Solemn hymns echoed through the halls. The Ryan Imperial Palace, once desolate, was packed with a vast sea of people once more, yet despite the crowd, the atmosphere was far from celebratory.
Sorrow was etched across the choir nuns' faces. What they sang of today was not praises for the great Lord of the Dawn, but a eulogy for a dying empire.
To the strains of the solemn, mournful hymns, the Rose of Decay stepped forward. Clad in magnificent robes shimmering like starlight, she walked step by step toward the towering throne.
What seemed like a simple ceremony had undergone dozens of rehearsals beforehand. Just donning the ceremonial dress she wore took seven or eight hours.
Every single accessory upon it represented a chapter of Ryan's history, and every line and pattern stitched into the cloth held a distinct meaning. Just as Herki Stone had previously decreed, every part of the ensemble—from the inner lining to the long skirt, from the sash to the headpiece—had to be fitted with the assistance of a noble lady of corresponding rank.
Then came the cosmetics, the decorations throughout the hall, the exact positioning of every attendee, and so on.
Every single part of the ceremony demanded solemn gravity, and every step had to be scrupulously recorded in the historical archives.
This solemn, intricate ritual was timed down to the exact second for each musical movement; if anything was off by even a second, the dwarf vampire would curse them out furiously for hours on end.
Yet no matter how aggrieved they felt, the people of Ryan could only comply.
Over the course of rehearsal after rehearsal, the people of Ryan also felt the sheer weight of history.
Every seemingly tyrannical demand from Herki Stone was designed in strict accordance with Ryan's ancient traditions. Every movement and demeanor had an origin that could be cited from the history books, and he articulated it with flawless authority.
Even the venerable, highly respected elders of Ryan had to concede that Herki Stone was the true custodian of Ryan orthodoxy, possessing a deeper knowledge of their history than they did.
Eventually, the people of Ryan began to accept the ritual.
A heritage spanning more than seventeen centuries was worthy of such elaborate pomp.
For this was the final empress of the Ryan Empire; today was the day of her coronation, and also the day she would renounce her imperial station for good.
Ryan had ultimately decided to cast aside the royal lineage that had been passed down for over seventeen hundred years. Starting from today, Ryan would no longer be an imperial monarchy.
The Rose of Decay had returned to Ryan for the first time—as an undead.
She walked calmly toward the throne, taking her seat with consummate grace upon the position countless people had coveted in their dreams.
Looking down at the kneeling subjects, the Rose of Decay felt her vision blur as sealed-away memories flooded her mind.
When she was just a little girl, she had watched her father sit upon this very throne, discussing state affairs with the ministers of Ryan. Back then, she had stood obediently at his side, gazing up at her father with eyes full of adoration.
Everyone had said this young princess would make a competent empress, that she would lead Ryan to an even more glorious future and make the Holy Light shine even more brilliantly.
The young Rose of Decay had agreed with them back then, and she had held herself to that very standard: to surpass every monarch before her and truly make Ryan a kingdom of God upon earth for the Lord of the Dawn.
"Just when did I become completely disillusioned with my parents and this country?" the Rose of Decay murmured under her breath in a voice only she could hear.
It had probably started after the bloodline tests when she turned twelve. With every test, her parents' expressions had grown progressively uglier. Once a beloved princess pampered in the palm of their hands, she eventually came to be looked upon by them with disgust and loathing.
No matter how exceptionally gifted she proved to be in divine spells or statecraft, none of it could compare to the utility of that drop of bloodline.
She clearly had the potential to become the empire's youngest legendary empress, yet instead of guidance from renowned masters, she was subjected to an endless barrage of arranged courtships before she had even come of age.
From youths of cadet branches to middle-aged men, all the way to disgusting freaks born of inbreeding... as long as their bloodline test results were passable, she was forced to "accept" them.
What filled the Rose of Decay's ears were no longer praise and encouragement, but repeated, harsh reminders: the day she became the Empress of Ryan would be the day of her wedding, and the ones she was to marry were those repulsive monstrosities.
So this was the sheer ugliness behind the so-called descendants of the Holy King; this was the utter depravity of this empire.
And today was the day she was to become the Empress of Ryan.
The Rose of Decay's eyes rimmed with red, looking as though tears were about to spill forth, but in the end, it was only a wash of crimson. Having become a lich, she had no tears—only defiled blood mixed with mercury.
A sudden urge to slaughter them all surged within her.
With her power, a single glance was all it would take to turn more than half of the Ryan people before her into zombies. Given just a little time, not a single soul could escape her Death Gaze; she could even leave them dead without them ever realizing they had perished.
Just as she was on the verge of turning every single Holy-Light-radiating Ryan citizen before her into undead, a hand encased in heavy armor reached out and gently enveloped her clenched fist.
The Rose of Decay turned her head to see a silver-white helmet.
Yet she knew exactly who was inside that armor: the knight of her dreams whom she had searched so hard to find.
Anbaixiu had embedded the magic mirror into this suit of armor, manifesting in humanoid form much like piloting a golem puppet, standing side by side with the Rose of Decay.
Today was her momentous occasion; he could not be absent, nor could he merely show his face in a mirror.
So he had specifically forged this armor. Though powering it with mana was a bit troublesome, it finally allowed him to stand beside her in person.
Anbaixiu whispered softly to the Rose of Decay, "It's all in the past. Don't worry, I'm here."
The tension in her knitted brow relaxed. Turning her hand over to grasp his, she smiled faintly and said, "You're right. Everyone who deserved to die is already dead."
The hymns continued. The Rose of Decay sat quietly upon the throne, gazing down upon the assembly.
This time, all emotion had vanished from her eyes, leaving only a gaze of cool detachment.
The intricate, drawn-out ceremony proceeded. A herald stepped forward to read the Ryan imperial proclamation of succession, and the Rose of Decay was officially crowned before the crowd. Then, just a few minutes later, she personally delivered the decree.
"The Ryan imperial bloodline hereby renounces all authority over the empire and transfers sovereignty to the Ryan Council. As of today, Ryan abolishes the imperial system."
The calm proclamation resounded through the entire grand hall. Behind her, the statue of the Lord of the Dawn began to blaze with brilliant radiance, the deity confirming the transfer of Ryan's power through this divine manifestation.
From this day forward, the empire that had endured for over seventeen hundred years ceased to exist, replaced by the Ryan Federation, an alliance of forty-three autonomous states.
Yet just when everyone thought this solemn ceremony had finally reached its conclusion, the commanding voice of the Lord of the Dawn echoed from within the divine statue.
"Now is the hour to proclaim your transgressions."
This time, not only were the people of Ryan dumbfounded, but even Anbaixiu stared at the statue of the Lord of the Dawn in utter shock.
No way, Bro Lathander, you're pulling this stunt today?
This doesn't feel right, nor does it seem appropriate!
The Lord of the Dawn was settling scores now? Among the Ryan citizens present, setting aside the choir nuns and attendants conducting the ceremony, the only ones truly tied to these transgressions were the forty-three councilors representing the autonomous states, weren't they?
Just how many of them had climbed to power through "unscrupulous methods" was something everyone knew in their hearts. For the Lord of the Dawn to settle accounts now seemed entirely improper. After all, they had voluntarily traveled to the Ryan Imperial Capital to attend this ceremony under the Lord of the Dawn's name.
Striking now—wasn't that the Lord of the Dawn discarding His own prestige and digging a trap for them to walk right into?
For a glorious, righteous deity, wouldn't doing this severely diminish His divine majesty?
If even Anbaixiu was this shocked, one could only imagine how the Ryan citizens felt. Never in their wildest dreams had they expected the Lord of the Dawn to pull such a move at a time like this. They had placed absolute faith in the Lord of the Dawn, only to be exploited by their very own god?
Just as Anbaixiu expected the councilors to turn hostile on the spot, an astonishing scene unfolded before him: all of the councilors dropped to their knees, weeping bitterly and pleading for the Lord of the Dawn's forgiveness.
Not a single one among them chose to resist.
Anbaixiu glanced at the Rose of Decay, making no effort to conceal his astonishment.
The Rose of Decay smiled and said, "What were you thinking? They're worshippers of the Lord of the Dawn. A deity punishing their own faithful isn't bound by Ao's restrictions."
Anbaixiu only then realized that was indeed the case.
The fundamental premise that allowed Anbaixiu to strike deals with so many deities was precisely that he didn't worship any of them.
Loviatar and Shar had tried to seduce him into becoming their follower on more than one occasion. Had Anbaixiu agreed, either of them could have punished him while completely bypassing Ao's laws.
A deity's punishment of their own worshippers was entirely unrestricted; slaying them outright was entirely fair game.
This was the very reason so many of the faithless existed.
Faith did not just bring benefits; it also imposed constraints.
The moment you violated dogma and enraged your deity, you had to face retribution.
The Lord of the Dawn's standards for His worshippers were extraordinarily high, but for over a millennium, He had been bound by the wager and unable to intervene directly in Ryan.
Now that the wager had concluded, these Ryan citizens had committed countless atrocities under the influence of warped dogma, and the time had come for the Lord of the Dawn to deliver His judgment.
Although it came as a complete surprise, no one was foolish enough to defy the deity they worshipped. How would that differ from suicide?
Every wrongdoer immediately racked their memories for everything related to their dogma—how to atone for their transgressions, how to repent—desperately hoping to secure a sliver of hope.
As for deception... that was nothing more than self-delusion.
If the Lord of the Dawn wished to punish them, why would He need them to travel all the way to the capital? Every corner of Ryan was bathed in the Holy Light, making it child's play for the Lord of the Dawn to descend anywhere. Even if they hid in their own territories, did those lands not worship the Lord of the Dawn? Did they not have churches consecrated to Him?
The reason He had gathered them together before meting out punishment was that many of their sins did not warrant death.
Punishing the guilty required formal, public justice, with all relevant parties forced to witness the execution; otherwise, it would carry no deterrent value.
Repent, before the Holy Light that burns away sin descends.
Their choice was undeniably correct; the Lord of the Dawn embodied hope, not vengeance.
After several villains whose crimes were beyond counting were purified by the Holy Light, thirty-four of the forty-three councilors survived, though all received varying degrees of punishment.
Some were stripped of the Holy Light's power, some were pierced by blades, and others had their lifespans curtailed... A deity could take whatever He pleased from His worshippers and punish them in any manner He saw fit, a spectacle that made Anbaixiu deeply uncomfortable.
Fortunately, he was one of the faithless. Even if he ended up plastered onto the Wall of the Faithless in the future, it was still far better than being toyed with at the whim of the gods right now.
A grand ceremony concluded amidst the thundering wrath of the Lord of the Dawn, adding a profound sense of epic grandeur to the historical records.
It was especially surreal to watch a group of paladins and clerics of light being punished by the Lord of the Dawn, while the Rose of Decay, an undead creature, stood safely to the side enjoying the show. If one had not witnessed it with their own eyes, it would have seemed like sheer fantasy.
Yet the truth was just that ironic. In the Lord of the Dawn's judgment, the Rose of Decay, despite being a lich, received no punishment whatsoever. On the contrary, that glorious, righteous deity personally conveyed His apologies to her.
Everything had stemmed from the greed for power, extreme worship of ancestral glory, and human supremacism that had sprouted at some point along the way.
As for the Rose of Decay leading an undead army to lay siege to the Ryan Imperial Capital, in the Lord of the Dawn's eyes, it was an act of righteous vengeance. Ryan bore full responsibility.
After hearing all of this, Anbaixiu decided to update his assessment of the Lord of the Dawn.
With the Lord of the Dawn's might, crushing the Rose of Decay with a single finger would be effortless. Even if He didn't intervene personally, a mere command from Him would have ensured her death right then and there. The Blood of Lathander countered a lich's regenerative abilities perfectly, leaving her no escape.
Yet this deity had chosen not to do so, candidly acknowledging His faults instead.
He truly led by example when practicing His dogma. Anbaixiu's impression of the Lawful Good deities rose by another notch.
No wonder the evil gods were so numerous and individually stronger than those of the Lawful alignment, yet Lawful still held the upper hand across numerous planes.
The reason was simple: when the Lawful deities united, they truly united. They could watch each other's backs and cooperate without reservation. But the evil gods and demons could never do that. Their so-called cooperation amounted to nothing more than scheming against someone together, but when the time came to act, the first ones they had to guard against were their "allies."
This was what it meant for righteousness to prevail over evil.
When the Lord of the Dawn's holy light finally dissipated, the ceremony came to an absolute end.
Looking at the chaotic Ryan citizens, Anbaixiu could not help but chuckle. "I was worried about how Alan was going to handle these dozens of scheming councilors, but I forgot about the existence of the gods. From the looks of it, Ryan will recover soon, and it will likely emerge stronger than ever before."
The Rose of Decay did not cast a second glance at those "enemies." Taking Anbaixiu by the hand, she said, "Let's head back. This place sickens me."
Anbaixiu looked at the Rose of Decay with great anticipation, searching her face for any hint of emotional change.
He had gone through all the trouble of orchestrating this spectacle precisely to stir her emotions, hoping her soul might awaken from its numbness. The Lord of the Dawn's unexpected appearance had disrupted his plan, leaving him unsure whether it had produced any effect.
Yet to Anbaixiu's disappointment, the Rose of Decay shook her head at him.
"Everything from the past is like ripples upon the soul. Perhaps they surged violently for a moment just now, but they have already returned to stillness. I'm sorry to have let your efforts go to waste."
Hearing her words, Anbaixiu did not feel disheartened. He said calmly, "It doesn't matter. I have other methods; I just didn't want to resort to them until the very end. Don't worry. When I set out to save someone, no one can stop me—not even the Goddess of Fate."
The Rose of Decay smiled and took Anbaixiu by the arm, urging him, "Let's go, my knight. I've already contacted the President on your behalf, but this time, he seems to have anticipated that you would come looking for him."
Anbaixiu asked in bewilderment, "Oh? The President can divine the future too? Living a long life really is something—he knows everything."
"The President is far more than someone who has just lived a long time. Promise me, no matter what you wish to discuss with him, do not make an enemy of the Elegy Poetry Society. Not only has the President shown kindness to me, but every single member of the society has received his grace."
Anbaixiu reassured her, "Don't worry. Have you forgotten? I've received the President's grace as well. I've done plenty of wicked things in my life, but biting the hand that feeds me isn't one of them. As for doing business, my principle has always been mutual benefit and cooperation."
Chapter 595