Thirty minutes inside the sermon.

The bearded head priest, after a brief history, started to conduct a spiritual lecture. The man’s frail but wise and smooth voice amplified the effects of the already deep messages.

Every one of the participants- be it the nobles above, most of whose motives were to make connections or the commoner below, many of whom had come just to fill their stomachs- listened to the loud words with utmost attention.

Almost everyone.

“Understood?” Adrian asked. His eyes were fixed on the lectern. There was a slight smile on his face.

His three companions nodded.

The sermon went on. Despite the nightfall, the hall was as bright as ever. The grand chandelier above and a dozen of well placed light magic circles were functioning properly.

But despite all those sources of light, it was… cold.

A lot of the poor commoners below, who barely covered their bodies with thin clothes, began to shiver.

The nobles on the upper floor frowned. Though thunder years were known for their heavy rainfalls, it was far from being cold. At least a healthy dry person would not shiver.

But the temperature of the room reminded them of the previous year, or the year before year before that- a frigid year. Moreover, it kept dropping.

The preacher knitted his eyebrows as well, but his lips did not stop. His wise and pleasant voice reverberated through the church.

Soon, the coldness of the room began to seep even into the thick coats of the nobles, causing them to tremble.

The fire circlers among the attendees tried to resist with their spells. But their efforts were futile.

The crowd below could not take it anymore. A din started.

The middle aged bearded man gave the door through which he came from a glance. Soon, about half a dozen men- garbed in white and gold- priests of the church came out, magical energy circulating to the maximum, senses risen to their peak.

The head priest halted his speech and scanned through the crowd below. The ones above were verified participants. His results were not any different than those of his subordinates.

Soon, another anomaly began to occur. The lights began to flash. It was not that of any lightning outside, but the malfunctioning of the sources of light.

But the flashes did not last for long. Soon, it stopped; and so did the illumination from the circles.

The uproar got even more intense. The families got close to each other. The ones standing behind took a step back, closing the gap between themselves and the entrance.

Now, only one source of light remained in the entire hall- the grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

That one beacon, however, was cut off.

The ceiling crashed onto the marbled floor of the church, sending shards of glass everywhere- injuring many in the front row and even blinding some.

“Aaaaah!” The ground floor turned into a pandemonium as everyone screamed and began to run at the only entrance of the door.

But before anyone could get out, the two heavy gates slammed shut. The one who thought himself to be the most fortunate for being closest to the gates turned out to be the most unfortunate. He was the first to attain ‘martyrdom’ that night, crushed between the two slabs of gold.

His shattered bones and pasted organs acted as a ‘natural’ lock for the door. Not to mention, the bloody sight and the horrid smell alone made everyone think twice before getting close to the door.

Soon, a few more joined the ‘unfortunate’ soul. Unlike their predecessor, they were crushed under the feet of their fellow attendees.

The cries only got louder and louder. The coldness that were seeping into their bones and darkness that took their sight only added to the mortal terror they were facing. And soon, the metallic smell of blood sieved through their nostrils.

Their desperate cries began to shake the cores of the ‘calm’ nobles above. Their magical energies were circulating to the maximum.

Seeing the situation going out of control, the head priest could not hold it back anymore.

“WHO DARES?!” Any sense of frailness and wisdom had disappeared. What remained was endless wrath. The sound circle, unlike its light attribute counterparts, was working just fine. The head priest held reservation because facing an unknown enemy was dangerous.

Moreover, despite searching for minutes, he had yet to got a single hint of the enemies’ presence which evidenced the strength of the enemies.

But he could not stay low forever, could he? After all, he was a head priest- a man in service of Saint Ervil.

“Just because Ervil is merciful, do you think you can do whatever you want in his church?” The man roared, his eyes darting through the crowd below. His words prompted the uproar to calm down a bit.

“Merciful?” A reply came. The voice was grim. Just the single world alone clasped the hearts of everyone present, making them want to kneel to the source- which was nowhere to be found.

“Creating an unassailable wall- putting one group on the safe side and one group on the other, labelling one group as nobles and the other group as commoners- you call that merciful?” The voice which had an immense aura of authority, asked the head priest.

The commoners, who felt terror from the voice before, subconsciously began to support it. But the terror remained. They witnessed how that man was crushed to paste.

“Hmph!” The bearded priest snorted. “Did you expect the holy man to keep his bloodline among these… animals?” He did not hold back anything at all as he pointed his finger ahead.

The crowd frowned. The church- their only place of salvation- that’s what it thought of them? Animals?

“Preserve bloodline?” The voice laughed, sending chills through everyone’s spine. “Look at how many noble families are there today. Do you think they came from one or two women? The one you call a ‘Saint’ is nothing but a lustful scumbag!”

“BLASPHEMY!” A voice roared, one that did not belong to the head priest.

The face behind the grim voice, grinned.