The sacred bells of the Holy Empire had long since stopped ringing, but the air around the Pope's palace still trembled with tension. At the foot of the marble staircase, the twelve paladins of the Holy Regiment stood in formation, their armor gleaming beneath the sun like mirrors of divine will.
And then he arrived.
Roman Crowell the Warherald, the Goddess's chosen warrior landed before them like a comet that had fallen from heaven itself. Dust and golden motes scattered around him as he straightened his cloak, brushing his shoulders with calm indifference. The ground still sizzled faintly beneath his boots from the impact.
For a moment, no one spoke. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Then Roman broke the silence in his steady, confident voice.
"Is this the residence of His Holiness Pope Lucius Seraphael?" he asked, his tone polite yet commanding. "I am Roman Crowell, from the Presia Dukedom of the Clover Kingdom. My father, Duke Jacob Crowell, sent a letter regarding my meeting with His Holiness."
The paladins exchanged quick, stunned glances. A quiet murmur spread through the ranks.
> "He's so young…"
"Is that really him?"
"The Warherald…"
Their whispers faltered as Captain Gabriel Velk stepped forward, bowing with one hand on his chest. His voice was strong and formal.
"Welcome, honored guest. We were awaiting your arrival. The Holy Empire stands prepared for you."
Ezra Violet, standing beside him, turned to one of the younger paladin knights. "You. Inform His Holiness immediately. Tell him that Roman Crowell has arrived."
The young paladin saluted and sprinted toward the Pope's office. His armor clattered against the marble floors as he burst through the great doors of the inner sanctum, where Pope Lucius Seraphael sat surrounded by archbishops, priests, and the few nuns who had been summoned to witness this sacred event.
The paladin bowed deeply, his breath quick. "Your Holiness Roman Crowell has arrived! The paladins are escorting him to the palace!"
The room fell utterly silent.
Pope Lucius rose from his seat at once, his ornate robes flowing like liquid light. His expression softened with awe. "No. It would be a great insult to the Goddess's chosen warrior to make him come to us while we sit in arrogance."
He turned to the gathering of holy men and women. "I will go to greet him myself."
The archbishops, the selected priests, and the attending nuns followed immediately, their steps hurried yet reverent as the heavy doors opened.
Roman had begun ascending the staircase when Ezra spoke gently beside him.
"Roman Crowell… we have heard much about you and your deeds. Especially in Ephor."
Roman's gaze flickered toward her — sharp, measured, almost unreadable. "I hope what you heard was truth, not rumor," he said quietly.
Ezra smiled faintly. "No rumors. Only honor. You are being praised throughout the kingdoms."
Before he could reply, Gabriel received a message through his mana-linked crystal. The faint voice of Archbishop Desmond Herman echoed within his mind.
> "Captain Gabriel, His Holiness is coming personally to greet the Warherald. Prepare your regiment."
Gabriel's eyes widened slightly, then he turned toward Roman.
"Sir Roman, the Pope himself is coming to greet you. Please wait a moment."
Roman nodded casually and sat down on the stairs, completely at ease. The paladins stiffened no one had ever seen someone so calm before the highest authority of the Holy Empire.
He sighed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It took a while flying through the skies to get here," he muttered. "I needed the rest anyway."
He glanced toward the far side of the palace courtyard, where dozens of citizens had gathered behind the fences, peering curiously through the iron bars. Seeing their wide-eyed stares, Roman gave them an awkward smile and a small wave. Some gasped, others bowed, murmuring prayers under their breath.
A hush fell over the courtyard as the great gates opened.
The Pope emerged his white and gold robes glimmering, his staff shining faintly with divine light. Behind him walked the archbishops, priests, and nuns, their eyes reverent and full of awe.
"Where is he?" the Pope asked softly.
Gabriel pointed toward the steps. "There, Your Holiness. Sitting just there."
When the Pope's eyes found Roman, he froze.
To everyone else, Roman looked like any young noble poised, calm, composed. But to the Pope's divine sight, he was a blinding sun.
A vast, golden aura radiated from his body, swirling with streaks of black and white energy the perfect balance of Yin and Yang. The holy and the abyss coexisted within him, harmonized in divine symmetry.
Lucius's breath caught.
> "This power… it surpasses mortal limits," he whispered. "He walks at the threshold of the divine. A demigod… no, something beyond."
Archbishop Desmond gently touched his shoulder. "Your Holiness, we should greet him."
The Pope nodded and took a step forward.
Roman turned at the sound of their approach and immediately stood. His eyes softened as he bowed respectfully.
"Your Holiness, I greet you. Forgive my sudden arrival and lack of formal notice, but I have urgent matters to discuss."
The Pope blinked out of his trance and hurriedly stepped forward. "No, no, my son. It is I who am honored."
He reached out, taking Roman's hands gently before bowing low and pressing a kiss to them.
"I thank the Goddess Aria for allowing me this moment. To meet her chosen one in this lifetime… truly, her grace is boundless."
Roman blinked, slightly taken aback. "Please, Your Holiness. It is not right for an elder to bow to someone younger."
The witnesses gasped softly — no one had ever seen the Pope bow to any mortal but the statue of the Goddess herself.
Archbishop Desmond stepped forward quickly, breaking the stunned silence. "Let us continue inside, Your Holiness. The Warherald has much to discuss."
He signaled Captain Gabriel.
At once, the twelve paladins moved in perfect unison, forming a living circle around Roman. Their shields shimmered faintly as they surrounded him like divine bodyguards.
Archbishop Desmond raised his voice, echoing across the courtyard:
> "By decree of His Holiness, the Pope's Palace is under lockdown until further notice! None shall enter or leave!"
The gates thundered shut.
And so, with Roman walking at the center the Warherald flanked by the Pope, the archbishops, and the twelve shining paladins the procession moved solemnly toward the grand chamber of the Pope's office.
The air was thick with reverence.
Every step Roman took echoed with destiny.