The Vastness of Magical Destiny
Chapter 264 - 5: Temptation_2

Chapter 264: Chapter 5: Temptation_2

The 25-meter obelisk had, in fact, become a landmark, with one magnificent fountain at each of its four sides. The lines connecting the fountains and the obelisk formed the long and short axes of the Virgin Square, centered on the obelisk. The elliptical Virgin Square unfolded accordingly, its arc-shaped colonnade extending outwards to become the greatest open-air square on the Continent. The square’s long axis stretched for 198 meters, while the arc-shaped colonnade was 17 meters wide. Four rows of proud Doric columns—284 in total—stood tall, with 88 engaged columns majestically designed, and the parapet atop the cornice decorated with 96 statues of saints and martyrs. The columns, robust and densely packed, appeared as a forest layer upon layer, the interplay of light and shadow dramatic. Here, Baroque artistic imagination harmoniously blended with a concise and rigorous layout, creating a wondrous hybrid entity. Between the colonnade and the cathedral, corridors connected on the left and right, forming a trapezoidal square. The square had a noticeable slope, so the Pope, standing on the cathedral’s front steps, could bless the congregation, who could see everything clearly from the square.

Such a grand yet exquisitely intricate architectural marvel is no wonder the culmination of all the talents and passion of the most famous master architect of the time, Bernini. It is said that after completing this building, he uttered only one sentence, "Divine inspiration, gone in an instant, forever lost." Thereafter, he never again presented a work of similar calibre to the world.

Entering the hallway next to the church and turning left, one was met with a spacious crystal vestibule.

The wheelchair creaked steadily along. If anyone unaware of the circumstances were to witness this scene, they would undoubtedly stand agape in shock. Without any assistance, the wheelchair slowly glided forward like a legendary haunted carriage, its wheels moving at a uniform pace with a monotonous creak. Sitting in the wheelchair was a body so dwarf-like that it verged on the bizarre, it was hard to believe one’s eyes.

What a strange face it was, an invisible line extending downward from the bridge of the nose split the face into two utterly different halves—each half unforgettable to anyone who saw it. The left side of the face was shriveled up as though an oilskin was plastered onto a skeleton. Even the seams at every joint of the facial bones could be clearly seen through the skin. Yet that eye with more black than white was so profound, its chilling gaze capable of cutting through any barrier that stood before it. The right side of the face, by contrast, resembled the delicate and fair complexion of an infant’s cheek, pale and blushing, the skin gradually growing vibrant and lively, even the pores were clear and smooth, without a single flaw. What spoiled this half of the face was the eye—cloudy and lifeless, full of blood vessels and spots, it was unacceptable that such an eye belonged on this side of the face.

If someone told you now that this face with such stark contrast belonged to Julius II, the current Pope of the Church of Light, who held sway over the Continent, you certainly wouldn’t believe it. But the truth was exactly that.

Coughni Chapel, also designed by Bernini, is a perfect specimen of architecture, sculpture, and painting combined into one—a testament to its excellence. The divine architecture of Saint Helena was entirely sculptural, with thin relief on both side walls creating accurately perspective balconies, the Coughni family seemingly leaning on the balustrades, gazing into the enchanting image of Helena, as if about to come forward. The small chapel, glittering with gold and brimming with colors, was incredibly magnificent.

The wheelchair finally came to a stop at a space in front of the chapel, patches of sunlight filtering through the colorful glass from the top of the chapel. This method of using multiple layers of glass to refract sunlight turned it into a kaleidoscope of colors, creating a dreamlike effect sufficient to invoke in the faithful a longing for heaven. Draped in the simplest of white cloths, the frail body curled up in the wheelchair was illuminated by the beautiful patches of light. Yet it still seemed as if life was slowly ebbing away from this body that had once known boundless glory.

He took a slight breath, a hint of wistful sadness passing through his two disparate eyes, especially evident in the one that was almost darkly profound. His gaze turned towards the open dome above, the movable canopy that covered it had been removed; he sat still, his fingers trembling faintly. His left hand, as skinny as bones, gently lifted to form a common pinching hand gesture. A chant, as if coming from the depths of space, began to echo slowly within the chapel.

For a moment, it seemed as if the whole chapel swayed slightly. An invisible column of stilling force enveloped the frail body. Slowly lifting his head, he turned the face of barren and lush unity towards the azure sky. It was as if he could see through the entire vault of heaven, piercing the horizon, or as if he was silently waiting for something.

The disruption in the church’s force field did not escape the notice of two individuals who had been standing solemnly outside the chapel, in the crystal corridor. Almost simultaneously, their gazes turned towards the interior of the chapel, then abruptly retracted. The two glances touched gently in mid-air and then separated, silently reverting to their original states.

The old man dressed in snow-white seemed as if he was about to fall asleep. Had it not been for the brief collision of gazes just now, no one would have detected the power hidden within him. His broad, clean face was tinged with a hint of rosiness, and his silver hair was like snow. Coupled with the snow-white monk’s robe, he was the very image of a monk who was detached from worldly affairs. In contrast, the elder standing opposite the white-clothed monk appeared much more plain. His grey mage’s robe had been washed until it had faded and the frayed cuffs were clearly visible. He had a face so ordinary that, no matter how hard you tried to remember him, as soon as you turned your head, you would find you could not recall any feature of that face.

The dark and profound gaze lingered at the entrance of the chapel. The old man dressed as a grey-robed mage seemed to be pondering something. He had already sensed that the tremendous magic power from within the chapel was nearly enough to upheave the entire building. He even had a feeling that the immense force field distortion seemed about to burst the chapel open. Were it not for the greatest Bernini having personally designed and contributed to the construction of the chapel, were it not for the numerous Sacred Artifacts stored within, he believed that the chapel could not have withstood such an intense impact of power.

"Great Prophecy Spell!" A soft exclamation did not escape the ears of the grey-robed elder. It seemed that the other did not intend to conceal anything, as the earth-shattering power of the Great Prophecy Spell could be felt by everyone present. However, no one could understand why His Holiness the Pope would disregard his own health to cast such a magic spell.

"Grand Archon Vazinsky, can you feel His Holiness the Pope’s power? It seems His Holiness’s health has recovered quite well, but isn’t casting the Great Prophecy Spell a bit reckless? His body doesn’t seem quite suitable for using such a spell." Finally, the old man in white raised his head to look towards the still bowing grey-robed elder. The outward calm of the other could not cover his inner surprise. Likewise astonished by the Pope’s unexpected actions, the other undoubtedly felt the same, as changes of the spirit do not require physical manifestations for proof.

"Sir Frenster, the Pope usually acts on his own accord, making it difficult for us to predict. However, I concur with your view, Sir Frenster, that regardless, it seems somewhat improper to exercise such a spell while His Holiness’s body has not fully recovered." With a faint smile that caused no change on his face, you could not even detect where the smile originated, but it felt as if he did smile.

With a slight nod, the dark gaze swiftly retracted. The one referred to as Sir Frenster was none other than Archbishop Frenster of Pericles Cathedral, and the only person in the Church of Light who could converse with such a subdued attitude, other than Archbishop Vazinsky, was perhaps only that madman Noyola from the Court. However, the self-possessed demeanor of the person before him clearly indicated he was not one of the fanatics from the Court.

"It seems the Continent is set for turbulence once more. I have followed the Pope for decades and have never seen His Holiness cast the Great Prophecy Spell over a matter, especially in his current state of health. His Holiness’s Spiritual Sense must have detected something, but what could have prompted him to take such an action?" As if speaking to himself, yet seeking the other’s opinion, the old man in white never took his eyes off the grey-robed mage, trying to discern something from his expression. Yet, as expected, the other seemed calmer than ever.

It seemed the other’s ability to clear his mind had surpassed his own. A sense of admiration arose in Frenster’s heart; perhaps he had focused too much on enhancing his magic ability and neglected the cultivation of spiritual power. Maybe it was time for him to adjust his mindset?