Pirate Phantom
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Chapter 88: The Oracle
🕑 Added 2025-08-29 18:27:44 +0000 UTCSolar Calendar 999, March 2nd.
This was a very important day. Not because it was a holiday or festival, nor the birthday of some great figure. But the events of this day were destined to be recorded in history as something extraordinary: the long-silent Sun Gods finally descended with a new oracle.
Nearly five months had passed since the delayed Harvest Festival of 998. Now, at last, a new divine oracle was issued from Lordran, and delivered to the eleven pillar cathedrals of the continent.
There was no doubt about it.
At a time when the Radiant Church faced turmoil across the land and the corruption of Chaos was running rampant, this belated oracle was no less than a shot of adrenaline, injecting unimaginable vigor into the church.
Even the Noble Council, who had begun to stir with restless schemes after hearing rumors, immediately ceased their covert maneuvers.
The oracle itself did not differ greatly from those of previous years.
It praised the might and glory of the gods, lauded the great achievements of the fire-bearers, and extolled the pious devotion of the clergy. But at the end, it solemnly stressed that in order to defend the Will of Radiance, the clergy must, with absolute devotion, cleanse all filth and corruption that dared appear in the mortal world!
For the first time, the Sun Gods—who had always shown themselves as merciful and benevolent—revealed a side of majesty that was not to be offended.
And what was the result of this?
Mounted on her steed, clad in a black nun’s gown, a sister looked on as missionaries in Torrent City stood in the streets distributing flyers, shouting with fervor for the faithful to gather strength and prepare to purge the filth. The scene resembled the rallying cry of some extreme militant order before they marched to war.
The feeling was as though one stood beside the mouth of a volcano on the brink of eruption.
Because the main avenue was completely blocked, Miss Maria and her group were forced to take a detour on their way to the Luminous Cathedral. Were it not for the clear Sun-God insignias they bore, they might not have made it through the frighteningly dense throngs at all.
“…This is far too much excitement,” one Temple Knight muttered nervously, glancing back at the residential district they had just passed—now clogged and impassable, simply because a few clergy had called out to the crowd.
“Something feels wrong.”
Another Temple Knight, though pleased at the believers’ fervor, could not reconcile it with his training. The doctrine of the Sun Gods emphasized gentleness and generosity—clergy were taught to spread the light like the sun, nurturing all things, while also being ready to unleash its scorching wrath when the time called.
In simpler words: kindness and severity, hand in hand.
The knights’ hushed discussion did not escape Maria’s ears. The black-robed nun’s face remained serene, but inwardly she could not help but sigh.
The Radiant Church… it has come to this. This belated oracle is not a draught of vitality, but poison. And yet, the church has no choice. How domineering the gods are—when would they ever stoop to meet mortals eye to eye?
Whom the gods would destroy, they first drive mad.
During the closed-beta era, Solar Calendar 999—the year approaching the first millennium of the Sun Gods’ reign over the earth—the belated oracle was issued by Dark Sun Gwyndolin. Its purpose was to maintain the gods’ authority in the mortal world and prepare for unforeseen upheavals.
Yet under the guidance of this oracle, power within the Radiant Church swiftly fell into the hands of zealots.
“My sister, do you feel it as well?”
Spurring her horse forward to ride abreast of Maria, Sister Dolores, the Steel Nun, drew level with her. Clad in iron armor, she exuded the majesty of steel itself, though her mount looked utterly exhausted, barely able to bear her weight even after rigorous training.
“Mm?” Maria tilted her head slightly, the bangs on her forehead swaying gently with the rhythm of her horse’s trot.
“Those believers… gathered like that, they make me uneasy.”
Since her return to Torrent City, Dolores’ brow had been tightly furrowed, her spirit restless. Her gift gave her troubling premonitions: that the tide of fanaticism would inevitably end in consequences beyond control. Yet the Steel Nun, accustomed to speaking through the swing of her axe, did not know how to voice her concern.
What was she supposed to do, drag a believer out into the street and beat him down to prove her point?
“Unyielding faith will be repaid with results.” Murmuring the Sacred Scripture, Maria’s shimmering crimson eyes lingered on her sister’s uneasy face.
Keenly observant, Maria had already noticed her companion’s disquiet. One had to admit, some people might look like reckless brutes—charging forward heedlessly—but they often possessed astonishing intuition, piercing to the heart of matters that even the clever overlooked.
“…Hah.”
In a rare display, the Steel Nun let out a sigh, almost like air escaping from a punctured bellows. She spoke no more, only urging her horse ahead at greater speed.
Before long, the magnificent Luminous Cathedral came into view, its bell tower spire clearly visible. Splendid and grand, its snow-white facade gleamed beneath the blazing sun, radiant as though it had been carried whole from divine Lordran itself. At the first sight of its glorious form, every heart could not help but feel a wash of purification.
“Wow…!”
In the carriage, Felia’s pupils reflected the grandeur of the cathedral, and she could not hold back her cry of amazement.
But the next instant—!
The vision of the cathedral was abruptly replaced by a grotesque face leaping into view. Felia screamed, tumbling to the carriage floor. The sudden prankster, Gehrman, burst into hearty laughter that rang out like the mischievous cackle of a child proud of his successful prank.
“Gehrman!!”
Felia’s furious roar rang from the carriage as she flung open the window, snatching up a fruit and hurling it with all her strength at his head.
“At your service, little bean-sprout~~” With a flourish, Gehrman snatched the apple into his round hat mid-turn, bowing in an exaggeratedly gallant gesture.
“I’m Felia, not bean-sprout! Call me Miss Felia!” Her angry little face reappeared in the window as she tried to glare him to death.
“Ah, ah—when you’ve grown to look a bit more like your sister, then maybe,” he replied shamelessly, stone-faced as though his hide were thicker than a fortress wall. Pulling the apple from his hat, he plopped it back on and crunched into the fruit with relish.
The Foreigner always found it far too easy to rile up Felia—because he loved comparing her to his beautiful apprentice.
Crunch!
Biting into the juicy, sweet apple, Gehrman’s gaze wandered lazily toward the radiant cathedral.
So… one of the eleven pillars of the Church, eh? Interesting.
