The continent's west, the Lighthouse Monastery built on a peninsula stretching into the Mediterranean Sea. It is the sailors' beacon illuminating the Mediterranean coast, the continent's only sea route. The monks dwelling here, where the sea breeze blows, fight against the harsh sea with deeply tanned skin.
Gilo, a monk of the Lighthouse Monastery, was inspecting the Great White Wall when he discovered letters spreading in red. A monk has the duty to immediately transcribe the letters written on the Great White Wall and keep them as official records. He hurriedly grabbed paper and pen to write, but frowned upon seeing the red stain.
"Red? The Monastery of Blood?"
The Monastery of Blood had no information worth conveying through the Great White Wall. What could those heretics in that distant, barbaric land possibly have to declare?
"They're probably just playing their tricks, claiming another Apostle of the Lamb has appeared."
That was the only news the Monastery of Blood ever conveyed. Lacking enthusiasm, he dipped his pen into red ink.
At that moment, the Great White Wall was dyed crimson.
It was as if someone had committed murder with the Great White Wall as a backdrop. Blood splattered wildly, and letters written in fresh blood were etched onto the Great White Wall. Was a victim leaving their final words in blood? At this gruesome and cruel sight, the monk gasped and struck his knee against the desk.
"Argh!"
Though a blatant anomaly, the monk still had the duty to record it.
Belatedly realizing his duty, the monk hurriedly tried to transcribe the contents on the Great White Wall, but upon reading the words, he realized the attempt was meaningless.
For the Monastery of Blood was requesting an audience with the Saint.
Similar events occurred all across the world. Upon the small Great White Walls buried in the sands of the myriad nations, and upon the massive Great White Walls as vast as the walls of the Empire's headquarters, a rough and barbaric revelation resounded—an anomaly in its own right.
Everyone knew who was committing such atrocities on the Great White Wall, which conveyed the word of God. Yet, everyone could only watch, helpless to intervene.
For this was an event taking place at the Monastery of Blood, which ruled over the barbaric lands beyond the Engr Plain on the opposite side of the continent.
Egcheria, who had committed the act so refreshingly, placed both hands on the White Wall, now turned into a Red Wall.
"Even the Saints cannot ignore this. Ah, it's been so long since I received a revelation from the Saint!"
"Even if it's to get a definitive answer, isn't this too extreme?"
"The Holy Court are stuffy guardians of order and norms. They are dullards who only react when met with extremism. To reach the Saint, we must throw at them a dilemma they can never solve on their own!"
Indeed. No matter how high the Holy Court's morale, they could not leave the Great White Wall dyed in blood. Sure enough, a response came immediately.
[How dare a vampire defile the Rakion Great White Wall with blood! Do you profane the sacred bricks that record the teachings bestowed by the First Saint!]
White letters rose upon the blood-dyed Great White Wall. At that moment, a fierce light erupted, driving away the blood energy that had defiled the White Wall.
[The stain shall be purified by light! Fallen nun, fade into the back alleys of history!]
In the distant past, when the teachings of the Heavenly God were deemed heresy and persecuted. The First Saint wrote words on baked bricks, secretly teaching literacy and faith to the people. When soldiers came searching, the believers would assemble their bricks together to hide the teachings.
Then one day, when suspicious soldiers tore down the bricks. Right before the Saint's teachings could be revealed to the world, a miracle occurred. The teachings of the Heavenly God had transformed into a stern rebuke against the oppressors. The oppressing soldiers realized the Saint was a true prophet and repented.
The miracle born from this ancient tale was the Rakion Great White Wall. It was a miracle named after a brickmaker who had baked the bricks for them.
All Great White Walls are one and the same, regardless of their different locations. The teachings of the Heavenly God transcend the Great White Walls to be conveyed.
Conversely, it also meant that a miracle manifested at another monastery could affect the Monastery of Blood.
Words rose upon Great White Walls everywhere.
[We condemn this!]
[We shall punish!]
[Repent!]
Halos of light flared across the Great White Walls. The holy light that purified all things bore holes into the swirling blood energy. The growing rings of light tore through the curtain of blood, attempting to restore the Great White Wall to its pristine white.
"To seek teachings is to arrive, and to reach out is to draw near. To hear My voice and feel My touch is the very path to the Heavenly God. Thus, the one who blocks this path must be a devil."
Blood manipulation technique, Exorcism Blood Rite (Qumoxueshi).
A blood sacrament to exorcise demons was conducted. The vampire nun chanted the scriptures as she spewed out blood energy.
The rings of light still flashed brilliantly. However, the curtain of blood merely yielded its space for a moment before flowing back to fill the gaps. Dozens of holy lights flickered intermittently, unable to overpower the blood sacrament.
"You cannot erase my words simply by crying 'do not defile.' You cannot condemn and erase my words merely because I wrote them with blood energy. For the Bible does not state such."
"Well, that's because there were no vampires back then."
"But it doesn't say that, does it?"
To a mad zealot, anything not written in the Bible is not the truth. An extreme fundamentalist borders on an extreme progressive. For they are lenient toward things not explicitly forbidden by their doctrines.
The light of the Great White Wall blinked frantically, as if panicked. Even with at least several dozen monks exerting their power, they could not handle Egcheria alone. It would take at least abbots or bishops channeling their power simultaneously to even stand a chance against her.
Of course, there was an easier way to resolve the situation. It would mean conceding to the terrorist's demands, but it was a far more certain method. Suddenly, Egcheria lifted her head, her expression radiantly lighting up.
"Ah, our Saint, blessed by the First Saint. Thank you for bestowing your grace upon this monastery!"
And causality was distorted.
A sound reminiscent of something tightly drawn snapping could be heard. At that same moment, the blood energy that had filled the Great White Wall vanished in an instant.
It was not wiped away or driven out. The Great White Wall simply returned to its original state. A higher miracle of a fundamentally different nature than simple miracles or contests of power.
The Great White Wall had been restored by the power of the Saint.
As if it had never been defiled by blood, the Great White Wall regained its purity, and the writing of a single person softly rose upon it.
[I have stopped you, Egcheria. Because I have come to you directly.]
What? What is she talking about.
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Even at the words that seemed to subtly distort causality, Egcheria ecstatically clasped her hands together and welcomed the Saint's revelation.
"O, Lord... This humble servant of the Heavenly God welcomes the light that has visited this remote monastery."
One could write words on the Great White Wall, but voices could not be transmitted. Egcheria manipulated her blood energy to write upon the Great White Wall. However, the blood energy vanished the moment it touched the Wall, which was maintaining its original form through some power.
The Saint's authority was a power superior even to divine power. Possessing a perspective that transcended time and space, they could bring about unimaginable miracles. Utterly unrelated to Egcheria's power or authority, the Saint, who had 'erased' the blood energy, calmly wrote her words.
[No matter how I answer, I cannot reverse the twisted causality that is you. That is providence. However, as a Saint, I request this of you, who were once devout. Cease your wandering and return to the embrace of God. Though your flesh may be cursed, I shall spare your mind and allow it to reclaim the light.]
She's telling me to die. Truly, if one were a believer of the Holy Court, dying for one's faith would be of little consequence. Egcheria simply smiled lightly and swirled her blood-stained fingers.
"Ah, my Saint. You go too far with your jests. 'Do not fear death.' If one possesses a clear and pure spirit, the Heavenly God will gladly offer a seat beside Him. If my mind is clear, what reason is there that I cannot bestow good and virtue even with this lowly flesh?"
Once again, the letters vanished before even reaching the Great White Wall. Though it was clear her words were not transmitted beyond the White Wall, the Saint sent a reply as if she had understood perfectly.
[It is the fate of a Saint to be unable to avoid even predetermined outcomes. I had to ask, even knowing you would not comply. Therefore, I shall remain silent to the question you wish to ask.]
"My Saint. What I wish to convey to you is..."
[Those words were not meant for you, Egcheria. They were meant for the Human King who spurred you on.]
Huh? She shouldn't be able to see me.
The Great White Wall is merely a wall where the same words are written across all locations. It does not transmit scenes or situations. Yet, for some reason, the Saint beyond the White Wall was looking precisely at me.
[There is no need to exert effort repeating answers you already know. Nor can I provide answers you do not know. The causality to continue this conversation has ended, so I can bring this loop to a close.]
Those words are true.
No matter what we say, no matter what blood rite Egcheria conducts. That Saint can arbitrarily close and reject this conversation. That is the power of the Saint of Causality, Ticiel.
I couldn't even fathom what kind of ability it was. Even if I read her thoughts and grasped her essence, it would likely be the same. Like the Saint of Steel, Perel, it was a type of power that was difficult to comprehend, and even if comprehended, impossible to counter.
However, being a Saint did not mean being omnipotent. The very fact that this conversation took place, where the Saint of Causality could not reach with her causality, meant there was a loophole.
"Then that means I can think whatever I want, right?"
Even before Egcheria could write her words, the Great White Wall replied of its own accord.
[Yes. This is a conversation already brought to a close.]
My guesses were mostly correct, and whatever remains merely a hypothesis means she won't tell me anyway, right? A good attitude, but unfortunately, that alone isn't enough right now.
Because there is a protagonist here who won't understand unless things are explained.
"That's what she says, Shei. What do you think?"
The regressor, who had been standing with a sullen expression, replied irritably.
"What is she talking about? Explain it so I can understand."
'Ticiel's rhetoric is so convoluted that it's hard to understand. Sigh, if the Commander of the Holy Sword were here, he'd translate for me. I can't figure it out through the Great White Wall.'
At that, the Great White Wall turned completely white for a moment. The Saint's message was delivered in a handwriting that distinctly reeked of panic.
[Egcheria. What exactly are you harvesting? Causality is dist—]
It was then.
The letters collapsed powerlessly.
The letters written in mid-air trembled violently before disintegrating into consonants and vowels, crumbling down. The letters that fell below the Great White Wall then reassembled, forming a single phrase.
For the light descended from the heavens.
At that moment, without any precursor, without any warning. A girl, her eyes closed serenely, appeared in the chapel.
No, could that even be called appearing?
If presence equated to existence, she radiated an overwhelming presence. Even when I turned my head away, I was acutely aware that she was there. My consciousness was focused on her more certainly than anything else.
Yet, she did not exist here. That phantom possessed neither warm body heat, nor negligible weight, nor an elegant voice.
There was no one here. But she undoubtedly existed. If asked to draw her appearance, I could. Yet, if reflected in a mirror, her form would vanish like a mirage.
Rather than her being here, it felt as though the 'fact' that she was here was being imprinted directly into my mind. I couldn't read her thoughts, nor did she feel real, but she was undeniably present.
"It's been a dreadfully long time, Human King and Egcheria."
As if transcending time and space, a soft, clear voice imbued with unchanging truth resonated. The Saint, her eyes serenely closed, looked precisely at the regressor and greeted her with melancholy.
"And to you, my final hope and my first despair."
Unable to read her mind, I had no idea who she was or what power she held. However, the regressor knew exactly who stood before her. Facing an immense miracle, the regressor calmly greeted her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. With a face that showed she was genuinely glad to meet her.
"It's nice to meet you, Meiel."