The Vastness of Magical Destiny

Noyola was always annoyed by the sight of the man in the same unchanging gray robe. The man’s face was as calm as ever, resembling his expression every morning when he knew nothing about the new day yet. Didn’t he know that two of his Heavenly Knights had already died unnaturally and that Trajan had been severely damaged beyond recovery? Didn’t he know that Michelangelo had also experienced unprecedented Dark Erosion, to the extent that even his soul had been desecrated?

Noyola didn’t like this man at all, who was as ascetic as those monks with closed minds. What he truly thought deep inside was hard to discern. Compared to this man, Noyola would rather cooperate with Frenster, who at least wasn’t as affected and artificial, although they were equally troublesome.

However, this was just a thought. The current situation could not accommodate personal emotions. Noyola believed that this man did not like him either and was equally unwilling to cooperate with him, but now they had to sit down and feign civility.

Lorenzo noticed the annoyance in Noyola’s heart. He knew that Vazinsky and the chief of the Religious Court had never got along, which made him constantly worried that their cooperation might not last. However, he had not expected that right at the start of their collaboration, they would face such a staggering blow. St. Vasily Church’s protective power had suffered unprecedented losses, while the Religious Court, the protagonist, had remained unscathed, losing only a prisoner. Could this lead to suspicion and dissatisfaction from the other party?

Vazinsky’s eyes were downcast, seemingly lost in thought. Noyola looked up at the sky motionlessly, also pondering something. Lorenzo knew that if he didn’t break this nearly suffocating scene first, this deadlock would continue indefinitely. Both men were extremely proud, and perhaps no one except the Pope could make them bow their heads first.

"Grand Archon Vazinsky, we are all aware of the situation. We were unlucky this time, just missing the enemy. To put it precisely, they were better prepared than us. They anticipated our plan, so we gained nothing in Homer and Caucasus while they struck us hard here," Lorenzo sighed lightly. "I deeply regret what happened to Knight Trajan, Sir Michelangelo, and the two Heavenly Knights."

A muscle on his cheek finally moved. The gray-robed old man’s gaze was still calm and peaceful, "Defending the truth always requires sacrifices, and that is nothing. We can withstand even greater sacrifices. I believe they do not regret their actions. However, I am just very surprised that the senior priests of the Court managed to accomplish nothing? How could they allow those remnants of darkness to rescue Rebry right under everyone’s watch? It’s unimaginable."

Noyola didn’t respond, but his eyelids rapidly twitched. He reminded himself to be patient. This was not the time for him to interject; it was better to let Lorenzo negotiate.

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ ɴovᴇl(F)ɪre.ɴet

"Grand Archon Vazinsky, I believe Sir Schiller has already submitted a detailed report that you have reviewed. Certainly, Schiller cannot compare to Trajan or Michelangelo. He did all he could, and we can’t force him to make futile sacrifices, right?" Lorenzo argued hopefully, knowing that the situation could only worsen if it continued. His hope rested on Vazinsky’s reason and calm.