Outside the church, Simon removed his black face covering and knelt on one knee, pressing his palm to the ground.
"In the name of the god I revere, grant us the shackles that carry out your will, binding all that lies outside Order."
The black-clad clergy forming two rings around the church-more precisely, members of the Whip of Order-all knelt on one knee and made the same gesture, chanting in unison:
"In the name of the god I revere, grant us the shackles that carry out your will, binding all that lies outside Order."
The shadow of a black chain appeared beneath each member of the Whip of Order, all extending toward the church before them.
Seen from afar,
they looked like black chains locking down both the church and the Throne of Order above it!
Rasma stood up, gritted his teeth somewhat helplessly, and said:
"Dis, you've gone mad. Do you know who you look like to me now? That last mad Pope before the Church of Light's destruction."
"You all thought he was mad, but what if he was truly clearheaded? He once stood atop a spire and shouted that he didn't believe the God of Light existed at all.
"Now, I'm beginning to understand how he felt.
"No matter how correct your thoughts are, when you don't follow the crowd, the crowd can define you as a madman.
"Rasma,
"you haven't experienced that feeling yet, but you should be able to imagine it.
"The last Pope of the Church of Light sincerely disbelieved in the God of Light's existence, yet he climbed step by step to the papal throne;
"you've always held firm faith in the God of Order,
"yet standing right before you,
"I, who keep blaspheming against him,
"have already condensed a godhead fragment.