Just then, a word he had forgotten for nearly three years suddenly flashed in his mind like a holy light piercing through the darkness.
“Prayer Initiation.”
This was an unspoken “secret ritual” circulating quietly among the male clergy within the Holy Papacy.
After all, clerics were still flesh and blood. As mortals, they had desires and emotions.
To help his fellow brethren manage these restless urges without violating the sacred codes and suffering immediate divine punishment, an unnamed sage had creatively devised this “Prayer Initiation Ritual.”
At its core, the ritual involved deep meditation to visualize the deity one worshiped in the spiritual realm.
Through this practice, the practitioner would offer the excess “vital energy” and “wandering thoughts” within their body as a “Soul Sacrifice” to the gods.
The official Church doctrine framed it thus:
“God is the supreme, formless, and genderless existence. Visualizing God is an expression of sincere faith. Offering one’s entire being to God is the highest honor of a cleric. This is not blasphemy but the ultimate union of soul and divinity.”
When Fan Zhuo first transmigrated, hearing this almost made his jaw drop.
Good grief, these otherworlders sure knew how to play with words!
Praying to God? And calling it a “Soul Sacrifice” to make it sound better?
Still, as a man from the 21st century, Fan Zhuo already understood that gods didn’t have fixed forms.
The so-called divine image was simply what the gods wanted mortals to perceive.
During his three years of training in the Holy City, Fan Zhuo devoted himself entirely to mechanical theology and symbology, working himself to exhaustion every day.
Coupled with the physical suppression of the [Ring of Holiness], he had almost forgotten he was a normal man, and naturally, he had never resorted to this “convenient” way of releasing desire.
But now… the situation was different.
The fire inside him was about to burn through his sanity.
…Well, might as well try everything once.
Fan Zhuo took a deep breath, lay back on the bed, and closed his eyes.
Following the steps of the “Prayer Initiation Ritual” from memory, he emptied his mind and began guiding his spiritual energy.
First, he had to choose a visualization target.
According to the Holy Scripture Gospel of Radiance, beneath the Throne of Light of the Supreme God stood six Seraphim, each governing different authorities.
They were the extensions of God’s will, the highest beings mortals could comprehend and visualize.
The first, the Seraph of Blazing Flame, wielded “Judgment” and “War,” depicted as a stern warrior holding a flaming holy sword.
—Too violent. He’d probably be turned to ashes before even starting.
The second, the Seraph of Winter, governed “Order” and “Law,” appearing as a silent frost monarch.
—Too cold. Just thinking about it made him feel numb.
The third, the Seraph of Shadows, held dominion over “Knowledge” and “Fate,” forever shrouded in eternal darkness—no one had ever seen its true face.
—Too mysterious. What if it’s a tsundere beauty? …Hmm, maybe acceptable? No, too risky.
The fourth, the Seraph of Creation, ruled over “Machinery” and “Progress,” also the guardian deity of Fan Zhuo’s mechanical church.
—Too familiar. He saw its statue every day and was practically sick of it. No desire whatsoever. Maybe if it wore different clothes…
The fifth, the Seraph of Desire, controlled “Emotion” and “Freedom.” The scripture was vague, only describing it as “the embodiment of all desires.”
—Sounds dangerous. Feels like a trap. No thanks!
By process of elimination, only one remained.
The sixth, the Seraph of Mercy, governed “Healing” and “Redemption.” The gentlest and kindest of all angels, its holy light could soothe all pain.
This was the one!
It sounded safe and gentle, like a caring big sister next door.
Fan Zhuo focused his mind, silently reciting the sacred name of the Seraph of Mercy.
In the next instant, his consciousness was pulled away by an invisible force, instantly falling into a boundless, pure white spiritual space.
At the center stood a towering Throne of Light formed from radiant brilliance.
Fan Zhuo knew that during a normal Prayer Initiation Ritual, due to the limitations of mortal souls and the automatic shielding of Divine Light Magic, the throne and angels they perceived would appear as a vague, indescribable glow.
But…
Before Fan Zhuo’s eyes, there was no holy light, no blur…
“Uh?”
His 21st-century soul from another world acted like a master key, effortlessly bypassing all the world’s “Rule Firewalls.”
What he saw was an unfiltered, raw, and most authentic scene!
On the throne sat an angel, serene and still.
Bathed in a soft, moonlight-like holy radiance, their silver hair flowed like a waterfall, as if woven from the very stars.
Their face bore a compassionate, infinitely gentle smile, one that could erase all worries just by gazing upon it.
Perfect… holy… merciful…
Fan Zhuo was momentarily stunned.
But as his eyes slowly moved downward, his breath caught.
There was a pair of…
Words could not describe… “enormous.”
Fan Zhuo swore that none of the characters from the anime, games, or various learning materials he had seen before his transmigration could compare even a fraction to this angel’s scale.
This was beyond “majestic” or “grandiose.”
It was a pure, unreasonable enormity that defied all laws of physics and aesthetics.
The thin, cicada-wing-like robe woven from holy light seemed fragile and about to be torn apart by this overwhelming vastness.
Fan Zhuo’s mind buzzed and went blank.
He even forgot why he had come.
He just stared blankly, as the fire deep in his soul—kindled moments ago by the white rabbit—seemed doused with a bucket of ultra-pure aerospace fuel, erupting explosively!
Meanwhile, atop the throne, the angel who had maintained that merciful smile suddenly seemed… aware.
Slowly, very slowly, they lowered their eyelids.
Those gentle eyes that seemed to hold the entire universe precisely fixed on Fan Zhuo, the tiny, disrespectful voyeur.
Then, their expression changed.
That compassionate smile vanished.
In its place was a mixture of surprise, shock, and a trace of… offended wrath.
Alarm bells rang loudly in Fan Zhuo’s heart.
Not good! He’d been discovered!
He tried to abort the ritual and withdraw.
But it was too late.
The Seraph of Mercy slowly raised their plump, perfect right foot, as if sculpted by the gods themselves.
Then, gently… stepped in Fan Zhuo’s direction.
Suddenly, Fan Zhuo’s vision went black.
An overwhelming, irresistible force struck down across endless space and time with unerring precision.
“Bang!”
Back in the real world, Fan Zhuo’s body twitched violently, his eyes rolled back, and he fell stiffly backward onto the bed.
A trickle of crimson fluid slowly dripped from his nostrils.
He had been put to sleep with a single divine kick…