Prologue: The Bell Tolling of Ill Omens

The bell in the bell tower resounded with a majestic tone, making the heavens tremble.

High above, the lofty ceiling bore stained glass depicting twin angels in a playful, caricature-like manner.

The dazzling sunlight illuminating the earth was sublimated through the holy stained glass into a serene and mystical glow, gently pouring into the dim chapel.

At the far end, in the inner sanctum, stood a magnificent altar.

Surrounding it were countless golden candelabras. Innumerable candles were lit, and the faint movement of air, like a breath, caused the ethereal interplay of light and shadow to flicker.

From below, echoing and striking the ears, came the melody of a pipe organ and the pure voices of a choir.

“Hallelujah” — the harmonious tones seemed to seep directly into the soul.

This was the Free City of Milano, at the Tirika-Falia Grand Cathedral, in the Seventh Chapel.

Before the altar at its heart, a lone man now stood.

“…‘Holy, holy, holy. All for the glory of God.’”

Facing the towering cross of the holy emblem at the altar, the man quietly offered a silent prayer as he chanted.

“‘All things are permissible, but not all things are beneficial. All things are permissible, but not all things build us up.’”

He chanted, as if to no one in particular.

It was a passage from the New Testament of Elizares — the very words of the Lord.

“‘Therefore, children of man, seek and honor the gain of others above your own. For—’”

Then, the man sharply flicked his frock coat and turned his back on the altar.

Pulling his tall hat lower, he quietly left the scene.

“‘This world, heaven and earth, all that fills them — they belong to God.’”

He concluded the scripture with those words.

A faint, cold smile played on his lips.

The man softly departed the chapel.

Bearing a certain sublime will, like that of a saint, radiating from his back, the man walked away.

Without looking back, he vanished —