The hymn rising from the depths of the Sacred Spring now reached the heavens.
Words possessed power, enough to kill the sun. And ancient poetry was even more thoroughly coated in the balm of "beauty."
It was a tool of sacrifice, an unfrozen beauty, wisdom in motion.
"I praise the Twin Mirrors, the eyeless, selfless, perfectly pure god!"
Aymar Nur chanted loudly, striking the surface of the lake with the Holy Staff.
Even the most unruly and arrogant good gods maintained proper, pious postures at this moment.
Everyone quietly chanted the hymn praising the Twin Mirrors. Their postures differed, but every one of them conveyed a sense of "tranquility."
More and more white smoke rose silently. It was cold vapor.
It coiled around their skin, carrying a chill like jade.
The hymn did not stop. But when everyone entered a state of emptiness, their consciousness suddenly vanished.
Iver felt as though he had arrived in a mysterious world made of endless fog.
He seemed to be flying high in the sky, with fierce wind beating against his body.
Then, that sensation of imbalance suddenly intensified. The raging wind brought a feeling of suffocation, and his mind instantly cleared.
Iver felt his hair streaming wildly behind him. His body instinctively spread the six white wings of the Winged Ones.
At that moment, a voice Iver seemed to have heard somewhere before rang softly beside his ear:
"—Know thyself."
The voice was ethereal as wind and gentle as water. Yet after hearing it, Iver felt as though it had been an illusion, or even something that had appeared before.
Iver suddenly remembered. He had indeed heard that voice.
It was the voice of the Twin Mirrors he had heard during the Promotion Ritual in which he became a Blood Slave of the