SHK CH 761 (Patreon)

The nobles were initially confused when a slight delay was announced. Many people started wildly speculating. Some wondered if the wedding would continue, if the bride fled, or if the young prince finally realized how unreasonable marrying a witch was.

But less than an hour later, a few of them were disappointed to learn that the wedding would, in fact, resume.

Like this, they were gently ushered toward the main room of the chapel where the ceremony would take place.

In this chapel, people were not placed based on their social rank or hour of arrival but rather depending on how strong they were.

This was the fairest place. A place where your birthright determined nothing. A place where nobles and commoners, soldiers and peasants could all sit together. Not based on equality based on human rights, but an equality based on how much talent they were born with and how much effort they put in becoming stronger.

Unsurprisingly, most of the first row seats were occupied by the Dukes, then members of the military and nobles who lived on the frontier and had to constantly fight against invasion.

The nobles from the center were relatively weaker and sat further back. Though some nobles were dissatisfied with their sitting arrangement, they knew better than to complain at the moment.

“Everyone, stand up in honor of the closest to the Goddess, Camelia Castitas.” One nun's voice resonated in the tightly packed chapel, and all the attendants stood up in silence.

The door opened, and Camelia Castitas stepped into the chapel.

She wore a long white robe trimmed with gold, simple yet commanding. A soft veil framed her face, falling to her shoulders, while a modest mantle draped over her chest and back. The fabric carried faint embroidery of a phoenix, symbols of the Goddess’s light.

In her hands, she carried a slender staff capped with silver, more ritualistic than practical. This staff also helped her direct herself since she lost her eyesight.

The faint glow of divine energy radiating from her presence silenced even the most talkative nobles.

The attendees bowed their heads, not out of respect for the person but for the authority she represented, the will of the Goddess herself.

Though Camelia was a Blessed no more, something all of them could notice since she lost the characteristic Golden hair and Blue eyes, they knew that her authority in the church did not completely vanish.

Camelia walked down the central aisle without looking left or right, her expression calm, eyes fixed ahead toward the altar.

Each step echoed softly against the stone floor, a reminder that, for this moment, despite losing her King Rank power, her presence overshadowed all else.

The rustle of her robes was the only sound until she reached the altar and raised her staff lightly, signaling for everyone to sit.

Her gaze swept across the audience, sharp and unyielding. By losing her sight, she was able to see a world beyond everything the people here could ever hope to understand. She became enamored with this new world, and she wished to see the greatest light under the sun.

“Today is not simply the union of two souls. It is the binding of paths, the weaving of destiny under the eyes of the Goddess. Let all here bear witness.”

The crowd bowed again in silence. Some out of faith. Some out of fear.

Camelia turned toward the entrance of the chapel, lifting her staff.

“Bring forth the groom.”

The doors at the rear opened, and Sol, clad in his black robe, entered the room, a confident smile on his face.

His appearance was his normal self. No horns nor reptile-like eyes.

This was not because he rejected his dragon self. But rather because, as he was now, there was simply no difference between the two appearances.

As Sol stepped into the chapel, the air shifted.

A hush spread across the hall, deeper than any command could enforce. It wasn’t his robe, nor the smile he wore. It was the weight behind him, the pressure that rolled outward the moment he crossed the threshold.

The walls seemed to groan, the candles flickered wildly, and the weaker nobles instinctively stiffened, their bodies tightening as if held down by invisible chains. Some clutched at their seats, others forced their breathing steady, refusing to show weakness.

What emanated from him wasn’t killing intent, nor raw mana. It was something purer. A natural force, the instinctive dominance of a being who had long since surpassed the ordinary. Like a storm pressing on the ocean, his very existence carried weight.

Even without horns or scaled eyes, the dragon in him was undeniable.

The Dukes in the front row narrowed their eyes, but none dared shift their gaze away. Soldiers accustomed to the battlefield felt the same sensation they once felt facing armies, a pressure that crushed from all directions, unyielding and absolute.

Sol walked forward unhurriedly, his steps steady, his robe trailing behind him with quiet authority. The stone beneath his feet did not crack, yet every echo of his stride sounded heavier than it should, as if each step carried the weight of a kingdom.

For a brief moment, Camelia tilted her head in his direction. Though blind, she could sense him clearly. A faint, knowing smile tugged at her lips as she fought the urge to laugh.

She knew very well that at Sol's current level, had he truly unleashed his spiritual presence, all the problems in the chapel would die in an instant.

He was someone who slayed a God, albeit a very weakened one. Sol was also beyond trying to intimidate such weak people with his power. There was simply no need to.

What advantage would an elephant get by trying to intimidate an ant?

What was happening was simple and, for this reason was all the more hilarious.

{To think the mighty All-Seeing Lord is nervous. How cute.}

{Shut up.}

The two exchanged light banter without a change in their expression. But those words helped Sol calm down.

When Sol finally reached the altar, he stopped beside Camelia. His smile never faded, and his gaze swept the crowd.

Those who met his eyes, even for an instant, felt their spirits tremble. To them, it was not a man standing there. It was a sovereign beast in human skin, a dragon that chose to sit among mortals, but could remind them at any second what they truly faced.

What they did not know was that Sol truly did not want to frighten them. He had no need nor desire to do such a thing on his wedding day.

Like Camelia summarized, he was nervous. Extremely so.

When the wedding was delayed, Sol had broken down in cold sweat. Since he had intentionally stopped his dimension from observing Medea and her karma line, he did not know what was happening.

Was she getting second thoughts? Did she regret agreeing to stand with him before gods and men alike?

The thought gnawed at him, a rare crack in his otherwise unshakable composure. To him, facing armies or even deities was simpler than waiting for a single woman’s answer.

He swallowed down the unease and steadied his breath, but Camelia, standing right beside him, could feel it. The faint tremor in his aura, the restless shift that betrayed his restlessness.

A gentle smile formed on her face. She had been worried that Sol was becoming something she could no longer recognize. That he was slowly destroying himself to attain more power.

And this was indeed the case. As Sol’s power grew, his disposition changed.

Still, seeing him like this, she realized that the situation was not as bad as she once thought. At his core, Sol would always be the same.

All Sol needed was Love.

Truly, the Concept of Love might be the strongest in a way.

Camelia smirked faintly, lowering her staff. “The groom has arrived,” she declared, her voice clear and unyielding. “Now let the bride come forth.”

The great doors at the end of the chapel opened once more.

A light breeze stirred through the room, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers, sharp against the heavy incense that had filled the air. The nobles craned their necks instinctively, silence rippling through the crowd as every pair of eyes fixed on the entrance.

The moment stretched. Even Sol, for all his restraint, felt his chest tighten as he turned his gaze toward the open doors.

Then—Medea appeared.