"Step back," Julian said flatly, his voice carrying an absolute, quiet authority that made the old Pope instantly freeze. "Your manufactured prayers will only disrupt the frequency. I will handle the alignment myself."

Julian looked back over his shoulder at Alaric, who was watching him with a fierce, unyielding trust, his massive frame standing as the ultimate shield for the family.

Julian offered a faint, reassuring nod, then stepped up to the very lip of the Great Vat. He knelt down on the cold bedrock, letting the hem of his blue robes drape into the water, and extended both of his hands directly over the surging pool.

Julian needed no prayer, for in his heart lay the very source of their power, the very source of their spirituality.

He had been deeply affected by the sync with the deity, and he could feel it in every fiber of his being.

His head was perfectly cleared, free of the old, agonizing pressure, and his tone had grown a little more distant, carried by an ancient weight.

Yet, his motive remained entirely clear. What he had to do to protect his family and end the loop—he knew it very well.

He closed his eyes.

The moment his eyelids shut, a heavy, breathtaking silence fell over the entire subterranean chamber.

Julian didn’t utter a single syllable, nor did he wave his hands in the dramatic, sweeping gestures the high priests usually practiced. He simply breathed out.

A sudden, brilliant ripple flared across the surface of the Great Vat. The crystal-clear water, which had been cascading from the ceiling for a thousand years, completely stopped its natural turbulence.

It grew smooth as a polished mirror, catching the golden glow vibrating from Julian’s skin as a resonant pulse traveled through the water.

The high priests holding the silver ritual staffs staggered back, their grey eyes widening in absolute terror. They could feel the frequency changing.

The liquid silver wasn’t just glowing; it was thickening with pure baseline divinity. The manufactured blessings they had prepared over decades were entirely overwritten in a single second, dissolved by the presence of the Saint.

"Throw them in," Julian commanded softly, his voice echoing flatly against the white bedrock.

Kaelen didn’t hesitate. Trusting the tutor blindly, the northern commander stepped forward first, lifting his heavy iron sword and submerging it completely into the shimmering pool.

The moment the unbaptized iron touched the water, the liquid silver seemed to climb up the metal, wrapping around the hilt and spreading across the blade like a flawless glaze.

The heavy, dark steel absorbed the light until it vibrated with a faint, humming white resonance. It was perfectly insulated.

Alaric watched the transformation with a dangerous, focused intensity, his grip on Lucius tightening as the chamber filled with a blinding, protective warmth.

Julian watched the weapon coated in the silver from the water and looked at his hands. They were still glowing golden, but the gold did not spread over the water. It was silver instead.

It was this kind of misunderstanding that made the Church believe that silver was purity.

He shut his eyes. Especially when the god that had descended their barren lands had silver hair and was wearing flowing white robes.

They were just trying to emulate him in the pursuit of purity and had completely forgotten what they were made to do. The church was created to protect, not seek converts, and shun the rest of the world for not following their doctrine. They were supposed to love. They were supposed to be their brothers’ keepers and not look down at the lesser from above.

A feeling of disappointment and pain filled Julian’s heart, in sync with the god of light’s emotions on what had become of the humans he had entrusted to guide the ones who were lost.

A single tear fell from his left eye. A golden tear, and it fell into the pool.

"Bring the rest of the steel," Julian ordered.

He could not let the god of light’s emotions sway him and cloud his initial thoughts of the church, but... he could not help but feel these emotions heavily.

I will do my part and beat some sense into them for you, Julian thought, a light chuckle vibrating in his chest as he opened his eyes once again and stared into the reflection on the silver water. Right there, there was Alias, his silver flowing hair, and the silver eyes looking sadly at him. Don’t worry. I won’t leave them on their astray path. Leave it to me, Alias.

The silver-haired Alias smiled and then faded back into Julian’s reflection.

Behind Kaelen, the rest of the northern knights advanced in an orderly, silent line.

One by one, the elite warriors stepped to the edge of the stone vat, lowering their finely forged longswords, greatswords, and standard-issue blades into the glowing reservoir.

The liquid silver climbed up every surface, insulating the proper knightly weapons in a flawless glaze that would easily shatter the abyssal void on the battlefield.

As the blades were lifted out, glinting with a pristine white resonance, the high priests and the elders watched in absolute silence.

They were staring not just at the miracle of the baptism, but at the golden tear that had rippled through the entire reservoir, causing the silver water to pulse with a warm, sun-like undertone it had never possessed before.

They truly, we’re watching something remarkable.

Julian slowly rose to his feet, the hem of his blue robes dripping with liquid silver. His posture was perfectly elegant, but his vibrant blue eyes held a sharp, historical clarity that cut straight through the room.

"Commander Nadic," Julian called out, his voice sharp and carrying the refined weight of a scholar. "Your men are to assist the northern vanguard in securing the armor plating. Every shield, every gauntlet, and every piece of steel meant to protect a life must pass through this water before the sun hits the horizon."

Nadic snapped out of his trance, his grey eyes wide as he looked from Julian’s face to the glowing weapons of the northern knights. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

The absolute proof was right in front of him; this wasn’t heresy. It was the purest form of preservation the empire had ever witnessed.

"Immediately, Saint Julian," Nadic declared, bowing deeply. He turned to his officers, his rough voice barking out military commands that instantly set the Holy Knights into motion.

The historical animosity between the two factions dissolved into the shared, urgent rhythm of preparing for a common enemy.

Alaric stepped closer to Julian’s side, easily shifting the quiet Lucius against his shoulder.

His sharp blue eyes scanned the subterranean chamber, keeping a protective watch over his partner while the priests scrambled to follow directives.

"You look tired," Alaric murmured, his deep voice carrying a private, grounding warmth meant only for Julian’s ears. "It seems the baptism is draining."