isn’t foolish enough to sabotage our plan now — not when we’re so close to completion!”
The informant hesitated. “Your Eminence, we’ve verified that the data in his possession is authentic. What we don’t yet know is how he stole it, how he bypassed the wards, or how he even got inside your chambers. But one thing is clear — the data he has is real.”
Bowden exhaled slowly and pressed his fingers against his temple.
His mind began racing through possibilities.
Somebody had infiltrated the church. Not just that — they had broken into his private chambers.
The security wards weren’t something an ordinary thief could slip past. And only a select few had the access key required to enter his quarters.
This could be an inside job.
“Damn it,” Bowden cursed under his breath.
A thief. A blackmailer. Some nobody had invaded his sanctum? Had sifted through his personal dealings? Had the audacity to make demands of him?
Unacceptable.
His jaw clenched. “Why would Everan do this? Why betray us now, when we stand on the cusp of victory?”
The informant’s voice dropped. “Maybe he’s setting you up to take the fall when this is all over. Maybe he wants to pin all the blame on you so he could get rid of you.”
Bowden’s fists tightened.
Of course.
The church and Ishtara’s government had been at odds since the civil war ended around a decade ago.
It was inevitable. Everan and Bowden were the two most powerful men in the region.
And their philosophies could not have been more different.
Neither trusted the other.
Now, it seemed, Everan had finally decided to remove the church from Khandara once and for all.
In a few days, they were going to unleash hordes of Spirit Beasts upon the city.
If Everan had all the evidence of their dealings, he could simply alter the documents to frame Bowden as the sole mastermind behind all the destruction.
The citizens would turn on the church. And Everan would finally be able to rule the region unchallenged.
It was a classic betrayal.
Bowden lowered his hand and tried to keep his voice even. “And you’re telling me this now?”
The hooded man swallowed. “We only confirmed it an hour ago. We wanted to be thorough before bringing it to you.”
Bowden took a slow step forward.
“Thorough?” he repeated. “Then tell me — what else have your thorough investigations uncovered? Who is this thief?”
The informant hesitated. “We don’t have a name. We managed to catch his face on one of the security cameras, but that’s all.”
Bowden’s expression darkened.
The hooded man pressed on. “We’re still trying to track him down. But Your Eminence, the immediate threat is not Everan. If the thief intended to sell him the data, he would have already done so. The fact that he’s asking us for more money means—”
“He’ll sell to whoever offers the highest price,” Bowden finished coldly.
The informant nodded. “Exactly. Which means our real concern is keeping that data out of the hands of the Academy Cadets. Because they should have more funds to spare than either you or the Overlord.”
Silence descended over the room they were in.
And a flicker of raw fury flashed across Bowden’s eyes before he forced himself to calm down.
“I should have dealt with them the moment they arrived,” he muttered.
The Cadets.
Apex Academy’s meddlesome brats.
Bowden had never met them in person, but he had kept loose tabs on them since their arrival.
And as expected, the Cadets had been a thorn in his side the moment they arrived in this region.
They asked too many questions. Probed where they didn’t belong.
And now, this.
Bowden had left them alone at first.
Since all of them were merely first-years, he thought how much trouble could a handful of children possibly cause?
But he had been wrong.
He should have had them killed the day they arrived.
Bowden turned and walked toward the candlelit altar at the far end of the room.
He stopped before the towering statue of the Mother of Mercy, gazing up at her.
“Fortify our security,” he ordered. “If that thief sells the data to the Cadets, they’ll make their move soon. We must be prepared.”
It was a shame.
He had no love for Overlord Everan. In fact, he despised the man.
But their partnership had been… convenient. Mutually beneficial.
And now, it seemed, Everan had let a viper loose in his home.
“What’s the plan, Your Eminence?” the informant asked.
Bowden turned around, the flickering candlelight casting deep shadows across his face.
“We will reverse this on Everan,” he said. “We’ll make it seem as if the government was responsible for all the attacks.”
“How?” the informant asked.
“We’ll also alter evidence,” Bowden replied. “Forged documents, falsified records, witnesses who will swear that Everan orchestrated everything.”
The informant nodded slowly. “And what about the Cadets?”
“Let them come.” Bowden’s lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. “They will die here.”
“And the thief?” the informant questioned.
“Try to strike a false deal with him. Hold him off from selling that as long as possible,” the High Priest replied. “In the meantime, begin preparations to launch the Phase Two of our plan.”
“This soon?” The hooded man expressed his concern. “Weren’t we supposed to wait a few more days?”
“It’s too risky to wait any longer.” Bowden shook his head. “We’ll carry on with our plan as soon as we’re ready… before anyone has the time to question the truth.”
The informant hesitated only for a moment before nodding. “Understood, Your Eminence. I’ll begin the preparations.”
Bowden turned back to the statue of the Mother of Mercy.
“The city will soon drown in chaos. We’ll use that time to make our move,” he murmured. “And when the dust settles, the people will beg for salvation. We will be there to offer it.”
He clasped his hands together in prayer, but his mind was already on the war to come.