At this very moment, in the Central District of the kingdom, inside the Martyrs’ Cemetery overseen and constructed by the Church.
What was usually a cold and desolate place was now unusually crowded with many upper-class individuals dressed in formal attire.
The afternoon sunlight poured onto the marble-tiled floor, while orderly rows of Gravestones stood throughout the vast garden.
The surrounding blue stone steps and intricately carved railings shimmered faintly under the gentle glow.
Among the well-dressed crowd were many young and inexperienced Knight Cadets.
Everyone was gathering toward the center of the Martyrs’ Cemetery, where the Main Monument Area was surrounded by beautiful flower beds and stone sculptures.
Near the entrance to the Main Monument Area stood a massive open-air stone stele, inscribed with bright red lettering listing the names of those buried here.
They were mostly people who had made outstanding contributions to either the Church or the kingdom, or nobles of Authority rank or higher; only after death were they eligible to be buried in this central land.
Those with insufficient merit, even if they were initially interred here, would eventually be relocated to make space for newcomers.
In a sense, the Main Monument Area was truly prime real estate.
Among the many graves in the Main Monument Area, the most prominent was the independent Gravestone of the former Captain of the Saint Knights, Liya Clodrine, alongside a life-sized Silver-white Statue.
Both the Gravestone and the statue were crafted from the finest White Jade Stone, with the Crest of the Saint Knights carved at the base.
Here, a Memorial Ceremony was being held especially for the former Saint Knight Captain who had made the Glorious Sacrifice.
Beneath the raised platform stood a crowd of attendees, clearly divided by social rank:
In the front row were the fully armored current members of the Saint Knights.
Behind them stood the young Knight Cadets just entering their training.
On either side of the formation were the well-dressed nobles and Authorities of the kingdom.
Because this was an annually repeated ritual, most of the nobles conversed quietly and disinterestedly about unrelated matters, their expressions distant and impatient.
The Saint Knights present, however, stood in formation, their armor gleaming brightly, faces solemn and dignified as if standing guard, silent and still.
The most emotionally unsettled were the Knight Cadets attending the Memorial Ceremony for the first time.
These young girls mostly appeared shy and nervous, their eyes flickering with unease amid the solemn atmosphere.
“Clack, clack, clack…”
A clear, crisp sound of light footsteps echoed from the direction of the raised platform near the Gravestones.
The once noisy crowd instantly quieted, all eyes converging on the center stage.
On the platform, a Church Saintess in charge of hosting the ceremony ascended the steps and then slowly stood in the central position.
“Wow…”
“Is that… the newly appointed Legendary Saintess from the Church Headquarters…?”
“Mom, I think I just saw an Angel descended to earth—”
Seeing the graceful figure on the stage, murmurs of awe and admiration erupted among the crowd below.
Many nobles and upper-class individuals could not help but quietly murmur their praise.
Some, less composed, were almost drooling in fascination.
She wore the traditional black nun’s habit, simple yet well-fitted, perfectly highlighting her elegant and slender figure and graceful waist.
The hem of her garment swayed gently with each step.
Though most of her body was cloaked in the modest habit, her delicate toes and the smooth skin of her exposed calves unabashedly revealed snow-white, alluring skin.
The shadow beneath her hood framed her cold, striking features, her eyes clear and distant.
Her delicate face showed no excess emotion, emanating an aura of aloof nobility that warned strangers to keep their distance.
In contrast, her high collar was notably swollen outward, and the lacing on her front was tightly stretched under this burden, almost making one wonder if the habit was ill-fitting.
The taut curve playfully shifted as the Saintess lifted her arm, radiating an indescribable, strange charm.
That protruding chest, swollen and tense, acted like a magnet, firmly capturing the gazes of those below—especially the young girls whose bodies had not yet matured, their eyes filled with envy.
Unlike the indifferent nobles below, the Saintess’s expression was solemn and dignified, her entire being surrounded by an icy, holy radiance that made anyone harboring impure thoughts unable to meet her gaze.
The solemn toll of a bell echoed above the cemetery as the Saintess scanned the crowd below, opening the gilded Sacred Tome in her hands.
Her cherry lips parted, a clear and pleasant voice flowing forth, steady and cold, words imbued with an undeniable authority and weight, slowly reciting the eulogy:
“Welcome, everyone, who has gathered here today to mourn our former Captain of the Saint Knights: Liya Clodrine.
“Her name, her sacrifice, and her contributions are precious and must never be forgotten.”
Here, the Saintess paused briefly before lifting her eyes to sweep over the crowd with icy blue pupils.
“Resting in this sacred ground is a true Saint Knight—one who single-handedly faced the most wicked and evil monsters, protecting the people of the kingdom, fighting bravely until her final breath.
“This great former Captain embodied the meaning of the Virtue of Guardianship with her blood and life. She was feared not because of strength, but respected for her fearlessness, and thus worthy of remembrance.”
Among the crowd, some nobles maintained their habitual, perfunctory expressions and nodded lightly, showing their respect.
“A Knight’s sword is not only raised against enemies but also toward responsibility. She proved with her life that the spirit of knighthood is not an empty phrase, but an action of burning oneself out to protect others. May her heroic name become a new guiding light beneath your feet.”
At this point, some of the Saint Knights bowed their heads out of routine, their hearts stirring little.
But in the back rows, those inexperienced cadets gradually held their breath under the Saintess’s words, their gaze solemnly fixed on her as a blazing light kindled within their innocent eyes.
The Saintess noticed all this but showed neither sadness nor joy.
She lowered her gaze again, delicately turning the page of the Sacred Tome, hesitating briefly before continuing calmly:
“I had little interaction with the former Captain originally, but for various reasons, we did have some… contact.”
As she spoke, the Saintess’s eyes flickered momentarily, and she subconsciously squeezed her legs together, a faint, suspicious blush rising on her cheeks.
But she quickly regained her composure and continued:
“I knew she always chose to place herself in the most dangerous positions, never staying safely in the rear. The day she sacrificed herself was deeply mourned by all our hearts.
“Today, as we are fortunate to gather here to commemorate her, it is evident her spirit is far more precious than her very life.”
Her gaze sharpened, and after a brief pause, she took a deep breath and slowly continued:
“She was frugal and thrifty, often subsisting on plain tea and simple meals. Her residence was modest, never extravagant.
“She was humble and courteous, patiently nodding even to the lowest servant.
“She was sincere in her dealings, treating all—high or low—with genuine heart.
“She was approachable, mingling with her subordinates without arrogance; she was pure and self-disciplined, chaste and restrained, her body holy and noble, her words and actions always controlled, never tainted by evil thought.”
At this point, her strong voice softened, yet imbued with magic that made it even more penetrating; her speech quickened and became clearer, reaching every ear:
“She dined with cadets at the same table, without silver plates or fine clothes. She bandaged the wounds of her juniors, sleeves stained with blood, yet never complained. What she left behind was not a pose, but an example—”
The nobles flanking the sides remained expressionless, though a few cast uneasy, wandering glances.
After sweeping them with a cold stare, the Saintess’s tone grew steadier.
“Today, as we gather, we learn from her spirit: selflessness, fearlessness, guardianship, and devotion.
“A person’s rank may rise or fall, wealth may be great or small. But without this spirit, one can never be a true Saint Knight.”
She paused again, coldly looking toward the direction of the Authorities.
In the brief silence, the cemetery seemed to be swept by a chilling wind.
“Only those who possess this spirit can be considered noble Saint Knights, pure Saint Knights, Saint Knights with Faith, those unmoved by selfish interests, and truly beneficial to the people.
“But without this spirit, even if crowned and clad in finery, standing here year after year, she would only be going through the motions—never respected, never remembered.”
Her speech concluded, yet the Saintess’s lingering voice still echoed over the cemetery and into the ears of those below, unable to subside.
As the bell signaled the end of the ceremony, the cemetery fell into silence.
The nobles’ expressions stiffened slightly, but they maintained polite smiles, beginning to leave in small groups.
The young Saint Knights all lowered their heads, complex emotions stirring as they orderly led the cadets away.
Only these tender young girls, having heard the eulogy, found their breathing quicken and their eyes shine brighter.
Some bit their lips, knuckles whitening as they clenched their fists; others walked with backs straightened, cheeks flushed, as if a blazing fire of belief was pressing inside their chests… all without exception looked deeply inspired.
The Saintess remained alone on the platform, her gaze soft as she watched the young generation of Knight Cadets depart.
It seemed this year’s Memorial Ceremony had a remarkably strong educational effect.
The footsteps of the crowd gradually faded, and the Martyrs’ Cemetery returned to stillness.
“Although… you were a hopelessly terrible fellow… at least in death, you managed to play some positive role.”
The Saintess turned around, tilting her head slightly.
Her gaze settled on the life-sized White Jade Stone statue of Florlia, and in a tone as if chatting with an old friend, she whispered softly.
Though her words were full of disdain and disgust, her expression was wistful.
She couldn’t help but tiptoe forward, reaching out with slender hands to gently stroke the statue’s cold face, a complex emotion flickering in her eyes.
Her black habit fluttered gently in the bleak evening breeze as the Saintess removed her hood, revealing a pale, sickly face framed by smooth silver-white hair.
She quietly gazed at the statue for a long moment before raising an index finger to wipe the moisture from the corner of her eye.
Her lips parted slightly, scattering a barely audible whisper into the wind:
“After all these years, everyone keeps moving forward, but I’ve stayed stuck in place for so long, unable to take a step. It seems I’m the only one trapped in that summer…”
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