Boom!Outside, lightning blazed across the heavens, followed by peals of thunder that shook the earth itself. The storm Robert had glimpsed brewing in the southeastern skies had finally arrived. In an instant, torrents of rain descended upon the cathedral, shrouding its lofty spires in a deluge of sound and fury.
An elder, peering grimly through the stained-glass window, furrowed his brows. Moments ago, tens of thousands had thronged the square before the cathedral, yet now, battered by wind and rain, the faint-hearted began to scatter. Many among them had not come for devotion, but merely out of idle curiosity at the promise of beholding the "fairest goddess." In a blink, the multitude dwindled to scarcely seven or eight thousand souls.
The old man gave a cold, disdainful snort, his finger stabbing toward Robert. "You—at once, inform Lord Ro. Tell him the rabble of Moonwatch lack true reverence for the goddess, fleeing at the mere touch of storm and thunder! See to it that no fewer than ten thousand stand assembled before the procession begins. The glory of the goddess must not be met with an empty square!"
Robert froze. Damnation! He had schemed so carefully to slip inside the cathedral and at last behold the visage of the divine beauty—yet fate had conspired to snatch the moment away at the very threshold.
But the command had been named upon him. However unwilling, however resentful, he could not defy it—for the elder before him was a high dignitary of the Yalan Church, his authority absolute.
Casting Sena a subtle glance, Robert signaled his timid friend to proceed ahead and glimpse the goddess's image alone, while he himself strode reluctantly out into the storm. Lightning split the skies, rain poured in sheets, and the once-crowded square lay nearly barren, save for the weary soldiers of Moonwatch, steadfastly maintaining order amidst the tempest.
Robert's lips curled in a wry grin. These men were not holy sentinels of the Church, but soldiers of his father's house—the private army of the Lord of Moonwatch. His father's soldiers, his family's blades.
"Power unspent is power wasted," he muttered under his breath. With casual arrogance, he halted one such guardsman and ordered him to carry the elder's command in his stead. Free of the burden, Robert hurried back, his heart pounding with impatience.
So long had he yearned for this moment, so fiercely did he crave to behold the goddess's perfection, that every step back toward the cathedral felt like an eternity lost.
At last he reached the vaulted corridor that led to the great hall. Exhaling slowly, he fixed a hungry smile upon his lips and pressed forward—one door alone stood between him and the unveiled glory of the world's most radiant goddess.
Just then, Sena stumbled out from within, eyes dazed, lips trembling. He stared at Robert for a long breath before clapping his friend's shoulder, whispering hoarsely, "Robert… it was worth it. To behold such beauty—ah, even should the professors discover our deception, even should they strip me of my station—I would count it a price well paid!"
Robert's legs felt weighted with molten iron; his friend's words fanned his anticipation into a consuming blaze.
Gently pushing aside the dazed Sena, he stepped into the great hall. The ceremony had not yet begun, and the vast chamber lay hushed and empty. His eyes fell at once upon a pair of crystalline, alabaster feet, flawless as carved jade.
The statue, towering more than ten meters, was said to be wrought of sacred materials, so lifelike in skin, hair, and gaze that, save for its size, one might mistake it for a living being. Robert had once doubted the rumors. Now, beholding the goddess's feet, he believed. Slowly, reverently, he drew his gaze upward along the curve of her graceful form—
Suddenly, thunder roared louder than all before, the cathedral shaking with the sound of collapsing stone. His eyes had just risen to her slender waist when instinct wrenched his head toward the window. Outside, rain lashed like whips, lightning raged unceasing, and in a single flash, several archways of nearby dwellings crumbled beneath the storm's wrath.
"Fear not!" a voice bellowed within the cathedral. "The statue of our goddess is hallowed, imbued with her own divine blessing. No mere lightning can mar this sacred house! Hold fast—our procession shall continue!"
Yet even as those words rang, the heavens answered in defiance. A searing bolt of violet-blue thunder, thick as a man's arm, tore through the storm, cleaving the skies. It struck the roof of the great hall in a shattering blaze.
The cathedral trembled—and then gave way. Roof and walls collapsed in a deafening cascade, bricks and rain crashing down upon Robert's head.
The lightning was not sated. It plunged straight into the ruins, striking the statue itself. With a sound like a blade through glass, the goddess's likeness splintered, her head and upper body blasted apart into fragments that scattered like falling stars.
Robert reeled in horror. Moments ago, they had sworn the statue was shielded by the goddess's own hand. If common lightning could not mar it—what force was this, that shattered it utterly? Was this a god's wrath? A declaration of war from one divinity to another?
He had no time to ponder. Glancing around, he saw the shattered statue's lower half still stood, its monumental legs forming a narrow shelter. If he did not take cover, he would be buried alive.
With a desperate leap, Robert dove beneath the folds of the carved gown. Almost at once, the cathedral's remains thundered down, entombing the hall in rubble.
Outside, chaos reigned—soldiers fled, citizens shrieked, the faithful scattered in terror. Within, the ruin lay silent, save for one strange thing…
A pale silver glow flickered in the shadows. A sphere of light, no larger than a thumb, drifted amidst the fallen stone, weaving soundlessly around the shattered statue until it hovered just behind Robert.
None knew whence it came—it was as if it had been born from the void itself.
The sphere pulsed, its argent light waxing and waning, as though studying the trembling youth clinging to the goddess's ruined leg. Then, in a flash, a thread of silver lanced out, touching the black-gloved hand Robert had pressed against the stone.
For a long moment, the light remained there, scanning. At last, a voice—clear, melodious, and inhuman—spoke within the shadows:
"Analysis complete. This lifeform's left hand is suitable for assimilation. Candidate confirmed: new bearer of the Star of Yalandis. Commencing fusion."
With that, the silver orb flared brilliantly. A beam like liquid lightning pierced through Robert's glove, merging seamlessly into the flesh of his hand.
"Fusion complete. From this moment forth, you are chosen as the master of the Star of Yalandis. The most formidable energies of the cosmos, and the highest wisdom of the stars, shall be yours. I, the Star of Yalandis, shall devote all my power to your ascension—until you stand among the mightiest of the divine."