As soon as the carriage entered the city, a radiant light seemed to burst across the skyline. Cheers erupted all around, a wave of joy washing over the streets. The boy, wide-eyed and curious, leaned out the window—only to be met with a sight that took his breath away.
Confetti soared into the sky like glittering feathers. People danced, sang, and waved banners bearing symbols of the divine. The entire city had come alive. It was like a festival had been thrown in his honor.
The boy could feel it—the joy, the hope, the prayers—not just at the gates, but flowing all along the road. The celebration didn't end until they reached the inner sanctum: the Holy Gates of the Church itself.
When the carriage finally stopped, Lucas found himself in front of a serene and breathtaking garden. The flowers were in full bloom, the scent of lilacs and roses perfuming the air. A uniformed guard opened the carriage door and stepped aside.
"Young Lord, we have arrived at the Church," the guard said, bowing and extending his arm respectfully.
Lucas gave a small nod and stepped out.
The moment his foot touched the ground, he felt something unusual—a warmth, gentle and embracing, as if the earth itself welcomed him. For a brief moment, he felt like he had returned home... to a place he'd never known he missed.
Waiting for him was an elderly man in his sixties, dressed in regal holy robes. Despite the rows of holy knights standing on guard, the old man's warm smile eased the weight on Lucas's shoulders.
"Hello, young man," the elder said kindly. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I am the Holy Pope. May I know your name?"
Lucas placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly, responding with calm respect.
"My name is Lucas."
The Pope's smile deepened.
"Lucas, hmm? The Light Bringer. I like it. We'll speak more later… for now, come with me. Let's greet the people, shall we?"
Lucas followed, still taking in the magnificence of the great cathedral. As they walked through a high-arched hallway, golden light poured through stained-glass windows, illuminating murals of gods and battles, shields and swords proudly displayed on the marble walls.
Noticing Lucas's quiet wonder, the Pope smiled again and gently opened a grand door at the end of the hall.
It led to a balcony overlooking the city square. The moment they stepped out, the crowd below roared with excitement.
Then the Pope raised his arms, his voice booming with power and warmth.
"MY BELOVED PEOPLE! WELCOME THE PROXY OF A NEW GOD! RISE WITH ME AND REJOICE—
FOR LUCAS!"
The people erupted in deafening cheers, their voices echoing off the stone buildings. The chant rose like thunder:
"FOR LUCAS! FOR LUCAS! FOR LUCAS!"
Lucas stood stunned on the balcony, heart pounding in his chest. A swelling pride, warm and foreign, took root within him.
And then… a familiar voice echoed in his mind.
"Didn't I tell you? You're destined for greatness. You were never meant to remain clueless in a forgotten corner of the world."
Lucas smiled faintly, eyes still fixed on the crowd.
"I don't know about being destined for greatness," he murmured, "but the glory… sure feels good."