The cathedral's bells pealed once more, their deep notes reverberating through the vaulted ceilings until the marble itself seemed to hum. The crowd fell into an uneasy hush. A wave of incense rolled through the air, thick and sweet, settling in lungs like smoke. The priests in white and gold robes moved into formation, their voices rising in a unified chant that carried to every corner of the hall.
At the altar, a high priest stepped forward. His robes were embroidered with golden suns, his jeweled staff catching the light of a hundred chandeliers. With a grand sweep of his hand, silence overtook the congregation.
"Blessed children of Aria," his voice boomed, magically amplified, "today we gather not as kingdoms divided, but as one people under the goddess's eternal light. She who cast down the shadows, who brought forth champions from beyond the stars, who shields us from ruin—Aria, mother of salvation!"
The crowd erupted, cheers shaking the golden pillars. Nobles pressed jeweled hands together, merchants wept openly, and commoners raised their voices until the sound became a storm of devotion. Farmers from the outskirts knelt with calloused hands raised skyward, while children tugged on their mothers' sleeves, eyes wide with awe at the shimmering altar. Even guards standing at the periphery dropped to one knee, banging fists to their breastplates in rhythm with the chant. The air quivered with faith so raw it seemed almost tangible.
The trio sat in their reserved section, the intensity of the faith around them like a crushing tide.
Drathan leaned back, eyes narrowed. "Damn. They eatin' this up like free bread."
Kenshin smirked, whispering, "Bruh, this a PR campaign if I ever saw one. She flexin' us, makin' it look like she pulled heroes out the sky just 'cause she care."
Seme crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Shit wild… they really think she did this for them, not for herself."
Their mutters were drowned beneath the priest's rising sermon. "Behold the heroes she has given us! Flesh and blood proof of her mercy! They walk among you not as mortals, but as shields of divinity. With their strength, we endure. With their victories, we prosper. With their sacrifices, Aria reigns eternal!"
The people shouted until their throats were raw. Nobles cried openly, diamonds and rubies trembling on their robes, merchants clutched ledgers to their chests as if sanctifying their wealth, and farmers bowed with mud-stained clothes pressed to the marble floor. Children mimicked prayer motions with clumsy hands, their voices high and shrill with innocence. Some fainted from sheer fervor, collapsing in the pews with blissful smiles still frozen on their lips. The trio exchanged glances.
"Yo, they really drinkin' the Kool-Aid," Kenshin muttered under his breath.
"More like drownin' in it," Drathan replied, tone flat.
Seme's inner thoughts simmered, her eyes locked on the altar. All this for what? For her pride? She clenched her jaw, whispering, "If they knew the truth, half these fools would burn this place down."
Kenshin snorted. "Nah, sis. They too far gone. Look at 'em—eyes glazed like fresh donuts. Ain't no comin' back."
Mira sat beside them, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her eyes shimmered with tears she fought to hold back. The faith drilled into her since childhood pulled her toward the chants, the rituals, the promise of divine love. But the trio's words gnawed at her heart. She wanted to believe the goddess was benevolent, the savior everyone proclaimed her to be. Yet doubt rooted itself deeper with every whispered remark. The grandeur, the spectacle—it wasn't proof of love. It was proof of control. If Aria truly loved us, Mira thought, why must she take so much just to prove it?
The sermon shifted into ritual. Priests spread across the hall, lighting braziers filled with sacred oils. Flames leapt skyward, sending shimmering waves across the jeweled altar. The high priest lifted a chalice carved from crystal, filled with shimmering liquid.
"With this offering," he intoned, "we pledge our lives to Aria. To fight, to bleed, to die—for her glory!"
The crowd roared as one: "For her glory!"
Drathan exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the altar. "Y'all feel that? That ain't just words. Every shout, every prayer—it's power. She siphoning all of it."
Seme clicked her tongue. "Damn parasite."
Kenshin leaned back, folding his arms, smirk still in place. "A parasite with good marketing. Gotta respect the hustle… even if it's foul as hell."
Drathan's inner thoughts darkened. If this is what she does with worship, then what else is she hiding? He kept his face calm, though, letting a smirk tug at his lips. "Ain't no way I'm bowin' to this."
The ritual reached its peak as the congregation pressed their foreheads to the floor, bodies bowed low in unified devotion. Golden light swelled from the altar, flooding the chamber like a rising tide. It poured down the aisles, climbing the walls, saturating every surface until the very air seemed to shimmer. The faithful trembled in ecstasy, some gasping as if touched by heaven itself, their eyes glazed with bliss. To them, it was divine love incarnate, a warmth filling their souls. To the trio, it was the leash tightening, chains woven from belief and submission.
And while the crowd offered up their souls, the heroes whispered in the shadows of their thoughts, unbent and unbroken.