Chapter 130: Meeting the God

How important was Felia to Maria? From one point of view, Maria could have died for her. The willingness to sacrifice her own life said everything about the girl’s place in her heart.

They had finally moved into their new home, ready to begin a quiet, ordinary life. Yet before the dust had even settled, a group of Radiant Church clerics appeared, announcing that they would be taking Felia away. For Lady Maria, that was nothing less than a slap to the face. Even if she had always harbored a certain respect for the Shepherds of the Lord, this was something she could never tolerate. No one touched her sister. Not for faith, not for law, not for gods.

The air froze solid.

The slender-eyed woman in men’s clothing stood silently before the clerics, her posture calm but dangerous, while the Radiant Church envoy met her with equal resolve. The tension between them was like a hair-trigger fuse, ready to explode at the faintest spark.

“Sister Maria,” said the lead cleric, his voice smooth as glass. “As a Shepherd, your duty is to offer yourself to the will of the Lord. Has your father Lynn not taught you this?”

Lucifel’s smile was pleasant, even courteous. But beneath that surface warmth lay a suffocating authority, the kind that bent the air around him. This was not the bearing of an ordinary divine messenger—it was the weight of one accustomed to speaking for the throne of light itself. His tone carried familiarity when he mentioned her father, as if the two had once shared some hidden bond.

“If you don’t leave now,” Maria said coldly, “I’ll call the guards.”

Her calm returned, but behind her steady eyes calculation flickered. They were in the Upper District of Torrent City—the most secure part of the capital. Eyes from the Weavebinder's Guild and the Military Intelligence Bureau were always watching. If the Radiant Church made the first move, they would pay for it dearly.

In fact, the moment these priests had entered the district, watchers had likely marked their every step.

Lucifel sighed softly. “So stubborn. Just like your father.”

He smiled faintly and took half a step back. His right hand rose, open and unthreatening. It was not a gesture of attack—it was one of revelation.

“If you recognize this,” he said, his tone cooling like tempered steel, “then you understand that the will of the Lord cannot be defied.”

A spark bloomed in his palm. A fire, white as sunlight through snow, flared to life. The air rippled with warmth, flowers in the courtyard outside burst into bloom, and a soft wind carried faint hymns that whispered of sanctity.

Maria’s pupils contracted sharply.

That flame—!

For the first time, her composure faltered. She knew what that light meant. She knew what kind of power it represented.

Divine Fire.

After the rise of the 2.0 update, the true gods had revealed a new gift: a sacred fire through which their will could descend directly into the world. Through it, their presence could reach any battlefield, any altar, as if they stood there themselves. Those who bore the Divine Fire carried more than their own faith—they carried the living will of their god.

Which meant—

“The Lord commands,” Lucifel intoned softly, “that Her Grace Felia be brought to the Holy City. All who stand against this command, even you, Sister Maria, will be erased.”

Maria’s throat tightened. She stared at the burning white flame, her lips trembling before she could form words.

Then, from above, a lazy drawl cut through the silence.
“Well, isn’t that a bit much? Ever heard of justice? Or decency?”

From the second-floor railing, Gehrman crouched like a lounging beast, peering down at them. His expression was one of casual amusement, but the look in his eyes was that of a predator. One wrong move, and he’d strike.

In that moment, Maria felt the chill in her chest fade. Gehrman was standing with her.

Lucifel looked up at him. “Good day, Mister Gehrman.”

“Do I know you?” Gehrman grinned, scratching his ear. “Because I don’t remember ever meeting you.” His tone carried no respect for divine emissaries, no fear of gods.

“The Lord is almighty,” Lucifel murmured, his voice serene. But his eyes flickered with calculation. He recognized the man’s power. Unless forced, he had no wish to start a fight with him.

Maria finally spoke. “Come inside.”

Lucifel’s brows lifted slightly. She had broken the stalemate on her own terms. The Radiant’s flame was here—sooner or later, she would have to confront it. Whether for Felia’s sake or for her father’s, she needed to face the will behind that fire.

In the parlor, before the glowing fireplace, the clerics stood reverently as Felia entered the room. One by one, they bowed deeply, performing the holy gesture of greeting reserved for divine bloodlines.

The sincerity in their movements was undeniable. They weren’t faking reverence—they truly honored the girl. But where did that reverence come from? Even Maria couldn’t guess.

Felia shrank behind her sister, clutching the hem of Maria’s cloak. The same girl who once swore she’d become a priest and “have a long talk” with that scoundrel Gehrman now looked like a frightened child, her courage melting away under so many watchful eyes.

“I… I’ll listen to my sister,” she whispered. Her voice was barely audible.

Lucifel turned to Maria. “Sister Maria—”

“I wish to speak to the Lord’s will directly.” Her voice was low, firm. The words themselves were audacious. To demand audience with the Lord of sunlight was something even high priests hesitated to do.

Lucifel hesitated. He did have the authority to connect her to the Divine through the Fire—if the Lord permitted it.

After a long pause, he raised the flame and closed his eyes.

Moments later, he opened them again, and his face showed mild surprise. “The Lord is merciful. Your request is granted.”

Even for a god known for benevolence, this was unexpected. The Lord of sunlight was not in the habit of entertaining mortal defiance.

The fire blazed higher with a sudden, joyous roar. Light poured out, filling the room, wrapping Maria and Felia in its warmth. The air became soft and fragrant, a tender heat brushing Maria’s skin like a mother’s hand. For an instant, she forgot her fear. Her heart loosened, her eyes stung.

Why does this feel so familiar?

She let the pull take her. The warmth became light, and the light became motion. Then the world around her folded away.

She drifted through a sea of color—thousands of orbs of light, each pulsing with its own hue, its own intent. The space had no up or down, no horizon, no gravity—only a fluid, shifting ocean of divine thought.

Then the lights thinned. Darkness swallowed everything. Maria found herself standing—though she had no body—in a boundless black abyss, a silence so heavy it made her pulse race. The stillness pressed on her from all sides.

This was no ordinary void. It was the deep sea beneath creation. Here, unseen powers waited in silence, beings whose presence could unmake her with a glance.

She felt the pull again, guiding her upward through the dark waters, until the abyss brightened into a blue sky, radiant and endless. The light gathered into a world above the clouds—pure, dazzling, and terrible.

And she knew instantly where she was.

The domain of the Radiant Lord.

Here, light was not gentle—it was truth, laid bare. Every thought, every memory, every doubt was visible. The warmth she had felt moments ago now cut like glass, stripping away every shadow within her.

Maria trembled, not in fear, but in awe.

And then, from the sea of light, a voice spoke.

It was neither male nor female. It was the sound of the sun itself—the voice of something vast and eternal, a sound that resonated through her bones and through the fabric of her soul.

“Child of Lynn,” it said. “Do you fear Me?”

Maria lowered her gaze. “I… do not. But I do not understand. Why Felia?”

“Because the seed has awakened,” said the voice. “The song within her has reached the heavens. The world moves toward its reckoning, and My light must be where the darkness gathers.”

“She’s just a child.”

“All light begins as a fragile flame,” the Lord replied. “You would shield her from Me, yet it was I who gave her to your family. You call her sister, but she is also My vessel.”

Maria’s hands clenched. “Then take me instead.”

For a long moment, there was silence.

Then, gentle as dawn breaking, the voice answered. “You are already taken.”

Her breath caught. The light around her swelled, and images flickered at the edge of her mind—her father standing beneath the old chapel’s bell tower, his hands stained with blood and fire; Gehrman at the edge of a dream, his gaze fixed on the moon; herself, kneeling at the altar years ago, the first time she had spoken the Lord’s name.

“You walk paths that mirror your father’s,” said the voice. “His faith burned bright. But he looked beyond Me, and in doing so, he found the abyss. Tell Me, Maria—will you do the same?”

Her throat ached. “I don’t know.”

“Then choose,” said the Lord. “Follow your will, or follow Mine. Both lead to Me, in the end.”

The light dimmed. The warmth began to fade. The voice softened into silence.

When Maria opened her eyes again, she was back in the parlor. The fire was gone. Lucifel and the other clerics knelt, their heads bowed. Felia stood before her, wide-eyed and trembling.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Maria looked at the girl she had sworn to protect—and for the first time, she did not know whether she was looking at her sister or at something far greater.