Chapter 487 — The Heresy Tribunal
Blade of Dawn · Page 4 of 4
Such a cold, deathly stillness was unlike anything Fran?Béland had ever encountered. For a moment he looked faintly embarrassed, and then a little irritated.
But his sermon had already begun, and he had to see it through.
So he forced down his displeasure and stirred the Holy Light all the more vigorously, letting the majestic, sacred radiance around him build into a vast and imposing display—and that manufactured momentum finally roused a little commotion in the square, just enough for him to carry on with his sermon: "...Today, I will expose the demons' tricks here, and drag into the light the shadows they have hidden in people's hearts!
"Those already bewitched by demons will, without question, be exposed and then purified, while those not bewitched will naturally receive fair judgment and be released—I promise everyone here that this trial is just, and that it is valid!
"By the God of Holy Light I swear, the Lord's radiance and justice shall surely prevail!"
Fran?Béland raised his scepter high. On ordinary occasions, after shouting such stirring slogans, he would pause a moment, waiting for the thunderous cheers of the crowd to rise around him. But now he already sensed such cheers would hardly come, so he briskly skipped the unnecessary flourishes of the ritual and directly roused all the magic in his body, communing in his heart with the voice of the God of Holy Light as he unleashed a wide-range divine art.
Accompanied by a faint, resonant echo of holy sound, a hazy ring of pure white light spread outward from Fran?Béland as its center.
At the sight of such supernatural power, the common folk in the square finally stirred a little. And on the wooden platform at the front of the crowd, those bound to the pillars went wide-eyed, watching with fear and tension as the halo swept over them with what seemed an unstoppable force—
Wherever the halo passed, faint curtains of light rose from the bodies of the bound. Then the curtains began to shudder violently, twisting into countless shadow-like cracks that drifted about them and above their heads, impossibly conspicuous.
Fran?Béland surveyed the scene with satisfaction: just as he had expected, those gripped by fear and self-doubt could not possibly pass the heresy trial.
The halo continued to spread beyond the platform, gradually taking on the look of something about to dissipate.
Seeing the halo draw near, the crowd at the square's inner edge all showed tense expressions. Some quietly edged back half a step, yet dared not move too obviously for fear the priests on the platform would notice; others had plainly stood too far forward—they fell within the halo's range.
To Fran?Béland's astonishment, within that great divine-word art's halo which was about to fade, several bright and steady lights had kindled.
Could there truly be people of such devotion among the common folk?
He had only meant to use the aftershock of the divine art to overawe those commoners, never expecting to see a response from the Holy Light.
The interim bishop stared in utter surprise at the direction from which those few lights had come—but the very next second, he had no attention left to spare for what "those devout believers" actually looked like.
He discovered that the great divine-word art, which ought to have faded away naturally after spreading to its limit, seemed to have been strengthened out of thin air. The halo, which had already grown dim before the crowd, had suddenly turned uncommonly bright!!
The divine art, which by rights should have been confined around the "judgment platform," seemed to resonate with some sacred artifact. It was infused anew with energy, and then began spreading across the entire square with incomparable ferocity.
Fran?Béland stared at it all in shock, and in his heart he suddenly realized—oh no, this is the end.
:. .