The Vastness of Magical Destiny
Chapter 471: Volume 10: Thunderous Movements and Winds Rising, - 6: Great Prophecy Spell

Chapter 471: Volume 10: Thunderous Movements and Winds Rising, Chapter 6: Great Prophecy Spell

As the bell tower on the side of St. Mark’s Church resoundingly chimed, the clear, melodious sound of the bells unfolded into lingering echoes across the front of Virgin Square, the azure sky pristine, and the brilliant sunshine cast a carpet of gold upon the ground before the square. Startled pigeons around the fountain took flight, their wings beating high, sweeping across the sky above the square, casting scattered shadows below.

Nearly all the believers in the square could not help but look up silently at the church’s dome, reciting their confessions, praying that the God of Light would forgive all the original sins of the world, and bless mankind.

The majestic and exquisitely beautiful St. Mark’s Church, as one of the most important religious sites on the Continent, is unquestionably the Church of Light’s premier building. The three-sectioned basilica extends the main structure of the church several tens of meters forward, significantly toning down the church’s imposing nature, and making the church seem more approachable. However, to get a full view of the church, especially the magnificent church dome, one must come to the center of Angel Square in front of the church.

The 25-meter-tall obelisk has in fact become a landmark. Each of the four sides of the obelisk features an ornate fountain, and the lines connecting the fountains to the obelisk form the long and short axes of Virgin Square, with the center being the obelisk. The oval Virgin Square unfolds from here, extending outward along the curved colonnade, creating the greatest open-air square on the Continent.

The long axis of the square stretches for 198 meters, while the curved colonnade is 17 meters wide. Four rows of proud Doric columns stand tall, numbering 284, with 88 pilaster columns of an imposing design. The parapets above the cornices are decorated with 96 statues of saints and martyrs.

The columns are thick and closely spaced, the layers dense as forests, the interplay of light and shadow dramatic. The Baroque artistic conception blends here with a precisely simple layout, becoming a marvelous hybrid. Between the colonnade and the cathedral, corridors connect left and right, forming a trapezoidal square.

The square has a distinct slope, allowing believers on the square to see clearly as the Pope stands on the church steps in front to bless the congregation.

It’s no wonder that such a grand yet delicate architectural marvel exhausted all the talent and passion of Bernini, the most famous master builder of the time. It’s said that after completing this building, he uttered only one phrase, "Divine inspiration, momentary and forever lost." Afterward, he never again produced a work of such caliber for the world.

Entering through the corridor next to the church and turning left, a spacious crystal hall unfolds before you.

The wheelchair creaked and groaned. If an uninformed person saw this scene, they would undoubtedly stare in astonishment, as the wheelchair slowly slid forward without any external push, like a legendary ghostly carriage. The wheels turned evenly forward with a monotonous creak, and the nearly dwarfish body sitting in the wheelchair was bizarre enough to make onlookers doubt their own eyes.

What a peculiar face it was. An invisible line extending down from the nose split the face into two halves, distinctly different and unforgettable for anyone who saw them. The left half of the face was as dry as a piece of oilskin stretched over a skull; one could clearly see every joint of the bone through the skin. That eye, however—an orb with more black than white—was so profound that its chilling gaze could cut through any obstacles in its path.

The right half of the face, on the other hand, was like that of an infant: delicate, fair, and blushing with vitality, with even the pores and facial hair appearing so even and smooth, lacking any imperfection. What marred this half of the face was still the eye—muddy and lifeless, filled with blood vessels and spots, it was hard for one to accept that such an eye could belong on this side of the face.

If someone were to tell you now that this face of great contrasts belonged to Julius II, the current Pope of the Church of Light that dominates the Continent, you would surely not believe it. But the truth is exactly so.

The Coughni Chapel, also designed by Bernini’s own hand, is a perfect specimen that combines architecture, sculpture, and painting. The divine architecture built for Saint Helena is completely carved. The walls on both sides with thin relief accurately illustrate the balustrades and the Coughni family leaning as if they are about to step over to the alluring Helena. The small chapel shimmers with gold and a kaleidoscope of colors, dazzlingly magnificent.

The wheelchair finally came to a stop in the open space directly in front of the chapel. Specks and spots of sunlight poured through the colored glass, brought into the space atop the chapel. This use of multiple glass refractions enables the sunshine to appear kaleidoscopic, bursting with a dreamy array of colors, enough to inspire longing for heaven in the hearts of the faithful.

Wrapped in a white cloth that could not be more simple, despite the splendid patches of light shining on the huddled body in the wheelchair, one could still sense as if the life force was slowly ebbing away from the body, once so glorious and without end.

He took a slight breath, and a hint of faint worry flashed across his two eyes, one clear and the other so deep that it was almost dark.

His gaze moved towards the hollowed dome; the movable canopy above had been removed. He suddenly sat still, his fingers trembling slightly. He lifted his bony left hand with dexterity and made a very common pinching gesture. A chanting sound that seemed to come from the depths of space began to rise slowly within the church.

In an instant, it felt as though the whole church trembled slightly. An invisible column of static space power enveloped his frail body. He slowly lifted his head, facing his withered yet flourishing visage towards the azure sky. It was as if he could see through the heavens to the edge of the sky, or perhaps he was quietly waiting for something.

The change in the church’s energy field did not escape the notice of the two people who had been standing solemnly in the Crystal Hall outside the church. Almost at the same time, their gazes turned towards the inside of the church and then quickly withdrew. Their eyes met in the air with just a light touch before separating again, returning to silence.

The old man in plain white seemed as if he was almost asleep. If it hadn’t been for that brief collision of gazes, no one would have noticed the power hidden within him. His broad and clean face was slightly flushed; his silver hair was like snow, complemented by a snow-white monk’s robe. He truly looked like a monk who was detached from worldly matters.

In contrast, the old man standing opposite the white-clothed monk appeared much more plain. His gray mage robe was washed to the point of turning whitish, with even the frayed cuffs clearly visible. His face was so ordinary that even if you tried hard to remember it, as soon as you turned away, you would find you could not recall any features of that face.

The deep and obscure gaze lingered at the entrance of the church. The old man in the gray-robed mage attire seemed to be pondering something. He had noticed the tremendous magic power inside the church that was almost lifting it off its foundations, even feeling as though a massive distortion of the power field might burst the church open. If this were not the church personally designed and built by the great Bernini, and if it hadn’t stored so many sacred artifacts, he believed the church could not endure such a powerful impact.

"Great Prophecy Spell!" A soft exclamation did not escape the ears of the gray-clothed elder, and the other party did not seem to want to hide anything. The earth-shaking power of the Great Prophecy Spell could be felt by all those present. However, why His Holiness the Pope would perform such a spell without regard for his own health was something no one understood.

"Sir Vazinsky, can you feel His Holiness the Pope’s power? It seems that His Holiness’ body has recovered well. But isn’t it a bit reckless to perform the Great Prophecy Spell? His body doesn’t seem quite suited for such a spell."

The old man in white finally lifted his head and looked towards the still bowed gray-robed elder. The outward composure of the other could not hide the surprise in his heart, and he was equally astonished by the Pope’s unexpected actions. He was sure the other felt the same, knowing that the change in one’s heart does not need outward proof.

"Sir Frenster, the Pope has always acted independently, and it’s tough for us to predict his actions. However, I agree with your view, Sir Frenster. No matter what, it seems somewhat improper to perform such a spell when His Holiness has not fully recovered," replied Vazinsky.

A faint smile crossed his face, one so subtle that you could hardly detect where it came from, yet it felt like he smiled.

He nodded slightly, and his dark gaze quickly retracted. The elder known as Sir Frenster was none other than Archbishop Frenster of Pericles Cathedral. The only ones in the Church of Light who could talk to him in such an even-tempered manner were either Archbishop Vazinsky or that madman Noyola from the Court, and the man’s composed demeanor made it clear that he was not from the Court’s bunch of fanatics.

"It seems the Continent is about to stir again. I have followed the Pope for decades and have never seen His Holiness use the Great Prophecy Spell over something, especially under his current physical condition. His Holiness’ Spiritual Sense must have perceived something, but what could make His Holiness take such actions?"

It was as if he was talking to himself, yet also seeking the other’s opinion. The white-robed elder’s eyes never left the face of the gray-robed mage, trying to discern something from his expression, but as expected, the other appeared calmer than ever.

Sir Frenster felt admiration in his heart, realizing that the other might have surpassed him in his ability to clear the mind. Perhaps he had been too obsessed with increasing his magic ability and neglected the cultivation of spiritual power. Should he adjust his mentality?