Chapter 133 — The Thorn Oath
Within the brightly lit hall, as the golden-haired archbishop unfurled the wings upon her back, the world itself seemed to grow brighter.
Bright—almost painfully so.
Charles kept his head lowered. At the archbishop's feet, around the tips of her tall boots, pale milky ripples spread across the floor as if light itself were liquid. Faint, feather-shaped glimmers drifted down, dissolving into the stone the moment they touched it.
A hand rested firmly atop his head, preventing him from lifting his gaze or turning away. From the point of contact—between her palm and his crown—a peculiar sensation surged through his body, and a vast, solemn chant seemed to echo directly within his mind.
[You are enveloped by the Thorn Domain.
Within this domain, you are unable to invoke any spell not sanctioned by the Church.]
…
The notification from the Eye of Reality drifted past his vision. Charles barely had time to process it before the archbishop began to speak.
Her voice rang out—resonant, fervent, and filled with barely restrained zeal.
"O Sovereign of Heaven, Adversary of Hell, Protector of all known and unknown worlds—
Lord of Thorns, I, your faithful servant Ferriji Misel, offer you praise!"
"You are the blade of Nyah's will.
You are the dawn that rends the darkness.
You are omniscient, omnipotent—
The one true and eternal god!"
"All mortal beings must bow before you—
Nobles and kings, commoners and infants, women and elders alike!
All life shall acknowledge you as its Lord!"
"Death, disease, war, demons—
Calamity has never truly faded.
The endless night will come again."
"But before the darkness yet to rise—
We shall know no fear."
"For we proclaim—"
"All things live together—Thorns do not perish!"
"All things coexist—Thorns endure forever!"
…
The hymn of praise echoed through the vast hall, reverberating again and again. When the final words faded, the archbishop lowered her gaze to Charles, her tone solemn and absolute.
"Charles Cranston—
Do you swear to serve my Lord with all your heart and soul,
At all times, in all places, no matter the hardship?"
With this level of theatrical devotion, Charles thought dryly, refusing isn't really an option.
Under the pressure of her divine presence, he bowed his head further and answered,
"I swear."
The moment the words left his lips, a thunderous surge erupted.
Brilliant white light exploded from the point where her hand met his forehead, flooding through his body before lashing outward in all directions like lightning!
Pure arcs of radiance tore through the air, stirring violent winds. Nearby, the holy scriptures resting upon a chair began flipping pages on their own.
[Under the witness of Cardinal Ferriji Misel,
Bound by the Sacred Halo,
You have sworn the Thorn Oath.]
…
"Do you swear to strictly uphold the Thirteen Covenants of the Holy Scripture,"
she continued,
"and never waver, no matter the temptation?"
To others, this might have been a terrifying binding vow.
But Charles possessed the Tongue of Oaths—and the Substitute Death Rite.
He felt no fear at all.
"I swear."
Light burst forth once more. His hair and robes were whipped into disarray as the hall grew blindingly bright.
…
"Do you swear to walk the Church's path of justice,
without exception—no matter the person, no matter the matter?"
…
One vow.
Then another.
Then another.
Like a sacred wedding rite, the archbishop posed nine vows in total.
Charles answered all nine.
Each oath was followed by a violent surge of holy light and roaring wind. By the time the final vow was spoken, the hall was in complete disarray. His clothes were rumpled, his hair wild, the air still trembling with residual power.
The archbishop, however, looked deeply satisfied.
She withdrew her hand from Charles's forehead and smiled down at him—gentle, almost maternal.
"My child," she said softly,
"please—give me your hand."
Charles hesitated for only a moment before complying.
Ferriji stepped back half a pace, grasped his wrist firmly—
And pulled.
The world shattered.
Cold moonlight spilled through the forest canopy, scattering into mottled patches of pale silver. Beneath his feet, the ground—thick with decaying leaves—gave off faint, brittle sounds with every step.
Charles lifted his gaze.
One pale-barked pine after another stood beneath the moon, casting long, slanted shadows. A thin mist drifted through the woods, and deeper within the forest—under an unknown source of light—the fog grew hazy and diffuse, like floating dust… or like the lingering gloom of a graveyard, heavy with something unclean.
"This is…"
Moments ago, he had stood in the radiant hall of the cathedral. In the blink of an eye, it had become a nocturnal forest shrouded in shadow.
Charles had no idea where this place truly was, but instinct told him this must be where the Circle Ascension took place.
Yet neither Zachary nor Connie had ever mentioned anything like this.
"So this isn't a standard ascension?"
Recalling the archbishop's earlier words, Charles did not feel particularly anxious. After a brief survey of his surroundings—and finding nothing immediately threatening—he stepped toward the distant glow ahead.
No matter the world, moving toward the light was human instinct.
Before he could take more than a few steps, a sharp cat's cry rang out without warning.
Charles stopped instantly.
Following the sound, he saw a black cat standing on a tree branch not far away.
[Moonshadow Cat — Celestial Species, Bloodline Conduit]
[It is not a living creature, but a projection of power]
…
As the Eye of Reality's notification faded, the black cat dissolved into mist—then reappeared beneath a pale pine nearby.
It stared at him again with those strange, luminous eyes.
This time, however, a second identical black cat silently appeared at its side.
[Moonlight Duplicate — a racial talent of the Moonshadow Cat]
[Each duplicate possesses power equal to the original]
…
"Demonstrating its abilities?"
Charles made no move to retreat or provoke. Instead, he watched closely.
The cat was beautiful.
Its sleek fur shimmered under the moonlight, its movements graceful and fluid. A pair of vertical pupils—one blue, one crimson—flickered vividly in the darkness, mesmerizing and unnatural.
As Charles observed, the cat began circling him.
At times, there was only one.
At times, two or three.
Sometimes they vanished entirely—
Only to reappear perched upon every surrounding branch.
The constantly shifting number of glowing eyes hovered in the night like the most exquisite, multicolored stars—illusory, drifting, impossible to pin down. It was a sight few would ever witness.
Then, all at once, every black cat disappeared.
A long, ethereal cry echoed from above.
Charles looked up—
And saw that the cold moon hanging in the sky had somehow transformed into half the cat's face.
Those enormous blue-and-red eyes, as large as lanterns, gazed down from the heavens—searchlight-bright—fixing upon the insignificant figure below.
The scene was deeply unsettling.
It felt as though the cat existed in another world entirely, peering through a narrow, crescent-shaped window of moonlight to spy upon this forest.
Then—
Everything vanished.
The forest dissolved into blank whiteness.
Before Charles stood a stone statue of a cat.
The sculpture rested atop a stone pedestal roughly equal to his height, placing the cat's form level with his chest. Its limbs were grounded, its once-dazzling eyes dulled by stone, stripped of their former brilliance.
Silently, the statue raised one forepaw and held it out toward him—
An unmistakable invitation.
A call to touch.
To awaken.
To accept.
But Charles had no desire to become something other than human.
Facing the unspoken offer, he simply shook his head.
A distant cat's cry echoed faintly.
And the world shattered.