Greg did not step forward to greet them.
On one hand, it was because they were departing soon; on the other hand, he felt there was nothing particular to say at the moment.
They were going to set off together anyway, so there would be plenty of time on the road.
He scanned the entire team.
There were ten representatives each for the first, second, and third years. Combined with their respective Instructors and the academy leaders heading the delegation, the entire group numbered only about sixty people.
Though small in number, every person in this team was an elite selected through layer upon layer of screening, representing the strongest combat power of Glory Cael Magic Academy.
Additionally, it was worth noting that Greg noticed Catherine was missing from the second-year representatives.
This was not surprising, as Catherine did not participate in the Hundred Academy Exchange during the story's Act Three in the original game.
This was not because she wasn't selected as a representative, but because managing her chamber of commerce was more important to her than participating in the exchange meeting, so she had voluntarily given up the chance to participate.
However, she wouldn't be absent from the subsequent Act Four Five Academy Tournament story arc because of this.
Dragons were inherently greedy and loved money, and Catherine's family maintained close ties with the Grand Duchess of the Dragon Duchy, so she would attend to watch the tournament as an invited guest when the time came.
Just as Greg's thoughts drifted far away, two figures finally rushed over to the assembly point.
Victoria had already changed into a neat academy uniform, her gray hair brushed tidy. Though a trace of fatigue still lingered on her face, it did not diminish her delicate beauty.
Alice, meanwhile, had changed into a brand-new professor's robe. Though it was still that oversized style, it clearly fitted her better than her old one.
She still looked a bit nervous, her hands constantly adjusting her cuffs and hem, but an expectant light sparkled in her eyes.
With that, all personnel were officially accounted for.
The clamor on the square gradually died down, and everyone's eyes turned toward the figure standing in front of the airship—Headmistress Olivia.
Although she was still dressed in attire that closely resembled a hot cowgirl, she wore a dark robe draped over the outermost layer—seemingly at the request of the other professors—making her look considerably more decent at the very least.
She looked around at everyone present, then slowly opened her mouth:
"I won't waste words on needless nonsense. I have only one requirement for you."
She raised her right hand high, making an internationally friendly gesture: "Go and %#**%#¥!"
Greg: ?
The surrounding students: "Ooh-ooh!!!!"
Greg: ???
Listening to the enthusiastic cheers of the students, the corners of Olivia's lips curled into an aggressively predatory smile:
"Well then—I declare, departure!"
...
Imperial Capital, Cathedral of Light, the small reception room next to the confessional.
The room was not large, but its furnishings were extremely refined. Milk-white Holy Light Stones were embedded into the walls, emitting a soft halo of light.
Hanging in the exact center was a massive holy icon of Serafina, the Goddess of Light—the Goddess had a broad bosom, holding scales and a broadsword, her gaze compassionate yet majestic.
On the candlestick below the icon, three rows of white tapers burned silently, their flames casting staggered shadows of light and dark across the face of the icon.
Bernard, the Bishop in White, stood by the window with his hands clasped in front of him, his gaze looking out at the darkening sky outside.
He was over fifty years old with graying temples, but his posture remained upright. His white bishop's robe was pressed impeccably, and the holy emblem on his chest glinted with a golden luster in the candlelight.
Standing a few paces behind him was a middle-aged man dressed in a dark blue vestment—Reinhardt, Deputy Director of the Inquisition.
He was a build broader than Bernard, with a sharp jawline, prominent brow bones, and a pair of gray eyes honed to sharpness by years of interrogating heretics.
He was a high-ranking member of the clergy specifically responsible for intelligence gathering and heretic trials within the Church, possessing an intelligence network that spanned the entire Imperial Capital.
"Lord Bernard."
Reinhardt lowered his voice and spoke:
"Recently, abnormal magic fluctuations have indeed appeared deep within the Imperial Capital Dungeon. According to reports from scouts at the front lines, the activity patterns of the monsters inside have changed noticeably. I wonder if something deeper within the dungeon is affecting them."
"At present, this news is still sealed within our internal ranks; the royal family remains unaware. Should I send people to infiltrate the dungeon and investigate beforehand?"
Bernard did not answer immediately.
He fell silent for a moment, his fingertips lightly tapping twice on the windowsill before he slowly shook his head. "No need. The Archbishop has already made arrangements."
Reinhardt frowned slightly. "Arrangements?"
"The Archbishop has already sent word to the Holy City, asking the Saintess to come to the Imperial Capital under the pretext of observing the Hundred Academy Exchange."
Bernard turned around, the candlelight dancing slightly across his aging face.
"Her Highness the Saintess should arrive very soon. When that time comes, matters regarding the dungeon will naturally be handed over to her to deal with. We only need to make preparations to welcome her."
Reinhardt nodded, his expression softening slightly.
With the Saintess herself acting, it was indeed far more secure than them rashly venturing deep into the dungeon.
He pondered for a moment, then remembered another matter:
"Speaking of the Hundred Academy Exchange... Candidate Saintess Lady Silvia seems to be coming to the Imperial Capital alongside the delegation from Glory Cael Magic Academy as well, right?"
The moment that name left his mouth, the air in the room seemed to freeze slightly for a second.
Bernard's expression darkened slightly, a complex emotion flashing through his eyes, which had settled through many years of service in the Church.
He remained silent for two or three breaths before speaking, his voice several shades lower than before:
"Neither the Archbishop nor the current Saintess likes this Candidate Saintess. The Archbishop believes that although Lady Silvia bears the title of Candidate Saintess, her faith in the Goddess of Light is not devout enough."
He paused, then continued, "So it is better if we do not contact her on our own initiative."
Reinhardt's brows furrowed even deeper. Weighing his words, he could not help but say:
"But... Lord Bernard, Lady Silvia's status as a candidate was not chosen internally by the Church; it was personally decreed by Lady Serafina, the Goddess of Light, through a divine oracle. If we act like this, will we truly not suffer punishment from Her Grace?"
That question was like a fine thorn, gently pricking Bernard's heart.
He fell silent for a long time—so long that even the flames on the candlestick flickered.
Ultimately, he let out a soft sigh that sounded exceptionally heavy in the empty reception room.
"Reinhardt."
He spoke slowly, his voice carrying a weary weight born of living through many trials:
"Her Grace the Goddess has not personally descended for far... far too long. Has it been a hundred years? Two hundred years? Or even longer...? Right now within the Church, the right to speak clearly rests heavier with the Archbishop."
"Though those in the Holy Choir occasionally murmur complaints, they will not publicly oppose the Archbishop for the sake of a mere candidate."
He turned around and looked out the window once more.
Night had fallen completely, and the city lights lit up one after another, like a starry sky reflected upon the earth.
His gaze passed beyond those lights toward the far skyline, his voice turning very faint, as if speaking only to himself:
"If Lady Serafina were to descend right now and see the Church looking like this... she would surely be deeply disappointed."
The candlelight flickered, and the gaze of the holy icon seemed to be painted with an indescribable layer of compassion amid the light and shadow.
Rate on N.U.
