Kjeragandr would not perform miracles for a single individual.
This was common knowledge among all clergy.
As the Kjerag Saintess, Enya understood it better than anyone.
From the day she assumed her role until now, no matter how devoutly she prayed, how diligently she chanted and worshipped, Kjeragandr had never once responded to her.
Perhaps, in the eyes of that great deity, only terranity as a whole held meaning, while any single person was nothing more than a drop in the ocean, too insignificant to leave a trace across eternity.
Which meant the Sacred Stone Trial had always been a lie.
After ten minutes, the Sacred Stone would remain unchanged.
Its pale gray surface would stay just as it was, its cold shell no different than before.
It would show no divine power, convey no will.
But Enya knew that for the Grand Elder, that was more than enough.
Silence itself could be interpreted as an answer.
With his experience, the Grand Elder had a hundred ways to “interpret” a divine will that did not exist, and twist it into a verdict against Ernest.
And when that moment came, Ernest would face the worst possible outcome.
He could be flogged, exiled, hung upon a peak to freeze to death, imprisoned on a cliff to be picked apart by mountain beasts.
Kjerag had no formal penal code; how a “criminal” was punished depended entirely on the imagination of the one delivering judgment.
‘Only I can save him.’
Enya had never been this tense before.
She had never liked her position.
Being the Kjerag Saintess felt like a shackle, proof of Enciodes’ coldness.
Yet now, for the first time, she was grateful for it.
Because the Saintess held the final authority over any matter concerning Kjeragandr.
The Grand Elder might evade, deflect, or even attempt to deny her that authority—but only if she were absent or unaware.
Now, she stood here in person.
As long as she was present, the right to interpret the Sacred Stone’s “oracle” belonged to her.
If she chose to speak, even the Grand Elder could not stop her.
“Hang in there.”
A faint voice seemed to whisper by her ear.
Enya turned her head, but no one was there.
…Must be my nerves.
She steadied herself, forcing her thoughts into focus, and waited.
Below the Sacred Stone platform, Enciodes had also made his preparations.
He lowered his head, glancing at his wristwatch.
The hour hand was nearing nine.
The ten-minute waiting period was almost over.
If nothing unexpected occurred, the Sacred Stone would remain unchanged.
No divine gaze would descend upon this place.
The Grand Elder would step forward without delay, proclaim that he had received Kjeragandr’s revelation, and declare Ernest guilty.
At that moment, the plaza would erupt.
And chaos would follow.
Enciodes had already stationed the Tschäggättäs along the cliffs, concealed beneath snow.
The instant disorder broke out, they would charge in, suppressing the Paleroche guards.
Meanwhile, the Black Knight Degenbrecher, currently at his side as a bodyguard, would storm the platform, extract Ernest, and hand him off to Courier waiting below the mountain.
From there, Ernest would be escorted out of Kjerag.
The plan was simple.
And simplicity meant reliability.
The only variable was Ernest himself.
But Degenbrecher was no gentle soul.
If Ernest refused to cooperate, knocking him unconscious and carrying him out was entirely within the realm of possibility.
Enciodes had already authorized her to incapacitate him if necessary.
Now, all that remained was to wait.
At the foot of the Sacred Mountain,
Luther Magnus and Cliff, who lacked the authority to ascend and witness the trial, waited for the outcome.
Before the clock could strike nine, Cliff’s phone rang.
The old Sankta man gave Luther an apologetic glance, then took out his phone and answered.
“Yes?”
“Boss, this is Team Liskarm.
We’ve encountered a situation.” A sharp, composed female voice came through the receiver.
Cliff raised an eyebrow, switched his phone to speaker, and set it on the table in front of him.
“Go on.”
Liskarm’s voice came through clearly.
“Our team has identified a large number of armed personnel lying in ambush along the cliffs of Mount Karlan.
Rough estimate, close to a hundred.
They’ve already surrounded the Sacred Stone Plaza.
What are our orders?”
“Armed personnel?” Luther Magnus clicked his tongue and glanced at Cliff.
“Looks like we’re not the only ones planning to make a move during this trial.”
Cliff smiled faintly and replied, “Ignore them.
Priority is the safety of the target.
Under no circumstances is the target to be endangered.
Everything else is irrelevant.”
“Understood.” Liskarm answered, then cut the connection.
Only then did Cliff turn back to Luther.
“No need to worry.
You can trust my people’s professionalism.”
“Prime Minister Ernest will be perfectly safe.
He’ll remain right where he is without incident.
You don’t need to concern yourself with anything else.”
He paused briefly, then added, “After all, you chose Blacksteel International.”
“Of course.” Luther nodded in satisfaction, watching as the hour hand slowly crept toward nine.
On the Sacred Stone Plaza, after silently counting to six hundred in his mind, the Grand Elder suddenly opened his eyes.
He turned to look at the Sacred Stone of Kjeragandr.
Just as he had expected, the white monolith stood motionless atop the mountain.
It neither glowed nor warmed, neither levitated nor shattered.
No miracle had occurred.
A mocking gaze fell upon Ernest, who stood upright and composed.
The look in the Grand Elder’s eyes seemed to say: See?
Everything is under my control.
You claim innocence, claim to act for the future of all Kjerag, yet why does Kjeragandr show no concern for your fate, offering no sign, no revelation?
He waited, almost eagerly, to see a flicker of regret or fear on Ernest’s face.
But to his disappointment, Ernest did not even spare him a glance.
Instead, he fixed his eyes calmly and firmly on the Sacred Stone, a faint, inexplicable smile curling at his lips.
You can still smile?
The Grand Elder’s irritation flared once more.
With a cold snort, he stepped forward, preparing to take his place before the Sacred Stone and deliver his “divine verdict.”
But in the next instant, a silver-gray figure moved past him, stepping into position before he could.
“The Saintess?” The Grand Elder stared at the girl standing before the Sacred Stone, his mind going blank as a dreadful realization surfaced.
Wait… she can’t be—
He hurried forward, trying to stop Enya before she could speak, but her gentle yet resolute voice had already echoed across the entire plaza.
“The ten minutes have passed.
The merciful Lord Kjeragandr has rendered judgment.”
“The Sacred Stone, pure and flawless as the holy mountain itself, has reflected the heart of Ernest Silverash.
Its surface bears no stain of darkness or corruption. Get faster updates on g.com.
This proves Ernest Silverash’s innocence.
Kjeragandr has blessed His child and restored to him his most precious purity.”
Her voice rang through the mountains, and an eerie silence fell over the entire plaza.
The crowd was stunned.
They could not comprehend how Ernest, who had just moments ago been all but branded a criminal by the Grand Elder, had suddenly received Kjeragandr’s absolution.
Yet none dared to question it.
Even if Enya Silverash was Ernest’s sister, she was also the Saintess of Karlan, the one who served Kjeragandr.
She should not, and would not dare to lie.
To deceive, to twist divine will, was a grave taboo—one that would invite divine punishment.
Enciodes was equally shocked.
He had never expected Enya to step forward at such a moment, in such a place, to speak on Ernest’s behalf, even going so far as to fabricate Kjeragandr’s will and declare him innocent.
Of course he knew it was fabricated.
The Sacred Stone had shown no change whatsoever.
Both she and the Grand Elder were, in essence, speaking falsehoods with open eyes.
But… how dared she?
Since when had his younger sister possessed such courage?
Beside him, the Black Knight Degenbrecher lowered her head slightly, casting him a questioning glance that seemed to say: The plan’s disrupted.
Do I still move?
Enciodes’ expression shifted several times before he clenched his jaw.
His right hand relaxed, then pressed downward in a subtle gesture.
The meaning was clear.
The plan was suspended, but not canceled.
His instincts told him the Grand Elder would not let this go so easily.
And on the platform, the Grand Elder stood frozen, caught between shock and fury, unable to advance or retreat.
His earlier words had already all but nailed the charges of treason and guilt onto Ernest.
He had laid the groundwork so meticulously for this very moment, to deliver a decisive guilty verdict, to intimidate the reformists and elevate his own authority as the head of the Vine-Bead Court.
And now, with a single sentence from Enya, everything had been thrown into disarray.
He had already been pushed onto the fire.
If Ernest were declared innocent, then once the trial ended and he found legitimate grounds, how could he possibly let him off?
And even if he did, what then?
After all the impassioned rhetoric he had just delivered, after stirring the crowd so fervently, only to have everything overturned by a single sentence… wouldn’t all of it make him look like a complete fool?
What authority would he, as Grand Elder, have left?
This was no longer a matter of petty defiance.
Enya’s actions had become a direct threat to both his political standing and his very life.
How could he possibly yield and wait for death?
A flash of vicious intent flickered in the Grand Elder’s eyes.
Enya had only been Saintess for a little over a decade, while he had held the position of Grand Elder for decades.
What kind of people had he not dealt with?
What kind of Saintess had he not subdued?
Within the Vine-Bead Court, atop this mountain, who truly held power?
The Saintess… or the Grand Elder?
If you dare stab me in the back, then be ready for mutual destruction.
Before the crowd below could even react, the Grand Elder stepped forward and seized Enya by the shoulder.
His grip was so forceful that pain briefly twisted her expression.
She turned her head and met his furious face, followed immediately by his thunderous accusation:
“Your Holiness, how dare you distort the divine will of Kjeragandr!”
The moment those words left his mouth, it signaled an irreconcilable division within the Vine-Bead Court itself.
No matter how this ended, its authority would suffer a devastating blow.
But better that than allowing his power, and the power of the Court, to be stolen by a traitorous Saintess and that absurd government.
And with that sharp, confrontational shout— the crowd erupted instantly into chaos.