Invested as the Long Night Lord

"In the name of the Most Holy, you swear before the Sacred Flame and all saints.

Now, invested here as the Long Night Lord, go to the Eternal Night Wall to build a wall with flesh and bone, guard the Sacred Flame from extinction, and resist the long night without retreating a single step.

This oath does not take survival as its term, but ends only with fulfillment.

Those invested, state your names."

"Roland Augustine, accept the order and take the oath!" "Kevin Disraeli, accept the order and take the oath!"...

Responses rang out one after another in the Holy Temple, some panicked, some tense, and others deliberately feigning steadiness.

Until the last voice sounded, a voice somewhat childish, yet shockingly steady: "Sheen Greenwood, accept the order and take the oath."

The Sacred Flame burned in the center of the Holy Temple, casting a reddish glow on the silver brazier and stretching the shadows of the five invested figures into slender lines.

Bishop Castian stood before the Sacred Flame, his silver-gray short hair combed meticulously back, wearing a heavy, solemn set of holy robes embroidered with the crest symbolizing the Most Holy Church.

His scrutinizing gaze swept over each person one by one, as if tallying a batch of consumable materials about to be thrown onto the front lines.

The young nobility before him forced a calm composure, but slightly hurried breaths still inevitably betrayed their inner tension.

When the bishop's gaze landed on the youth at the very end, however, it paused for a fleeting moment.

The youth named Sheen knelt on one knee at the very end of the line.

His silver-white long hair cast a cold sheen in the firelight, and he was clearly younger than the others, looking only fourteen or fifteen.

Yet among a group of twenty-something, sturdy and robust young nobles, he instead kept his spine the straightest.

On that delicate face, his expression remained somewhat aloof throughout, as if the breathing around him and the suppressed snickers of the distant nobles had nothing to do with him.

On a bench in the corner of the Holy Temple, two noblewomen sat side by side, half their faces concealed behind exquisite fans as they whispered to each other.

"What a pity." The red-haired noblewoman's gaze crossed those robust youths, landing unreservedly on the silver-haired youth as though appraising a fragile antique.

"Among a herd of startled bulls, a pretty fawn has slipped in. That face, those eyes, and this cold temperament... In another two years, it's bound to stir up no small amount of trouble."

The blond noblewoman curved her red lips, smiling in agreement. "Actually, we could make a move now; tender and juicy."

Their banter carried no malice, yet bore a certain lofty pity instead.

"Too bad he has to go to the Eternal Night Wall." The red-haired noblewoman sighed. "Sending a child this young to the Eternal Night Wall is no different from pronouncing a death sentence outright."

"I heard he's Count Greywood's illegitimate son?"

"No wonder."

The low murmurs did not come solely from those two noblewomen.

The nobles seated present dared not speak loudly in the Holy Temple, yet it still did not prevent them from expressing their attitude with the tears in the corners of their eyes, slightly upturned lips, or meaningful shakes of the head.

At the same time, the ceremony had reached its final step.

Bishop Castian took the Holy Silver fine sword from an attendant.

The tip of the sword paused briefly in the Sacred Flame, then descended in turn, finally coming to a sharp rest upon the shoulder armor of the youth at the very end.

"The Sacred Flame inscribes the name, the duty is established."

From the instant the sword tip descended, Sheen Greenwood was the veritable Long Night Lord.

The bishop withdrew the Holy Silver fine sword, turned to take a parchment document from an attendant, and his level voice rang out once more in the Holy Temple:

"By the ruling of the Holy War Council,

The invested ones of the Kingdom of Austeria: Roland Augustine, Kevin Disraeli, Eric Moran, Thomas Reno, and Sheen Greenwood.

Depart immediately and take up quarters in the Graymist Defense Zone.

Respectively garrison, White Fang Fief, Abandoned Horse Fief, Iron Gleam Fief, Shattered Stone Fief, and Blackpine Fief."

At the moment the name Graymist Defense Zone was spoken, aside from Sheen, the shoulders and backs of the other four newly appointed Long Night Lords tightened involuntarily.

They all understood what this meant.

The Graymist Defense Zone had once been a defensive line that made the Kingdom of Austeria proud, boasting heavy cavalry arrays, abundant supplies, and a complete Sacred Flame system.

Yet just last Blood Moon Season, a misjudgment by the governor allowed the Werewolf Tribe to complete a frontal breakthrough, snapping the defensive line in half and quickly turning the entire region into a playground for the werewolves.

Although the church holy knights barely chased the werewolves out after the Blood Moon Season ended, that side had also completely become a wasteland where everything had to start over.

Moreover, according to the current situation, barring a miracle, there was an eighty percent chance the Graymist Defense Zone would fall once again during this year's Blood Moon Season, and these five newly appointed Long Night Lords would also be buried there.

Yet no one dared to raise objections or express dissatisfaction.

For under the laws of the Most Holy Church, refusing the appointment of Long Night Lord was no different from betraying human civilization.

Their family would be stripped of their titles, assets sealed, and registry erased.

The individual themselves would be handed over to holy judgment, sent to the burning stake, and their soul declared banished from the shelter of the Sacred Flame.

Therefore, to the five young people, this was less an appointment representing glory and more like a nine-to-one exile.

To the nobles watching from below, they were long accustomed to watching batch after batch of young lives sent toward the ceaselessly operating giant meat grinder of the Eternal Night Wall.

In the corner bench, the two noblewomen turned slightly to the side.

"The Graymist Defense Zone..." The red-haired noblewoman covered her mouth with a fan, a cheap pity in her tone. "Among these five children, I'm afraid only Roland and Kevin can survive the first year; after all, major families can still provide a bit more support."

The blonde noblewoman softly continued, "For the others to survive this year's Blood Moon is already a blessing of the Sacred Flame."

Several accompanying family members within the Holy Temple could finally no longer suppress their emotions, letting out faint, sobbing sounds.

They did not dare to cry out loud, only tightly wringing the lace handkerchiefs in their hands.

In the distance, a few young noble scions exchanged a tacit understanding look, a faint, mocking yet relieved smirk hanging at the corners of their mouths.

They were also candidates for this year's Long Night Lord, and when these most dangerous regions were refilled, it meant they had escaped the most tragic fate.

On the stage, Bishop Castian's gaze had already fallen back onto the five newly appointed Long Night Lords.

The first four still maintained the standard investiture posture, their figures straight and expressions submissive.

They had all received a proper knightly education and knew well that inside the Holy Temple, any loss of composure was a disrespect to the Most Holy Church.

Yet the cold sweat seeping from their temples and the unconsciously heavier breathing still inevitably exposed their inner unease and panic.

Bishop Castian was not surprised by this; nowadays, the name Graymist Defense Zone alone was enough to make any Long Night Lord feel fear.

Fear was not a sin; running away was.

His gaze finally landed on the fifth person.

That perpetually calm silver-haired youth saw his ice-blue pupils suddenly contract slightly, but they quickly returned to tranquility.

Clearly, he too was shocked by this result, just better at concealing it than others.

Bishop Castian still wore a blank expression, yet he sighed inwardly. After all, for this child, it was still too early.

Yet he did not know that the thing which truly caused the youth to lose focus for a split second was not the location of the territory, but the whisper that had rung out in his mind without warning.

"Territory confirmed, the Canon of Grace and Righteousness has finished activation."

The Golden Finger that was late by a year had finally arrived at this moment.

Shien lowered his eyelids, perfectly gathering that trace of shock deep into his eyes.