Chapter 639 — The Last Wall
Blade of Dawn · Page 2 of 4
Another terrifying shriek rang out from the shield, and the whole of Saint Frostrest shuddered violently, as though enclosed within a great bell.
A moment later came the sound of wind, and Bai Yu Franklin, clad in the robe of the Arcane Eye, rode the wind down beside Wales and said swiftly, "Your Majesty, the southern district shield node has just burned out."
"I heard that shriek..." Wales said calmly. "How much longer can it hold?"
Duke Bai Yu raised a hand and pointed at the noise-spots spreading swiftly across the sky above the royal capital: "...It has already begun to collapse."
The Saint Sunil Great Shield was collapsing—over the past several days it had borne pressure far beyond its designed threshold; by now all its nodes were half-destroyed or wholly destroyed, and more fatally still, the magical focal points beneath the royal capital could no longer supply sufficient energy. The lack of energy was triggering a chain reaction of shield decomposition, causing its nodes to be devoured and melted down one after another by the backlash of magic.
Others on the wall had noticed the collapsing Great Shield as well, yet no one left the defense line. Wales, too, merely watched calmly as the Great Shield gradually came apart; only after several seconds did he say softly, "We should have heeded Grand Duchess Victoria's advice—expanded the scale of the magic net and connected it to the Great Shield."
"Too many people harbored doubts about Cecil's technology. Now it is time to accept the cost."
Wales did not speak. He raised his head and looked toward the Yaoxiao Cathedral.
A vast radiance was pouring forth from the summit of that ancient cathedral, brimming with an air of endless solemnity and immensity.
The Great Shield would not hold until reinforcements arrived—that had been expected. But after the shield collapsed, before human lives could be poured into the breach, Saint Sunil still had one last wall for its defense.
"The theocracy has entrenched itself in this royal capital for so many years. It is time they fulfilled their duty."
The descent rite had reached its final, critical stage; the Great Hall of Light had become a sea of holy light.
The cloud of holy light that had floated year-round at the ceiling of the hall descended to the floor, like the sacred portent of heaven's descent told of in legend. Steeped in that holy cloud, every pillar and every statue of the Great Hall of Light seemed encased in a shell of crystal, bringing the "City Forged of Light" described in the sacred texts down into the mortal world. Within this sea brimming with holy light, the bishops, robed in sumptuous vestments and crowned with diadems, were devoutly extolling the power of the God of Holy Light. Layer upon layer of prayer surged together with the sea of holy cloud in the hall, ceaselessly gathering toward the pontiff standing at the center of the hall—
Saint Ivan III stood there, the platinum scepter symbolizing divine authority in his grasp. He raised high the hand that held it and, for the first time, struck the scepter heavily against the ground.
"Praise the name of the Lord. May Your will be done upon the earth, that the earth be bathed in grace, and all living things find shelter and absolution!"
Radiance poured from the apertures of the pontiff's face, as though a mighty source of light were filling him from within and striving to break free of this prison of flesh and blood.
Amid the bishops' unison of praise, he struck the scepter against the ground a second time.
"Praise the name of the Lord. May Your will be done in the heavens, that the world be lit by radiance, that evil find nowhere to hide, and darkness nowhere to conceal itself!"