Saint Elliott Cathedral loomed before him, and Allen felt as if his entire worldview had been brutally dragged across the ground and rubbed raw.
This avant-garde, almost absurdly futuristic design—didn’t it ever make the common folk who passed by daily question if they were living in a dream?
Allen couldn’t help but silently complain to himself, instinctively glancing at Marianne and the Old Butler beside him.
Marianne was tilting her delicate face upward, her crimson eyes reflecting the pure white radiance of the cathedral, wearing an expression that mixed reverence with an unspoken sense of entitlement, as if such an architecture beyond its time was naturally sacred and righteous.
Old Butler Jean-Leclerc bowed slightly, devoutly tracing the symbol of the Wheat Ear over his chest, his face solemn, showing no surprise at the “wonder” before him, only heartfelt veneration.
Allen inwardly gasped.
The Church’s brainwashing power was truly terrifying!
They had forcibly woven this style—so far removed from tradition—into the collective understanding of the faithful, making it an unquestioned symbol of the “holy.”
Allen’s gaze returned to the massive emblem atop the cathedral.
The Wheat Ear symbolized abundance and life; the Star Radiance stood for hope and guidance—Allen could somewhat grasp these metaphors.
But the Gear… so jarring, cold, brimming with the mechanical feel of the industrial age, utterly at odds with religious symbolism.
The Church remained tight-lipped about it, offering no official explanation.
Gear… the emblem of the Industrial Revolution… Could it be a metaphor for the Lost Technology the Church possessed?
Allen’s thoughts spun rapidly.
“Excuse me, are you Mr. Allen de Laval?”
A clear, slightly deliberately aloof female voice interrupted Allen’s thoughts.
He looked toward the sound and saw a young nun standing at the cathedral entrance.
She appeared to be about fourteen years old, slender like a newly sprouted white birch.
Her blue hair was carefully braided into a plait, restrained under a black nun’s veil, yet a few rebellious strands escaped, gently falling by her pale neck and forehead, lending her a rare liveliness unbefitting the solemnity of the place.
Most striking were her eyes—clear, deep blue, like the purest mountain lake, untainted by dust. Yet now, those beautiful eyes reflected curiosity mixed with a thinly veiled disdain.
Allen immediately understood the source of that disdain—his infamous past.
Well, the label of “villainous young master” was hard to shake.
Not the time to act like the villain.
Suppressing his frustration, Allen swiftly shifted his face into an impeccable noble’s smile, bowing gracefully with a humble and courteous demeanor:
“Yes, beautiful Miss Nun. I am Allen de Laval, here at the invitation of Archbishop Lucien. I apologize for the intrusion and am deeply honored. May the Holy Light shine upon this place.”
The young nun visibly froze.
She blinked her bright blue eyes, mouth slightly agape, as if witnessing something unbelievable.
This youth before her, upright in posture, clear-eyed, warm-smiled, and well-mannered—completely different from the rumors describing a lecherous and frivolous playboy.
The stark contrast dulled much of her disdain, replaced by a deeper confusion.
“Please follow me. The teacher is waiting for you.”
She reined in her emotions, maintaining her aloof tone, though her initial hostility had softened. She turned, signaling Allen to follow.
Old Butler Jean bowed slightly: “Young Master, I will wait here.”
Allen nodded, gently instructing: “Butler, you should rest a bit as well.”
He glanced at Marianne, silently indicating, “If you don’t want to go inside, you can wait outside.”
Yet Marianne’s attention was entirely fixed on the blue-haired young nun, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly, full of alertness.
“Young Master, we are of one heart and body,” Marianne stepped half a pace closer to Allen, whispering, “If you are treated as a heretic, even if it costs me my life, I will get you out.”
Allen helplessly rubbed his forehead: “No, no. You fool, don’t say such murderous things right at the Church’s door!”
Marianne always thought that blue-haired nun… well, seemed like the kind who would be completely fooled by their young master’s innocent face and constant babbling.
They already had one natural airhead, Anna, at home. If another nun got charmed, Allen might actually earn the title of “Nun Slayer”!
No way! They couldn’t afford more enemies!
Determined, Marianne stayed close to Allen’s side as they stepped together into this “future shrine.”
As they entered the cathedral’s interior, Allen was struck to the core by an unprecedented sense of grandeur and solitude.
Unlike Gothic cathedrals, which use soaring ribbed vaults and stained glass windows to create a sacred pressure pointing toward the heavens,
Saint Elliott Cathedral’s interior was unusually spacious, simple, and cold.
The massive dome was made from some kind of translucent material that emitted a soft white glow; the light spread evenly, illuminating the entire space—bright but not harsh.
Standing inside felt like being under a giant pure-white tent, or drifting in the endless vacuum of space, evoking a profound sense of smallness and loneliness.
The walls were smooth as mirrors, reflecting a faint glow, with no intricate religious murals or sculptures, only minimalistic geometric lines outlining the structure.
The dome wasn’t supported by thick columns but by impossibly slender white “pillars” that also emitted a faint glow; they seemed more decorative than structural, challenging physical intuition.
Most breathtaking was the main altar area at the far end.
There were no traditional holy images or crosses; instead, a vast dynamic star map composed of countless tiny points of light hovered there.
Against a deep black backdrop, the glittering stars slowly rotated, flickered in and out, exuding a mysterious and vast aura.
Below the star map floated a similarly pure-white, highly simplified emblem combining the Wheat Ear and Star Radiance.
This meticulously crafted artwork struck Allen deeply.
It intentionally magnified the immensity of the universe and humanity’s minuteness, creating a profound loneliness.
The faithful instinctively sought solace, and the Church offered them “reliance” in the form of that cold star map and the emblem representing the “Creator.”
This was an exceptionally clever psychological suggestion and spiritual guidance!
“What a magnificent wonder,” Allen murmured sincerely.
This cathedral transcended architecture—it was more like a carefully designed work of art.
The young nun ahead heard Allen’s praise and paused. Her usually tense face suddenly brightened into a slightly proud, radiant smile, her voice lightening:
“Right? When I first came here, I was so shocked I couldn’t speak! It felt like my soul was cleansed!”
“Such a magnificent building… how was it constructed?”
Allen took the opportunity to ask, his gaze scanning the smooth, seemingly unnatural walls and the strange glowing material.
The young nun proudly puffed out her chest, as if sharing a great secret: “I heard from the seniors that this cathedral’s history is even older than the palace! The most amazing part is, it’s said the Church only took three months to build it! That’s definitely a miracle! Only the power of the Lord could do that!”
Three months?!
Allen was stunned. Images flashed through his mind of historical cathedrals that took centuries and countless artisans’ effort to complete.
The famous Gothic Cologne Cathedral in human history, for instance, spanned several eras and took 632 years to finish!
Even with all the Church’s black tech, completing such a grand miracle in three months was a bit too exaggerated.
3D printing? Modular prefabrication? Or some even more opaque Lost Technology? The Church’s architectural prowess—or rather, their technological level—probably far exceeded Allen’s imagination!
His brow involuntarily furrowed, his expression filled with deep doubt and curiosity.
The young nun immediately noticed the shift in Allen’s mood; his admiration for the miracle seemed replaced by skepticism.
Her smile vanished instantly, and a trace of displeasure rekindled in her eyes: “Don’t you believe this is the Lord’s great power?”
Allen snapped back to reality, realizing he had revealed too much doubt.
He quickly adjusted his expression into a gentle but resolute smile, his gaze fixed clearly and sincerely on the vast star map ahead:
“Rather than believe this is the Lord’s power creating out of thin air, I prefer to believe this is a real miracle made by the builders using the wisdom the Lord granted us—the wisdom to reshape the world and turn imagination into reality. Isn’t that the most precious gift the Lord has given us?”
The young nun was stunned.
God gave humans wisdom to create?
That made a lot of sense! But the Holy Scripture didn’t seem to state it so plainly?
How could this notorious Allen de Laval say something so… so like a devout believer’s realization?
She looked at Allen’s serious profile, illuminated by the star map’s faint glow, at a loss for words, full of confusion.
Marianne quietly followed half a step behind Allen, striving to maintain the maid’s dignity in this sacred place, suppressing her yandere nature as best as she could.
Yet she, too, was shaken by the cathedral’s grandeur, her small hand unconsciously clutching the hem of her dress.
“Well said, Lord Allen.”
A deep, steady voice rang out nearby, rich with wisdom earned from years.
Everyone turned to see a tall, upright figure in a deep purple bishop’s robe embroidered with Wheat Ear and Star Radiance in golden threads. Though his hair was gray, his spirit was vigorous, and his face kind.
Though this was their first meeting, Allen immediately recognized him as Lucien, the Archbishop—Albert Morel.
Archbishop Lucien smiled gently, his approving gaze resting on Allen:
“People always tend to label phenomena beyond their understanding or logic as ‘miracles,’ unaware that ‘rationality’ itself is the greatest law the Lord set when creating this universe.”
“The movement of the sun, moon, and stars; the cycle of the seasons; the birth and growth of life… all this orderly ‘rationality’ is the grandest miracle of the Lord’s existence. Unfortunately, most people are blind to it.”
“The wisdom the Lord gave humanity is the key to understanding the ‘rationality’ of this world. Lord Allen, your words that this is the most precious gift from the Lord resonate deeply with me.”
“You flatter me,” Allen responded humbly.
This old fox started off with a flurry of praise—planning to elevate then suppress, was he?
Lucien’s gaze then shifted toward the young nun, his tone growing stern: “Amelia, when you host our guest Lord Allen, did you fail in your manners? The wisdom granted by the Lord is meant for discerning right from wrong, not to breed misunderstanding or hostility. You have read many scriptures—do you understand this holy teaching?”
So her name was Amelia… Allen silently noted it.
He had a feeling he would be dealing with this nun often in the future.
Amelia, awakened by her teacher’s words, flushed bright red, shamefully lowering her head: “Teacher… I… I was wrong. I should not have…”
“Respected Archbishop,” Allen timely interrupted, humbly easing Amelia’s self-reproach, “Sister Amelia treated me with courtesy and patience once she knew who I was. I am already deeply honored. A slight misunderstanding matters little. Her pure heart and devotion to the Lord are truly impressive.”
Archbishop Lucien looked deeply into Allen’s eyes, as if trying to see through him inside and out.
His kind smile never wavered as he slowly spoke: “Lord Allen, though young, you are broad-minded and bear the demeanor of your father. Viscount Bernard is a kind and upright man who often donates to the Church to help the poor. He told me how you were granted divine grace and awakened after a near-drowning experience, gaining new life. Seeing you today, your aura is indeed renewed.”
“You overpraise me—I dare not accept such honors. I have only done what I ought to do.”
Allen appeared calm and composed, but alarms rang frantically in his mind.
The word “new life,” coming from this kingdom’s second-most powerful figure and the secret controller of the Heretic Inquisition Squad, carried an indescribable pressure and a probing undertone.
Marianne wasn’t yet qualified to join this high-level game; Allen had to steady himself alone before this imposing archbishop.
“Marianne,” Allen took a deep breath, striving to keep calm on the surface, turning to her with a gesture to reassure, “I need to speak privately with the Archbishop. You can explore the cathedral.”
Worry filled Marianne’s eyes; her lips moved but dared not say a word here. She only nodded firmly, sending a silent “Be careful” with her gaze.
Archbishop Lucien smiled at Amelia: “Amelia, please take this lovely maid to the Saints Gallery in the side hall. There, you can see some murals depicting the deeds of Saint Elliott.”
“Y-Yes, Teacher!”
Amelia gratefully accepted.
Marianne gave Allen a final worried glance before following Amelia out of the vast and magnificent main hall.
Now, Allen was left alone to face this towering Church titan who exuded endless pressure.
In the cold, empty hall, the star map silently revolved, the massive glowing emblem floating above it, and Archbishop Lucien’s profound gaze seemed almost tangible as it settled on Allen.
“Lord Allen,” the Archbishop’s voice sounded especially clear in the silence, “let us… have a proper conversation.”