Dragging the Church of the Black Night into the fray was essential—it was the foundation of everything. If the Church of the Black Night refused to step in, the agreement made with President Olei would lose its prerequisite, and the old president would undoubtedly wash his hands of the affair and stay out of it.
After all, it was now confirmed that the medicine could be produced, meaning the plague was no longer an insurmountable crisis. There was no need for him to risk taking a stand for a trump card that might not even see use—especially considering how deeply enigmatic the Shadow Alliance was, leaving everyone uncertain of what tricks they had up their sleeves.
However, figuring out how to persuade that old fox Trinlais had taken Lynch a long time to contemplate.
To go head-to-head with the Shadow Alliance for the sake of a mystery relic that might not even be used would not only likely result in casualties and material loss, but if anything went wrong, they would also face public condemnation and a ruined reputation. Putting himself in their shoes, Lynch knew he wouldn't agree to such a thing either.
Appealing to reason or emotion were merely bonus points under the current circumstances; they weren't decisive factors. That was precisely the reason for Trinlais's earlier silence. Even if the archbishop wanted to help, he had to consider the entire church.
Thus, the only viable approach was to address the church as a whole—enticing them with profits, engaging in equal exchange where each got what they needed, and tying their interests together. As long as he promised benefits tempting enough to sway them while minimizing the risks as much as possible, there was no fear of the old fox not taking the bait.
President Olei's involvement had already reduced the risk in terms of top-tier combat power. What remained was offering an incentive alluring enough for the church.
Gods might not necessarily love mortals, or even this world, but they certainly loved mortal faith—or at least, their believers and churches did.
To a church, faith not only represented an increase in influence and speaking power, but it also translated into tangible donations. The church was, after all, composed of mortal beings who could not rise above worldly matters.
As for whether deities actually needed faith, Lynch had no idea, but none of the deities objected to it. A single deity not objecting might just be personal preference, but when all twelve major gods tacitly showed no objection, that alone was telling enough.
Lynch wasn't repulsed by this; in fact, he quite approved of the attitude.
There was no love without cause in this world, and no one was obligated to help without reason. Regardless of the motivation, doing good and helping someone deserved a reward. If deities protected mortals, they deserved faith in return—and rightfully so.
So he had already thought through his approach: instead of testing the other party's bottom line, he would play his ultimate card right off the bat.
In the past, this affair wouldn't have generated much faith. But tonight, Lynch's press conference had changed everything. Starting tomorrow, the Shadow Alliance would become enemy number one to the whole world. As a primary force standing against this global threat, the Goddess of the Night would receive no less faith than the Lord of Suffering. The cost was merely protecting the Torch of Light for a few days, backed by the city's top combat power. Naturally, the scales in the archbishop's mind tipped in his favor.
By the time the carriage arrived at the Black Night Cathedral, it was already four in the morning.
The red moon had vanished, the silver moon sank into the western sky, and the stars were sparse.
The castle-like Black Night Cathedral was engulfed in utter darkness, towering in the night like something mysterious and profound as darkness itself.
As the three of them appeared at the cathedral's entrance, the tightly closed doors slowly swung open, revealing a dark, long corridor behind them. Only the silver-white moonlight passing through the stained glass cast mottled shadows across the hall.
“Uh, do you usually keep the lights off?” Lynch sighed. “You didn't forget to pay the gas bill, did you?”
“The dark night has given us eyes to see through darkness. We do not mind the dark—it is the grace of the Lord.” Amid President Olei's chuckles, Archbishop Trinlais sighed deeply and explained, “Many servants of the Lord prefer remaining in the cathedral at night to listen to the whispers of the night. The nocturnal cathedral is a paradise where the Lord soothes the souls of Her believers. We generally do not light lamps, as doing so would coat our piety and love in dust. You may light a lamp if you wish, just do not make too much commotion.”
“Mhm, I am a follower of moonlight, obeying the teachings of the Lord. The Lord said, let there be light.”
He then flicked a lighter and held it high above his head. Hm, it actually made it harder to see the path—it would've been better not to light it at all.
“Why hasn't the Crimson Lady just...” Trinlais rolled up his sleeves, suppressing the urge to strike him. “Please enter. In truth, the Lord dislikes being disturbed at night, but right now it is... Hm?”
As Trinlais was explaining, the three walked inward along the dim light. Above them was a pitch-black arched dome, symbolizing the endless dark night. However, before the archbishop could finish his sentence, a speck of starlight flickered to life on the dome.
Lynch had noticed it during the day: golden stars adorned the dome. He had assumed they were merely ordinary decorations, but now he realized they could actually shine. That single speck of starlight acted like a signal; the next instant, star after star lit up in sequence, stretching down the long corridor like a welcoming guard or guiding beacons, extending neatly into the depths of the cathedral.
Trinlais's expression tightened. He drew a five-pointed star across his chest—the symbol representing the dark night. Then, bowing in silence, he waited until the starlight had stretched into the cathedral's depths before straightening his back and sighing.
“Very well. Praise the dark night. The starlight has illuminated the road home for you. So, welcome home, Child of the Black Night, follower of moonlight.”
With that, the archbishop flicked his holy robe and made a welcoming gesture:
“Please proceed along the guidance of the starlight. The Lord has heard the footsteps of Her child returning home, and is eagerly awaiting.”
Following his words, numerous figures wearing Black Night holy robes stepped out from both sides of the corridor. Every one of them pressed a hand to their chest and bowed low to Lynch. Their silent silhouettes loomed subtly in the darkness, somewhat eerie, yet imbued with gravity and solemnity.
‘Hey, hello, are you there?’
【Not here.】
‘??? I told you not to peek at my old chat logs with netizens. I really miss the days when you would softly say "I'm here." Whatever, you don't object to me going in, right?’
A gentle female voice echoed softly: 【Go ahead. Even if She harbors malice toward you, She will not act on it right now. You are safe.】
‘No, I was asking if my going in will have any effect on you.’
【...】 After a moment of silence, a quiet chuckle sounded in his mind: 【Thank you. No need to worry about me—I am very safe.】
‘I wasn't worrying about you! Fine, maybe a tiny bit of worry, but just a tiny bit.’
Lynch breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted to imitate these professional priests by drawing some grand gesture across his chest to put on airs, but after racking his brain without coming up with a good motion, he simply drew a circle over his chest.
A full moon in the sky, right? Lynch figured this gesture was fitting enough. Sure enough, his aura instantly became that of a charlatan priest. Under the watchful eyes of the many clergy, Lynch adjusted his lapels, handed the Torch of Light to President Olei and Trinlais, took a deep breath, and stepped forward along the guidance of the starlight.
The light was dim, yet it perfectly illuminated the small space right beneath his feet.
The dark cathedral, the solemn, respectful, yet silent crowd, the guiding stars, the gathering ring of light—everything was profoundly quiet, save for his clear footsteps advancing deeper down the long corridor.
He lost track of how long he walked; time seemed to lose its meaning here. Lynch didn't know where he was going or where the path ended.
However, seeing the surrounding darkness grow ever deeper and the starlight overhead become increasingly brilliant, a sudden thought struck Lynch. He stopped in his tracks and bowed slightly forward. “A follower of the Crimson Moon comes specifically to listen to the whispers of the Black Night.”
Before his voice had even faded, his vision went dark, and without his realizing it, Lynch had stepped into the void.
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