"I'll give you ten minutes. If you don't come out by then, I'll turn this place into a wasteland.
I suggest that you let your disciples and grand-disciples leave this place first. "The old man was still standing on the same steps as before as he spoke coldly.
Seconds later, his voice reverberated throughout the Cathedral.
After a brief moment of silence, the entire Cathedral erupted into a frenzy.
The disciples looked for the source of the voice with angry eyes. Clergy, priests, and members of the Inquisition swarmed out.
The old man wasn't hard to find. He stood out like a sore thumb.
Rays of light immediately converged in his direction and rushed towards him as fast as they could.
But before they could get within ten meters of the old man, they were shrouded in a blinding light. Just like the first priest, they were frozen in place, unable to move.
"Guide the faithful away. Close the Cathedral." A clear, authoritative voice called out.
The clerics who had been charging at the old man stopped in their tracks, and the Cathedral began to clear the area.
Two figures emerged from two different directions. At the same time, the door behind the old man opened, and another man stepped out.
Three people, three different directions, slowly walked forward, but strangely, their pace was very consistent.
The old man turned around and faced the person who walked out from behind the door. There was no expression on his aged face.
"Arcane Magnate, I trust you've been well."
The newcomer was a handsome man, with long golden hair flowing down his back. From the back, one might mistake him for a woman.
His features were as beautiful as a painting.
He was handsome, but he didn't lose his masculinity.
His robes were pure white, untainted by even a speck of dust. His eyes were golden, and he radiated a holy aura.
"Metatron.
You're not qualified.
Where's the Pope? "The old man asked.
The blond youth smiled. "The Pope is praying. He'll come out in a moment. Please wait."
He didn't seem to mind the old man's arrogant words in the Cathedral. It was as if he was welcoming a friend from afar.
"I said, ten minutes. Seven." The old man clasped his hands behind his back.
He raised his head to look at the murals on the dome of the Cathedral of the Holy Lance. His face was one of appreciation, and there wasn't the slightest hint of anger in his eyes.
The two silhouettes on both sides also gradually walked in. They were two women.
The woman on the left wore a pure white dress and was as beautiful as a fairy. Her skin was fair and tender, and even her long hair was white.
The other woman had a head of light blue long hair. Strangely, the color of her hair seemed to be changing.
Looking at it from different angles and at different times, it was all different.
Her appearance was much more ordinary.
But just like her hair, it gave people a feeling that they couldn't see clearly.
Metatron sighed. "Arcane Magnate, we know why you're here.
We are also very sorry about this. "
The old man laughed mockingly. "It's a pity that I couldn't keep them here.
Right?
Today, you can try and see if you can keep me here.
I've lived too long.
He was really tired of living.
Hmm, this church is quite beautiful.
It would be a good coffin for me.
I just don't know how many funerals I'll find. "
Metatron's face fell. "Arcane Magnate, please be careful what you say.
The dignity of a god cannot be blasphemed. "
The old man snorted disdainfully. "The only god in my heart is mathematics.
A god is nothing but a dog's fart. "
"How dare you!"
The woman on the left snarled. Her white hair billowed in the wind, and a silvery moon appeared behind her. At the same time, six silver-white wings unfurled from her back. A strong, holy aura enveloped the old man.
"An incomplete Angel of the Moon dares to bark before me?" The old man waved his hand dismissively.
A strange beam of light suddenly bloomed outward.
It was strange, fanning out in all directions.
When the Angel of the Moon's silvery moonlight touched the beam of light, it melted away. Even more frightening was the fact that in the blink of an eye, the Angel of the Moon was completely enveloped.
Suffocating, the Angel of the Moon's face fell.
"Mercy, Arcane Magnate!"
Metatron cried out. He took a step forward, and in the blink of an eye was in front of the old man. He lifted a hand and brushed it against the old man's body. Behind him, layers upon layers of golden wings appeared. It was difficult to tell how many there were.
Metatron's aura wasn't vast, but it was pure. The golden light emanating from his hand was like a sun in the Cathedral.
"Hmph!" The old man snorted. His body suddenly became illusory, and in the next moment he was gone.
However, the light that enveloped the Angel of the Moon expanded. In the blink of an eye, the entire cathedral was enveloped in light.
Miranda, the Angel of the Moon, and the other priestess felt the same suffocation.
"Arcane Magnate, you must not!" Metatron cried out, but his voice was muffled in the vacuum of space.
He could only transmit his thoughts outwards through his spiritual will. At the same time, a layer of gentle golden light spread outwards with his body as the center.
Metatron was second only to the Pontiff in the Pontiff's Citadel. He was stronger than the Seven Archangels, and was once known as the strongest under the Paragons.
But even he felt his hands and feet bound in front of the old man. It was as if he was afraid of angering him.
"You have three minutes!" The old man's voice boomed from every direction, making it impossible to pinpoint his exact location.
Just then, a sonorous hymn began to fill the air. The walls of the Cathedral began to glow with a milky-white light. Behind Metatron, layers upon layers of light began to emerge from the doors behind him.
Tiny angels of light danced in the air. Their holy aura calmed the hearts of the onlookers.
The space around them smiled as the angels soared. Air returned, and the oppressive pressure vanished.
"Crazy old man. You're still as crazy as ever." It was the same old voice, but this time it was simple and helpless.
A man with snow-white hair, clad in the regal robes of the Pontiff, and a crown on his head, slowly stepped forward.
Metatron's position in the Holy See was extraordinary. He merely took a step back and nodded in greeting. The other two women bowed in greeting.
"If you hadn't come out, you'd have had to rebuild your lair."
An illusory figure descended upon the Pontiff's altar. Slowly but surely, the old man with one foot in the grave appeared before everyone's eyes.
The Pontiff looked at the old man. "Do you really have to do this, Keeper?"
Indeed, this was the man Metatron called the Arcane Magnate. The man who had terrorized so many of the Pontiff's Citadel with a single strike. This was the same old man who spent his days on Skyfire Avenue sipping tea.
The Keeper's mouth twitched. "You know the rules of Skyfire Avenue, I'm sure.
The Jewelry Master is one of our eighteen councilors. You knew that, and yet you set a trap for him.
How do you plan to explain this? "
The Pontiff looked at the Keeper suspiciously. "You crazy old man. I've never seen you so enthusiastic before.
Aren't you afraid of death?
How dare you come here alone?
You must know that in the Holy City my strength is amplified. Even the Eye of Tomorrow wouldn't be able to do anything to me. "
The Keeper chuckled. "I don't plan on doing anything to you.
Of the ten Paragons, I'm eighth, and you're sixth. You're stronger than me.
But there's one thing you can't compare to me.
When it comes to destruction, other than the top two Paragons, no one else can compare to me.
Tell me, if I were to fire a Positron Cannon at your Cathedral, what would it look like? "
The Pontiff's brows furrowed, and he sighed. "Fine, we're in the wrong here.
If it weren't for the Dark Citadel's Enchantress, do you think I'd want to provoke you?
I'll give you an explanation. What do you want?
You should know by now that your people are fine.
Michael's Angel of War is completely destroyed, and he himself is gravely injured. He'll need at least a year to recover.
You guys didn't suffer much. "
"None of this has anything to do with me," the Keeper retorted. "All I know is that I was doing business with the Jewelry Master, and you ruined it.
I don't ask for much. Make up for the losses we've suffered, and I'll leave. "
The Pontiff paused, then helplessly said, "I knew you'd only get up early if you wanted something.
Fine, here you go.
This matter ends here. "
As he spoke, he turned to Metatron and nodded.
Metatron's brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something, but the Pontiff silenced him with a look.
The Keeper looked at the Pontiff suspiciously. "Since when did you become so accommodating, you old fart?"
The Pontiff's eyes grew cold. "Don't try to act like you've gotten the better end of the deal, you old fart.
Take your things and get the hell out of here.
Don't think I can't do anything to you.
If I had to risk losing the Cathedral and injuring myself, the Pontiff's Citadel would be strong enough to keep you here.
At most we'd have to compromise with the Dark Citadel.
Your Skyfire Avenue wouldn't be able to do anything to us. "
The Keeper chuckled. "Then you try!"
The Pontiff fumed. This madman didn't know how to back down.
With a huff, the Pontiff turned and headed for the door.
He was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself from giving the order.
-----
I'm sorry I'm a little late. It's been a long time since I've been home this late. I had some urgent business to attend to, and had to crawl back in.
Please forgive me.
(To be continued)