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Chapter 73
The Children of the Holy City
The news spread across the world like wildfire carried by a storm wind.
A Holy Apostle had awakened.
And not just any apostle.
It was the Second Prince of the Ether Empire—the prince who had been known across the continent as a sickly child who could barely leave his bed.
The same prince who was once whispered about in noble courts as "the dying prince."
Now that very same boy had awakened as the Holy Apostle of the Goddess of Light.
Across kingdoms, cities, temples, and marketplaces, people spoke of nothing else. Messengers on swift horses carried scrolls sealed with glowing wax that shimmered like captured starlight. In bustling town squares, bards tuned their lutes and sang new songs under lantern light. Farmers paused in golden fields, children stopped their games, and old grandmothers leaned closer to hear the tale again.
In the great capital of the Ether Empire, nobles gathered in quiet chambers behind closed doors, their voices low with suspicion. Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings, casting soft rainbow sparks across polished tables.
"A Holy Apostle… in the imperial family?"
"Such power could shift the balance of the entire continent."
Some nobles felt fear, their faces pale in the gentle light. Some felt jealousy, fingers tightening around wine goblets. Others felt anger, muttering about old rivalries that might now crumble.
In distant kingdoms, kings and dukes stared at the reports with narrowed eyes. They sat in throne rooms where ancient tapestries fluttered in the breeze from open windows, showing dragons and saints from long-ago tales. A Holy Apostle was not just a religious title. It was a living symbol of divine authority. And when that symbol stood beside the Dragon Bloodline of the Ether Empire, it became something far more dangerous. Something capable of shaking the world.
Meanwhile, in the temples of the Church, priests knelt on cool stone floors and prayed with tears in their eyes. Soft white candles flickered around statues of the Goddess, filling the air with the sweet scent of incense.
"The Goddess has finally chosen her messenger."
Across the Holy City, people whispered the same words again and again, their voices full of wonder as they walked under the evening sky.
"The Holy Apostle has awakened."
But while the entire world was drowning in rumors, fear, faith, and chaos…
Alex was doing something completely different.
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The streets of the Holy City were quiet under the soft glow of evening lanterns. Tall white buildings carved from sacred marble lined the streets like silent guardians, their surfaces smooth and warm to the touch even as the sun dipped low. Crystal lamps hung from golden chains, swaying gently and casting a warm light that made the stone roads glow softly like moonlit rivers. The air carried the faint, sweet smell of night-blooming flowers from hidden gardens.
Priests walked quietly through the streets, whispering prayers that rose like soft music. Merchants closed their shops with gentle clicks of wooden shutters, smiling as they headed home. And above everything, the towering cathedral rose toward the sky like a mountain of white stone and shining glass, its spires catching the last rays of sunset and turning them into golden sparkles.
Yet Alex walked away from all of that.
Away from the cathedral.
Away from the palace.
Toward a much poorer district of the city.
Max and Leon walked beside him, their footsteps echoing softly along the narrow stone streets. The path grew simpler here—fewer lanterns, more shadows—but Alex's steps stayed steady and sure. He had seen enough grand halls and cheering crowds for one day. Right now, his heart pulled him toward something smaller, something that truly mattered.
After a while, they stopped before an old building surrounded by cracked walls and rusted iron gates.
An orphanage.
Once, it had been funded by the Church and filled with laughter and care. But under the rule of Archbishop Valthor, it had slowly become something darker. Corrupt. Cruel. A place where forgotten children struggled just to survive.
Alex quietly pushed open the iron gate. It creaked loudly, like an old sigh.
Inside the courtyard, the sight immediately made his eyes grow cold.
Small children—some barely eight or nine years old—were carrying heavy wooden baskets filled with laundry and sacks of grain. Their little shoulders bent under the weight. Their clothes were old and worn, patched many times over. Some looked thin from hunger, their cheeks hollow in the fading light. Standing nearby was a large, fat caretaker yelling at them, his voice harsh and sharp.
"Move faster!"
"Lazy brats!"
"Do you want to starve tonight?!"
"Huh…"
Alex's eyes darkened. His blood began to boil. These children were far too young to be working like this. They should have been playing in the courtyard, laughing under the crystal lamps, learning simple songs or drawing pictures in the dirt—not being treated like slaves in the shadow of the holy city.
He slowly turned to Max.
"Max."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Go beat him."
Max blinked once. Then he nodded. Without hesitation, he walked forward.
A moment later—
THUD!
The caretaker was thrown to the ground. Max grabbed him by the collar and started punching him again and again.
"You think you can treat children like this?" Max growled.
The caretaker screamed desperately.
"Stop! Stop!"
"Do you know who I work for?!"
"Archbishop Valthor owns this orphanage!"
Max punched him again.
"I don't care."
Meanwhile, Alex ignored the noise behind him.
He calmly walked into the building.
Inside the orphanage, the air smelled faintly of old wood and simple food. The walls were cracked, and the floors were worn smooth by many small feet. But the place was clean. Someone had clearly tried to take care of it despite everything—sweeping the corners, folding blankets with care, keeping the sadness at bay as best they could.
As Alex walked down the hallway, he heard quiet voices from one of the rooms. Children talking softly, like little birds sharing secrets. He stopped in front of the door, then gently pushed it open.
Inside the small room stood a young girl. She was about ten years old, with long silver hair tied loosely behind her head. Her clothes were simple but neatly cleaned. She was helping a small boy fold old clothes into a basket. The boy looked about seven years old, his eyes bright but tired.
The girl noticed Alex immediately. Her eyes widened slightly. But she did not look afraid. Instead, she stepped slightly in front of the boy—protecting him with her small body.
Alex slowly walked closer. Then he spoke calmly.
"Aurelia."
The girl froze.
"And your brother…"
"Lior."
Both children stared at him in shock.
Alex continued.
"From now on, both of you will stay with me."
"I have adopted you."
"So pack your things."
"Let's go."
The girl remained silent for a moment. Then she shook her head.
"I'm sorry."
Her voice was soft but firm.
"I cannot go with you."
Alex blinked.
"Why?"
The girl looked around the room, her silver hair catching the soft light from a single lantern.
"There are many other children in this orphanage."
"They are younger than me."
"I am their eldest sister."
"If I leave…"
"Who will take care of them?"
Her eyes grew sad.
"They will starve."
For a moment, Alex simply looked at her.
Then slowly…
A smile appeared on his face.
He was genuinely surprised. But also… impressed.
This girl had a heart far stronger than many nobles and knights. She is pure. This child truly deserves to become the Apostle of a Goddess.
Alex spoke again.
"You and your brother will come with me."
"I am a prince."
"And I promise you this."
"I, Alex of the Ether Empire…"
"…will personally take responsibility for this orphanage."
"From today onward, every child here will eat three meals every day."
"They will have proper clothes."
"They will receive education."
"And no one will ever force them to work again."
The girl stared at him in disbelief.
"…Really?"
"Yes."
"If you promise…" she said slowly, "…then my brother and I will come with you."
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A short time later, Alex stepped outside the orphanage.
A priest from the cathedral hurried over, robes fluttering in the evening breeze.
Alex looked at him coldly.
"From today onward…"
"This orphanage is under my protection."
"You will personally supervise it."
"If anything happens to these children…"
His eyes turned icy.
"…no one will be spared."
The priest immediately bowed deeply.
"Yes, Your Highness!"
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A little later, Aurelia walked out holding Lior's hand. Both of them carried small bags. Their entire lives… packed inside a few pieces of cloth.
They climbed into the carriage with Alex.
The carriage wheels began turning slowly, leaving the orphanage behind. The crystal lamps along the street glowed warmer now, as if the city itself felt a little lighter.
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Later that evening, Alex sat inside a quiet chamber of the cathedral. Golden candlelight flickered softly across the stone walls, painting gentle shadows that danced like friendly spirits. Outside, the bells of the Holy City rang gently, their soft chimes carrying hope into the night.
Suddenly, a messenger entered the room and bowed.
"Sir Alex."
"The two Archbishops have arrived according to your instructions."
Alex slowly stood up.
His expression became calm.
Serious.
"Well…"
"It's time."
He began walking toward the great hall.
"It's time to make them turn over a new leaf."
The cleansing of the Holy City had only just begun.
And Alex intended to change everything.
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