Chapter 12: Soul of the Painted World, the Embers Remain!

The Cathedral of Torrent City, one of the eleven earthly pillars of faith for the Solar Pantheon, stood as a lavish testament to the gods’ majesty and mercy. Words, murals, stained-glass windows, inscribed motifs, epic poems—all commemorated the distant age when the ancient dragons who ruled the earth were overthrown by the gods and mortal heroes. The misty gray veil was lifted by the First Flame, and the gods bestowed its power upon the world. All this history was recorded in the cathedral through the medium of sacred art. A single glimpse left a lasting impression. The cathedral’s deliberately dim atmosphere added mystery to its solemn aura. Visitors instinctively hushed their voices and softened their footsteps, afraid to disrupt the reverent stillness. Even though Maria had walked these halls many times in the past two weeks, she still found herself in awe. During the [Nightmare Plague] patch, this cathedral had been utterly destroyed. Back then, she could only admire its grandeur through player memory crystals. To witness it firsthand now… it was humbling. “Sister Maria, has the party not yet returned today?” Phoenix, the [Flame Warrior], scanned the cathedral’s interior with sharp hawk-like eyes. He noticed the absence of several familiar faces and immediately sensed something off. “Ah, well…” “My apologies. If it's something troubling, I’ve overstepped.” Phoenix’s polite restraint made Tyre roll his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out. As if heretically aware of his inner sarcasm, Maria studied Phoenix with serious intensity. “The party has already returned. When you meet the Archbishop, you’ll understand what happened.” Her tone was calm, but it carried an invisible weight. “I understand.” Tyre, who had still been struggling like a caught animal, stopped abruptly. He wasn’t stupid. That little exchange between high-ranking NPCs hinted at the beginning of . In a game, always meant —a chance to break out of scripted routines and trigger a quest. Yeah, was a pain in the ass, but that’s what made it fun, right? His eyes gleamed with cunning, oblivious to the sideways glance Maria gave him. A glance filled with meaning. A beta tester. She had no doubt now: the unfortunate fellow Phoenix dragged in was a closed beta player. Reduced to thievery—what abysmal luck. But if she played this right, she couldn’t let him get executed. This tool had . When you're unlucky enough, the misfortune turns into absurd luck. After all, he’d made it into the [Luminous Cathedral] without a shred of reputation or goodwill. That, in itself, was remarkable. Especially after recent events confirmed the Solar Pantheon’s church was facing hard times. A few minutes later, after winding through solemn, darkened corridors, the trio stepped into a space engulfed in . This wasn’t magic or divine light. It was ingenious architecture. Complex layers of skylights funneled sunlight into a singular beam that illuminated a massive mural. The sight left Tyre gasping. “Holy crap…” The painting depicted impossibly twisted, overlapping architecture surrounding a central figure. At the top, a dark void had replaced the sun. From it, a single ray of light pierced the gloom and touched a knight clad in iron armor, standing before a sword in a bonfire, reaching toward the flame. The image carried a profound, almost overwhelming weight—an unspoken declaration that . 『Congratulations, Player Tyre. Exploration Progress +100. Keep going!』 Wait, what?! “This painting is…?!” Eager not to miss anything that triggered a system response, Tyre quickly turned to the kind-looking nun beside him. He had no interest in asking the stuck-up Phoenix. But the pretty nun seemed approachable. “Soul of the Painted World. The Embers Remain.” The voice that answered wasn’t Maria’s. An old man had appeared at the edge of the hallway near the mural. Clad in white robes and leaning heavily on a staff, his beard trailed near the ground. He looked ancient and feeble. But Maria knew better. This frail elder was a [Gold]-rank powerhouse. There was no cheesing or tricking this guy. In combat, that walking stick would buff him with an arsenal of divine spells—then he’d charge into battle and bludgeon [Silver]-ranks to death with ease. Phoenix and Maria both bowed respectfully. “Good day, Archbishop Mark.” “Good day, Your Grace.” The elder waved off the formalities. Stroking his beard, he gazed at the mural—one that embodied the will of flame. “That figure is the first Chosen Undead to link the fire. It’s said he once reached the realm of the gods and caught the eye of a goddess. She begged him to remain in her kingdom, but he refused. He offered himself to the flame, that it might never die. His will lives on even now.” , Maria mentally added. “That’s so freaking badass.” Tyre, as always, ruined the solemn atmosphere. His tone and vocabulary clashed completely with the reverent vibe. Phoenix looked like he wanted to slap duct tape over his mouth. Maria, on the other hand, just smiled wider and pretended to admire the mural. Archbishop Mark, unfazed by the interruption, looked down at the human dumpling that was Tyre with surprising warmth.