Zac took a deep breath as he emerged from the hell of his own making. He’d hoped the Pilgrimage of Heart would resemble the trial he overcame to get his hands on the Shard of Creation and the [Boundless Vajra Sublimation]. Facing a superior path would be even better, as his Void State was excellent at rebuffing that kind of influence.
In reality, the Pilgrimage of Heart was a lot closer to the tribulation he overcame when reaching E-grade. He’d been forced to face the victims of his path, and there were a lot of them. A sea of anguished souls had forced him to witness futures that would never be because of his bloodthirst. Each family torn apart and dream cut short became a fetter, making his steps heavier.
Zac knew that his bloody path was born out of necessity and survival, not savagery or bloodlust. And the rough road to his current level had nurtured a far stronger Dao Heart than those who grew in the shade. However, the pilgrimage had turned what should have been a strength into a weakness, twisting and amplifying his deeds. It had almost been enough to push him over the edge.
The stele’s energy had almost faded. Its aura left him with nothing but an indication he’d passed with less than ten minutes to spare—not even close to getting a spot on the stele. Zac had realized the Pilgrimage of Heart would pose a challenge after the combat trial, but to think it was this bad. Maybe he’d become arrogant after the surprisingly good showing in the Pilgrimage of Mind, where he actually seized the 34th spot.
Finishing with ten minutes left of a whole day was undeniably a disappointment after reaching this point. It would drag down his grade, reducing the rewards he’d secured after passing four trials. But like the previous pilgrimages, passing came with some benefits. The trial had almost done him in, which would have resulted in death or insanity. But it also helped him process the carnage he’d been forced to participate in since the war began.
A trial wouldn’t miraculously fix the accumulated mental toll, but it had helped him expose some spiritual cracks and begin the healing. It was possible those wounds would have slowly recovered on their own after the war. They could also have been left to fester until they turned into Heart Demons or weaknesses to be exploited by the remnants or Heart Cultivators.
The experience had left him unraveled in a way a few minutes of rest couldn’t fix—not what Zac had hoped for with the final trial right around the corner. As expected, there was still no exit provided after the fourth trial.
“Hello?” Zac shouted. “Can I come out? I’ve passed four like you said.”
The Eternal Servant didn’t respond, and Zac turned to the final door and the uncertainty it represented; faith. How was faith tested? He tried picturing replacing faith with the resources in the other trials. He would die if the Pilgrimage of Faith were anything like the Pilgrimages of Heart and Combat. The Pilgrimage of Mind, where he used Mental Energy and his Daos to lead a group of refugees through a snowstorm, was iffy.
He wouldn’t be able to progress, and his protectees would have died. But with his other advantages, he could survive and run out the clock. It was the same with the Pilgrimage of Body. He could have stayed by the fountain or in a side passage until the wraiths drained the elixir, and he failed.
The odds of passing a Pilgrimage of Faith were essentially nil unless there was a huge loophole in the trial. It definitely wasn’t worth gambling his life on such a long shot.
“I concede! Please teleport me out,” Zac tried again.
Still nothing. Zac refused to give up on giving up. The waiting room wouldn’t last much longer. Maybe he’d be sent out after the timer ran out.
Minutes passed, and the surroundings grew increasingly unstable. Just as Zac thought he’d succeeded, the runes lining the trial gate lit up, unleashing radiant waves of faith-attuned light. Zac swore and grabbed onto the ground as the light formed hundreds of appendages dragging him toward the trial. Resistance proved futile.
Zac sighed in defeat as he took in the new environment. He couldn’t see the trial stele, but he was obviously not back in the Halls of Service. He’d been sent to a grand corridor exuding an air of profound dignity, where every inch of floor, walls, and ceiling had been lovingly formed by master artisans. Every few meters had a niche on either side, displaying relics radiating undying glory.
Together with the dense Faith Energy, the hall gave off an intensely sacrosanct aura. Even Zac, who didn’t share in the common belief of the Limitless Empire or their templars, was swept up in the atmosphere. It truly felt like he’d embarked on a holy pilgrimage, and he was beset by an incredibly strong compulsion to walk down the corridor toward the gates waiting at the other side. Zac only barely managed to resist the coercion to look behind him.
Not an exit. The corridor just stretched toward infinity, and Zac couldn’t even will his body to turn around. His exhausted Dao Heart was already fraying from resisting the pull, and Zac eventually had no choice but to take one reluctant step after another. Only when he reached the first alcove did the pressure relent.
The enshrined relic was an azure-blue sword snapped right above the hilt. The engraved array lining the alcove flickered, and a solemn voice spoke in Zac’s mind.
‘The sword of Her Holiness Eleani Ano, Cardinal of the Twenty-fourth chapter. Her holiness embraced the Origin in the year 133,305 of the Fourth Trigram Order. Her sacrifice saved the lives of 3,847,318,324,521 citizens of the Rosini Colony.’
Zac’s vision shifted, and he was almost overwhelmed by terror as he found himself facing a sea of flying beasts. Paradoxically, it was their overwhelming aura that quickly helped Zac calm down. After all, this swarm couldn’t possibly be the trial he was supposed to face. A beast tide this size could probably devastate all of Zecia if given enough time.
The swarm almost seemed endless, filled with too many Beast Kings to count. There were also hundreds of Beast Emperors, each larger than a city. Massive armies of smaller descendants accompanied the larger beasts, some of them even clinging to their bodies.
Their goal was evident—they might look like reptilian birds imbued with the Dao of Space, but they acted like locusts. Drained shards of over a hundred D-grade planets drifted in the distance, an appetizer before the swarm set its sights on the main course. Zac turned around, seeing a massive continent stretching as far as Zac could see.
A sole guardian floated at its edge—a human templar, holding a whole version of the broken sword he’d just seen. One moment, she felt like a mortal lost in space. The next, she was the embodiment of Heavenly Judgment, her aura reducing millions of beasts to dust. Zac had only seen such a display of power once before; when he escaped the Orom World and encountered Iz’s guardian.
Beast Kings died by the millions as the templar unleashed a one-woman crusade against the swarm. Each of her attacks had the power to destroy Earth, yet it was barely enough to make a dent in the sea of beasts. The templar didn’t relent, nor did she back down, and not a single beast made it onto the continent.
Days passed, and Zac couldn’t begin to compute the number of deaths he’d witnessed. However, even an Autarch would eventually run out of energy if put under a relentless and unending assault. The Cardinal was clearly reaching that point, with something having changed about her attacks. They contained a different aura, which made Zac think of attacks imbued with life force. If Zac had to guess, she was sacrificing pieces of her Inner World to keep attacking.
It would have been easy for her to escape. The beast tide was endless, but the strongest Beast Emperors were Middle Monarchs. Yet, like the ancient protector from Zac’s Dao Vision, Eleani Ano refused to abandon the trillions of lives behind her.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author’s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
An earth-shattering wail filled with turbulent Spatial Hunger shook the universe just as it looked like she might pull through. Enormous cracks tore toward the continent, and the templar’s waning aura grew erratic as she narrowly prevented the ambush from getting past her. Space buckled as three gargantuan birds emerged from hiding. Each was the size of a small D-grade world, and their auras had clearly surpassed the C-grade.
The swarm had been reduced to a third of its original size, and it looked like the true leaders couldn’t sit around any longer. Or perhaps they were happy to thin out their herd after it had grown too big, especially when it let them exhaust a dangerous enemy.
With such a difference in aura, Zac would have run for his life. He couldn’t see any path to victory when placing himself in the templar’s shoes. Of course, Zac knew that wasn’t how things would play out after hearing the introduction.
There was no joy or sorrow on Eleani’s face as she pointed her shimmering sword at the three incoming giants. A six-winged avatar even larger than the Primordial Beasts formed behind her, and it was like the gates to the Heavens had opened above the continent. Innumerable streams of prayer rose to the sky as a whole civilization prayed for salvation.
Faith and sacrifice gathered into a singular point at Eleani’s sword tip, and the cosmos dimmed before the destruction that was unleashed. The echo of a sword snapping echoed through the vacuum of space, followed by a heavy silence. The three giants were utterly annihilated, and only a few wayward beasts remained from the swarm.
It was a victory, but it cost everything. The templar was slowly disintegrating, breaking apart into motes of azure light. She had sacrificed her Life, Dao, and Soul, joining them with the world’s faith to wipe out the threat. Zac witnessed her final moments, entranced by the tranquil conviction of her gaze. The scene faded, and a woman’s voice echoed in the darkness.
‘The blood of the Empyrean Chalice feeds the flame.’
Zac was back in the hallway, facing the broken sword. The days of struggle had only taken a minute in real time. The pull urged him to keep going to the next relic, and he complied after bowing at the sword.
Not all scenes were as overwhelming as the Eleani’s final stand. A few of the relics had even belonged to Peak Hegemons, though Zac didn’t have a shred of confidence in taking any of them on. They were monsters through and through, one of them even slaying ten Monarchs before detonating his core to stop an evil ritual.
The enshrined saints had one thing in common. They had paid with their lives to create a miracle, saving uncountable lives and preventing deadly calamities. Just as shocking was that every single one of the interred templars belonged to the same chapter, and Zac recognized a third of them from the ladders. These amazing, terrifying people weren’t even the greatest martyrs of the Order of the Empyrean Chalice. They were just the local standouts.
Zac’s opinion of faith-based cultivators had always been strained. His first encounter with the concept was the Church of the Everlasting Dao, the body-snatching lunatics who’d caused mayhem during the Integration. Then there was the Great Redeemer, who used faith to form a Karmic link with his chosen. Not to mention Salvation, his crazed apostle. Even the Monks of the Sangha reeked of holy malevolence, hiding their ruthless schemes behind congenial smiles.
These templars felt different. They seemed like true guardians of civilization, no matter what Laondio’s ultimate goal was or what the Imperial Destiny entailed. Sure, the templar order would want to convey an image of righteousness, and this journey through history could be considered conditioning or even propaganda. Zac still felt the core of it was genuine and that these feats weren’t fabricated or embellished.
Eventually, Zac reached the end of the hallway where the golden door waited. The short walk had only taken an hour, but he’d spent weeks accompanying the saints on their final journey.
On each door was a large rune in the script of the Limitless Empire—’flame’ and ‘uphold.’ There was an unbelievable amount of meaning stored in those words, returning Zac to when he faced the Imperial Destiny in the Tribulation Throne. Whoever carved those runes must have been an Autarch, and a Faith-based cultivator could likely gain far more from them than Zac did from the wall in the Big Axe Coliseum.
The gates swung open on their own, and Zac almost stumbled back when a cascade of pent-up Faith Energy came pouring out. It was far beyond the hallway or what he’d faced in the Halls of Service, though it thankfully wasn’t weaponized against him. Even then, Zac had to safeguard his mind to avoid having his path led astray. The holy atmosphere might give him the final push to accept consecration after witnessing those feats of valor if he wasn’t careful.
“Hello?” Zac hesitated as he stepped inside. “Uh, Lady Instructor?”
The only response was the slam of the gates closing behind him. Zac looked to his left, finding a familiar face looking down at him. It was one of the saints he’d just seen, carved from a white stone with perfect detail. It almost felt alive because of the immense amounts of Faith Energy it held.
Perhaps it was. Zac could vaguely sense a hint of spirituality within, which was constantly being nourished by the room. Unfortunately, the high-grade materials and large amounts of energy coursing through the statue made it difficult to glean anything specific. Zac took a step closer before quickly moving away.
The energy inside the statue stirred from Zac’s proximity, exuding a minacious aura. It was like the fallen saint roused himself from his eternal rest to slay another enemy of the empire. Zac continued, relieved to see the statue calm down from the added distance. However, the hall was lined with similar statues, and another slumbering presence stirred when he moved into reach. It carried a similar forbidding threat, forcing Zac to keep going.
It didn’t take long to get a full scope of the inner sanctum. It was a catacomb of interred templars shaped like a T. There were only statues, and no graves. Maybe they had no choice, considering only a few of the saints left a body behind. The trial stele stood in the sole intersection. One hundred and eight candles were burning before it, one for each saint.
Apart from the 108 statues and the stele, the central crossing was also furnished with three oversized weapons. A scepter and a sword to his left and right, while a human-sized chalice had been placed at the place of honor behind the trial stele. They didn’t emit any spirituality like the statues, but Zac could tell they were anything but ornamental. If he had to guess, they were all powerful Peak D-grade weapons. The chalice might be something even greater.
Thankfully, they were inert, only giving Zac a vague sense of danger. The intersection also seemed to be a blind spot for the slumbering saints. The closest ones didn’t stir so long as Zac stayed within a few meters of the stele.
Taking in the stele’s aura finally imparted the rules for the Pilgrimage of Faith. Recognition. Zac needed to gain the blessing of at least one statue before the candles burned out. It didn’t sound very hard, but the saints were obviously very discerning. Even the top ladder holder had only gained sixteen blessings, and four was enough to get on the ladder.
Of course, none of that mattered to Zac. He might have common beliefs with most of the saints, and a few walked similar paths. However, he wasn’t a templar, and he had no Faith Energy to commune with the statues. More importantly, he had fully rejected the Imperial Fate of the Limitless Empire to create his own path, essentially marking him as an enemy of the faith.
His failure was already a given, let alone appearing on the ladder. Zac wasn’t too broken up about it. Just passing through the hallway had been an eye-opening experience that broadened his horizons.
More importantly, the trial held no danger so long as he stayed close to the stele. He just needed to withstand the ambient Faith Energy for a couple of hours before being sent out with a failing grade. Having passed the other four pilgrimages, he would be spared and even get some benefits. This was already the best-case scenario.
Zac was content standing next to the stele doing nothing. His Heart had already stabilized after the many visions, but he saw no point in rocking the boat. He could try some alternative methods to gain the acceptance of the D-grade saints just before the flames went out. All his items and abilities were unlocked, so he’d be able to endure a short time even if he triggered a violent rejection or awakened the weapons.
Half an hour passed. Zac had all but become the 109th statue in the catacombs. He kept his aura sealed, silently watching the candles while his other half discussed possible ways to gain a blessing with the others despite the overt antipathy from the interred spirits. Unsurprisingly, Esmeralda suggested stealing one by extracting the wisp of spirituality inside one of the statues.
Zac had no idea how he’d go about something like that or if the spiritual wisp was the actual blessing. Not to mention, desecrating a saint seemed like a good way to get ripped apart by the Eternal Servant upon his return. Ogras had a few ideas to trick the statues, like faking faith with an Aura Modulator. Ultimately, they agreed the best solution was to display his path to the statues Zac felt the most affinity with, hoping it would outweigh his lack of faith.
Their discussion was suddenly interrupted by a vague sense of foreboding. Zac flashed out of the way, feeling like a ghost had been breathing down his neck. He was almost right. A spiritual tendril had emerged from the closest statue, its aura almost indistinguishable from the ambient energy. It had just been a few inches from entering the back of his head.
Zac knew well enough to trust his instincts. The feeler didn’t appear dangerous and the statue appeared calm, but coming in contact with it was a very bad idea. That notion only grew stronger as the statues came alive, one by one releasing tendrils like they were searching for the interloper that previously eluded their grasp.
Trouble had come knocking.