The atmosphere in the Templar Order's Command Center in the Western European War Zone was stifling.
"This isn't generosity. It's the standard."
The commander's words drained the color from every senior officer's face.
Yes. The standard.
If they wanted to survive and receive Divine Grace, they had to meet that standard.
They had to trade the purest faith for the right to live.
For people who had always held fast to their own faith, it was unthinkable.
In the North American War Zone, at the Court of Sin Punishment.
The players who had survived the disaster greedily breathed in the clean air.
They touched the sturdy stone houses, scooped up handfuls of clear spring water, and felt the miracle of their wounds healing.
It was all so real. It was all so beautiful.
So beautiful that many forgot how they had obtained it.
They forgot the gate of light that burned souls and the cold, merciless judgment.
"We're saved! We're really saved!"
"Thank the gods! They've given us new life!"
Cheers rose from the crowd. Some wept with joy and knelt to kiss the purified ground.
Adams stood among them without moving.
He watched the three figures above the square and the Sword of Sin Punishment planted in the ground beneath them. This newborn land did nothing to ease the chill in his heart.
He knew better than anyone that this was not the end.
It was only a new beginning.
The beginning of a life in which they could no longer control their own fate.
Night Cherry Tangle swept his gaze over the cheering crowd, his expression utterly calm.
He spoke slowly.
"This place is called the Court of Sin Punishment."
"You are no longer North American players. Your former identities are gone."
The cheers stopped dead.
People