Chapter 31

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Chapter 31: Title

Augustus’s grandfather gently ruffled the boy’s hair. This great-grandson had always held a special place in his heart—why else would he have bestowed the ancestral pendant upon a mere infant all those years ago?

"Very well, I shall recount the tale once more," the elder conceded.

"Let us stroll by the lake," Augustus suggested, maneuvering the wheelchair toward the manor’s artificial lake.

His grandfather chuckled. "Your gratitude warms this old heart."

The former patriarch of the Horman family, now retired for decades, resided in this therapeutic estate attended by maids and frequent visitors. Though frailty confined him to the wheelchair, his eyes still held the keenness that once commanded respect across France’s oldest noble lineage—a family whose documented history spanned nearly a thousand years.

The pendant around Augustus’s neck carried seven centuries of legacy, originally worn by Horman I himself. While now merely a symbolic relic of the Augustus bloodline unrelated to succession, the youth had grown up hearing fragmented tales of its origins—stories his childhood self absorbed with wide-eyed wonder before adulthood blurred the details.

He treated the heirloom as a token of his grandfather’s affection, offering occasional half-hearted prayers to its metallic surface. Never disrespectful, yet never truly believing.

The elder’s aged fingers traced the pendant’s contours as memories surfaced like ancient parchment. "Horman I forged our dynasty here in France," he began, voice weaving through time. "Before his era, we were but nameless villagers. Through royal service and…" here his tone lowered, "…less earthly battles as the Church’s holy light knight against infernal forces, he elevated our name. This pendant remains among his finest crafted relics."

Augustus memorized each syllable, though the artifact had lain dormant since that inexplicable night. Part of him still questioned whether moonlight had tricked his senses.

When the tale concluded, the old man peered knowingly at his descendant. "Come now—this sudden interest isn’t mere fancy. Out with it."

"Could there be… more to the pendant?" Augustus ventured.

"Magic?" The grandfather’s laugh rasped like autumn leaves. "At your fifth birthday, you vowed to become a holy light knight. Look at you now—scarcely embodying their eight virtues!"

Indeed, the young scion’s reputation leaned more toward Casanova than chivalry. Women flocked to his title like moths to flame, his "romantic exploits" tolerated as noble eccentricity.

The Eight Virtues of Holy Light Knights:

*Humility:* Their courtesy transcends status, honoring peasant and princess alike with equal grace.

*Honor:* A knight’s lifeblood, purchased through any sacrifice.

*Sacrifice:* The courage to become the scaffold for greater good.

*Valor:* Unflinching protector of the weak, bane of evil’s cowardice.

*Compassion:* Mercy tempers their steel, justice guides their hand.

*Piety:* Every breath a hymn, every deed an offering to the Divine.

Honesty: A commendable virtue, an essential quality every knight must embody.

Justice: Impartial and law-abiding, no virtue surpasses justice. Even towards enemies, fairness must prevail.

Augustus recalled these knightly virtues and found himself at a loss—it seemed none aligned with his current state.

*Surely I’m not that deficient?*

Though his grandfather’s remark had been offhand, Augustus dwelled on it. His fingers absently closed around the pendant against his chest. Its persistent silence gnawed at him—had he failed to meet its criteria?

"Grandfather, surely I’m not entirely lacking?"

"Eh? Still denying it?" The old man’s laughter boomed. Sensing Augustus’ discomfort, he pivoted: "Your elder brother hasn’t brought little Ophe to visit. Remind him when you can."

"Understood."

……

After breakfasting with his grandfather, Augustus departed. In the car’s rear seat, he unclasped the pendant, its weight familiar in his palm.

"Returning to the estate, Young Master?" inquired the driver.

"My private villa." He replied tersely. Home meant inevitable lectures from his father, while the villa offered sanctuary.

Though most had slept through the pre-dawn anomaly, night owls captured footage now flooding the internet. By seven, every influential figure had been briefed.

Alone in his locked bedroom, Augustus studied the inert pendant.

"Why did it awaken that night, not now?" His murmur summoned the ghost’s haunting words:

*Holy light.*

"If myth holds true—if holy light coalesces from belief’s essence—then that night’s transformation…" His thumb traced the pendant’s edges. "Was my faith insufficient?"

The new Bible’s spine cracked open. Since witnessing the miracle, he’d pursued activation methods yet neglected simple prayer—the very practice he’d once maintained.

"Our Heavenly Father, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as in heaven…" His whisper gained fervor. "…Creator of all, Redeemer of souls, Judge of nations, who bathes us in sacred light…"

Warmth suffused him mid-prayer. The pendant glimmered faintly, its light dissolving inward until nothing remained visible.

"Again?" He stared at the dormant artifact. "The prayer triggered it?"

Early hours permitted repetition, but a ringing phone shattered the moment.

"Ize?"

"The dawn phenomenon? The pendant… Yes, I’ve made progress. We’ll discuss in person."

No one crossed Augustus lightly—not with England’s sole recognized witch, France’s equivalent, and his family’s shadowed influence. Global elites understood: antagonizing potential future pillars served no one.

*

Japan

Zhongxia’s nearest temporal neighbor reacted with characteristic efficiency. Within moments of the divine manifestation, both Prime Minister and Emperor converged on the site.

Ise Grand Shrine had evacuated all visiting tourists, leaving only the shamans and priestesses within its sacred grounds. They stood before the Emperor and Prime Minister, both leaders doing their utmost to remain composed.

"Has Amaterasu truly manifested?"

In Japanese mythology, the Sun Goddess Amaterasu reigns supreme among deities. Though Japan may seem small compared to neighboring nations, its mythological claims have always been grandiose – boasting eight million gods despite historical skepticism, much like empty vessels making the most noise.

This paralleled Zhongxia’s other neighbor, Simida, notorious for cultural appropriation and shamelessly petitioning UNESCO for others’ heritage.

As adjacent nations, Zhongxia bore the brunt of these transgressions. Had it not been for diplomatic restraint, those provocations might have warranted retaliatory "Eastern Express" deliveries to achieve celestial company with the sun.

"Prime Minister, Your Majesty."

"Indeed, Amaterasu manifested moments ago. Seated upon Takamagahara’s Divine Throne, her visage differed slightly from legends, yet bore unmistakable resemblance."

"What divine edict did she impart?" The Prime Minister and Emperor exchanged glances, their reverence deepening.

Recent supernatural events across Japan left little room for skepticism. With spectral entities already roaming their lands, divine intervention seemed almost inevitable.

"Amaterasu commands the eradication of all wandering spirits across Japan," declared the chief shaman of Ise Grand Shrine, his authority surpassed only by the nation’s leaders.

"Splendid! Ensure complete annihilation of those abominations," the Prime Minister exclaimed, relief washing over features hardened by prolonged frustration. Previous appeals to the United States had yielded only mockery before begrudging military support – Pacific cruisers patrolling waters, limited troop access, and researchers more curious than helpful.

These measures proved futile against spirits impervious to conventional arms, while heavy weaponry remained politically untenable. Now, true deliverance beckoned. The Prime Minister’s smile tightened at recalling President Chua-T’s crass threat to redeploy "Little Boy" – that cursed legacy from Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The chief shaman sighed inwardly before continuing, "Yet Amaterasu provided no method for this purification."

"What? You remain powerless?" The Prime Minister’s jubilation curdled into fury.

"Communication through Ancient Ceremony remains possible. A divine festival could entreat her power," the shaman proposed.

The Prime Minister’s initial scoff died unvoiced. In this new paradigm where celestial beings walked among mortals and urban legends bred panic, public spectacle might prove unexpectedly pragmatic.

"Organize this festival immediately. Spare no expense for our supreme deity."

United States

White House

As daylight reigned elsewhere, President Chua-T abandoned his massage robe mid-donn ing, transfixed by unearthly radiance piercing the night beyond his balcony.

"How can it be so bright at this hour? There’s no aurora over America," Chua-T muttered, staring at his wristwatch with bewildered eyes. The radiance lingered just long enough – mere minutes – to confirm this was no ordinary illusion.

He strode briskly back to his quarters, phone already pressed to his ear. "Natural phenomenon or something else?" he demanded of his secretary before the call connected properly. The reply came swift: "Investigating immediately."

Fingers flying across his phone screen, Chua-T plunged into the digital storm. Global newsfeeds exploded with reports of the worldwide anomaly, timelines updating faster than reality itself. His brow furrowed deeper with each refresh.

"Deities in Japan? Since when?"

"Zhongxia too? And prophets??!"

"Vatican City manifesting heaven? Since when does Italy get celestial endorsements?"

"Witches in England? Ghosts?"

"France hoarding paladins?"

Previous incidents had been contained – national embarrassments swept under rugs. But this… This was different. The Kingdom of England’s spectral debacle only went global because some fool authorized a multi-region livestream. As for Zhongxia’s so-called prophet, that Weibo post by Xiao Tianji now swarmed with foreign devotees labeling him oracle.

Chua-T’s palm struck mahogany. "Where’s our divine representation? America’s supposed supernatural arsenal?" The leather chair creaked as he collapsed into it. Then realization struck – their nation’s history stretched mere centuries across stolen lands. Any awakened deities would likely be vengeful ancestral spirits of the indigenous peoples.

The man mockingly called "Chua-T the Uncommon" by foreign tabloids suddenly wished for divine absence. Better no deities than hostile ones – especially compared to Yahweh’s reported benevolence, the Americas’ primal gods sounded like capricious evil gods.

No time for massages now. As he changed into crisis-management attire, his mind raced. While other nations flaunted miracles, America stood shockingly ordinary. The "world’s beacon" couldn’t afford to dim – not under his watch.

Vatican City

The Nine Sacred Mountains phantom materialized during the midnight liturgy. Pilgrims from across Blue Star knelt in the Holy City’s vast square, their murmured prayers harmonizing with the Pope’s amplified recitations.

When celestial peaks shimmered above St. Peter’s Basilica, the Holy Father faltered mid-verse. No hologram equipment had been commissioned – yet the vision’s grandeur surpassed any staged spectacle. The sacred text trembled in his hands as reality itself seemed to thin.

The Pope stood momentarily dazed, his words caught in a breath’s hesitation.

Though called a phantom, the Nine Sacred Mountains manifested with crystalline clarity before the awestruck congregation. These pilgrims who’d journeyed from distant lands to attend the holy rite now prostrated themselves, whispering fervent prayers to Yahweh through trembling lips.

Celestial beings moved within the sacred peaks with tangible presence – winged in snow-white splendor, robed in luminous garments. Elder angels tended fledgling ones whose tiny wings fluttered like dove feathers across the mountain slopes. The heavenly host gazed upon the mortals with benevolent curiosity, as if marveling at this unexpected communion between realms.

From the luminous mists emerged a golden-haired angel bearing a cross upon his breast, azure eyes sweeping across the kneeling masses. When those divine orbs met the Pope’s, the aged pontiff’s knees struck marble of their own accord.

Decades of devotion allowed no mistake – here stood Michael in living truth, the archangel and twelve-winged seraphim from scripture’s pages. Breath abandoned the Pope’s lungs. A true miracle, unfolding before his mortal eyes!

Though the celestial vision lasted mere moments, its brilliance burned away all notice of earthly reactions. As the mountains dissolved into light, the Pope rose with renewed vigor to proclaim God’s manifested wonder. The congregation’s fervor blazed brighter than midnight candles, hearts pounding with the privilege of witnesses.

Luminous residues from the fading miracle cascaded over the faithful, dissolving weariness from travel-weary bones. Even the Pope’s aging frame, strained by ceremonial prostrations, found unexpected relief – his persistent cough silenced by the holy light’s lingering touch.

When relieved by junior clergy, the pontiff retreated to his chambers only to receive urgent visitors. The arriving bishops’ purpose mirrored his own thoughts.

"This was no crafted sign," the Pope declared, fingertips still tingling with sacred energy. "The Lord Himself has spoken." His usual practice of stage-managed "miracles" shriveled before this authentic divine theater – where heaven needed no pyrotechnics, only truth’s radiant shadow.

"We concur about the vision," the lead bishop responded, "but bring graver tidings. Other lands report… manifestations. If deities walk abroad…"

The unspoken conclusion hung shimmering – history’s quill poised to record this papacy.

"Verify everything," the Pope commanded after contemplative silence. "But let no discord shake our foundations. The faithful must hold steadier than ever."

His finger tapped troubling reports – phenomena in skeptic nations, patterns defying coincidence. Then came the unexpected revelation:

"Phantoms haunt Florence’s streets," Bishop Guy confessed reluctantly. "Five nights now, they say."

"Why silence until now?"

"Who credits ghost stories in this age?" Guy countered bitterly, until hours earlier having counted himself among doubters.

The Pope’s decision came swift. "Dispatch investigators – thoroughly. Should spirits truly wander, they might bear heaven-sent messages."

"Send an entire company," he added, the mountain’s glow still dancing behind his eyelids. "When dealing with miracles, numbers become wisdom."

At six o’clock the next morning,

Vatican City, France, the Kingdom of England, and Fusang received calls from United States President Chua-T proposing a joint conference to address recent supernatural events.

The invited nations harbored silent complaints, recognizing Chua-T’s true motive – fearing formal rejection should he approach Zhongxia alone. Though reluctant, they found merit in his argument: Zhongxia’s capabilities remained enigmatic, potentially holding crucial intelligence. Reports indicated Zhongxia’s paranormal incidents predated others’, and the shadowy figure "Xiao Tianji" originated from their territory.

After deliberation, the nations jointly requested an online summit with Zhongxia’s leadership to exchange information. Of the four ancient civilizations, Zhongxia alone preserved an unbroken cultural lineage through millennia – a fact that bred both respect and wariness among modern states maintaining superficial alliances.

Bear country’s late inclusion raised few eyebrows. The United States, acknowledging their shared "miracle-deficient" status with Bear country, permitted their participation. Given Bear country’s diplomatic ties to Zhongxia, exclusion would prove futile regardless.

In Bear country’s presidential office, Putin massaged his temples while listening to his secretary’s report. "Still no progress at the containment site?"

"The protective suits merely delay dissolution," the secretary admitted. "Maximum penetration remains five meters."

The trivial distance offered little comfort. Putin clung to hope that tonight’s conference might yield solutions. If not…perhaps Vatican City’s influence over Yahweh-worshipping citizens could be leveraged. With native deities absent and materialism crumbling before supernatural forces, ideological flexibility became necessary.

Truthfully, Bear country’s cobbled-together mythology held scant appeal compared to foreign pantheons, its borrowed fragments long since discredited.

The encrypted A+ level conference commenced during Zhongxia’s afternoon. World leaders connected through secure channels, their wariness amplified by Xiao Tianji’s infamous breach of the Kingdom of England’s networks.

Initial exchanges catalogued domestic crises before expanding to global anomalies. When discussion turned to solutions, Zhongxia’s Commander dropped his bombshell:

"We propose full disclosure."

Shocked stares met his calm demeanor. He anticipated their fears – chaos, societal collapse. Yet Zhongxia’s calculus differed. Their nation already simmered with unrest; controlled conflagration might ultimately restore order.

The Special Bureau’s creation had initially stabilized society against spectral threats. Of registered spirits, one-third proved murderous entities disregarding human life. Crucially, the remaining majority – offered incentives – now aided in neutralizing these volatile "time bombs".

Even so, many soldiers sacrificed their lives initially. Ghosts were such unreasonable entities – after death, human emotions gradually fade, and once they’ve taken lives, they cease to regard the living as their own kind.

When extraordinary individuals emerged again that morning, it became clear these supernaturally gifted people faced no seven-day limitation like lingering spirits.

Zhongxia’s government wasn’t petty enough to shun extraordinary individuals. In this increasingly incomprehensible world where Special Bureau had already been established, more supernaturally gifted citizens hardly mattered.

Fundamentally, these extraordinary individuals remained Zhongxia’s people – fellow countrymen. When even ghosts received gentle persuasion and material rewards, human-born talents naturally deserved better treatment.

The recruitment process prioritized voluntary participation. Those unwilling merely needed registration before resuming normal lives, provided they obeyed national laws.

Law-breaking extraordinary individuals would face arrest without exception.

Malicious supernaturally gifted citizens could inflict unimaginable harm on society. The registration system essentially mirrored civilian Identity Card protocols.

Having records in national databases ensured traceability during crises, though some might consider this invasive.

But let us remember – even as Spiritual Energy Awakening makes extraordinary individuals commonplace, ordinary people still constitute society’s overwhelming majority.

Commoners facing knife-wielding criminals risk mortal danger; confronting hostile supernaturally gifted individuals would prove equally perilous.

The Special Bureau’s oversight currently maintained social stability and citizen safety. When crises erupted, it remained ordinary police and soldiers charging into the fray.

Any extraordinary individual with basic conscience should recognize the necessity of these arrangements. Cooperators gain priority resource allocation, while dissenters simply undergo registration, observation periods, and interviews before continuing their lives.

"Full disclosure is inevitable with global anomalies of this scale. Neither I nor any present colleagues could maintain secrecy."

"The masses aren’t fools," Commander declared emphatically.

Attendees sank into contemplative silence. All knew concealment would backfire spectacularly.

Disclosure brought both risks and benefits – no trivial decision.

The meeting temporarily adjourned, with only Vatican City and Japan providing immediate consent. Others required domestic consultations.

As a religious state, Vatican City stood to gain from transparency. Japan, already planning divine festivals, welcomed the chance to calm public anxiety through disclosure.

Commander pushed for synchronized global announcements to disperse international attention rather than concentrate scrutiny on Zhongxia.

Domestic extraordinary individuals would likely comply with Special Bureau policies. Among billions, some anti-government elements were statistically inevitable – their absence would be more remarkable.

Even rice from the same pot nourishes a hundred different constitutions.

The United States delegation’s visible agitation didn’t escape notice. Commander tapped the conference table, contemplating how Zhongxia’s intelligence might extract advanced technologies through this crisis, given Western embargoes still constrained crucial imports.

Failing to capitalize on this opportunity would insult years of endured exploitation.

When discussions resumed, all leaders prioritized swift resolutions for their awaiting propaganda departments.

Unsurprisingly, nations consented to disclosure conditional upon intelligence sharing.

Subsequent negotiations fell to aides rather than heads of state. Within seventy-two hours, mutually acceptable terms emerged.

Zhongxia faced the most vocal criticism while the United States grudgingly accepted the highest costs – naturally, given their premium position.

Zhongxia emerged as the undisputed victor, monetizing basic intelligence across multiple buyers through shrewd mercantile practices.

Three days later, the global revelation occurred.

Participating nations announced Spiritual Energy Awakening/Magic Return simultaneously at 7:00 AM local time, mirroring Zhongxia’s approach with continuous website promotions.

These coordinated announcements triggered phone meltdowns in leaders’ offices worldwide.

Cunningly, national portals featured prominent "Global Networks" buttons linking allied sites, driving cross-border traffic surges.

While websites mainly used native languages and English, translation widgets enabled universal comprehension.

International netizens noted remarkable content similarities except in "Extraordinary Profiles" sections.

Zhongxia’s citizens flooded the Spiritual Network, swiftly nicknaming their new digital haunt while fawning over attractive supernaturally gifted influencers.

Western users gravitated toward Kingdom of England and France portals, their "Magic Network" terminology echoing Eastern counterparts. Elf witches and holy light knights captivated imaginations more than Eastern aesthetics.

The interim period buzzed with supernatural developments:

Augustus received nocturnal visions after visiting France’s U·S anomaly department. A knight identifying as Horman I manifested in his dreams, bestowing ancestral legacy contingent on upholding Eight Virtues as holy light knight.

Japan witnessed an Onmyoji’s emergence – Abe Masanari, white fox bloodline successor to ancestor Abe no Seimei. His shikigami-summoning prowess destroyed a rampaging specter, earning comparisons to the legendary Heian-era mystic.

Three days pre-announcement at Abe family shrine:

Though "Night Parade of a Hundred Demons" mobile game revitalized interest in Onmyoji lore, modern Abe family could neither practice Yin-Yang Path nor assist spirit-plagued petitioners.

Morning anomalies stirred Abe Masanari’s curiosity, though subsequent calm and rumors of Amaterasu appearing at Ise Grand Shrine left him conflicted.

"Your clan’s decline since Abe no Seimei proves Yin-Yang Path’s extinction." A mellifluous yet mocking female voice pierced the shrine’s silence.

"Who’s there?!" Abe Masanari whirled around.