Cedric's voice rang out again—calm, casual, as if he were asking the weather.
"So, High Priest... how much money does the Church truly possess?"
The priest's mouth opened—but nothing came.
He forced himself to lift his eyes toward Cedric.
And that's when he saw it.
Through the gentle veil of shadow that cloaked Cedric's hooded face, something had changed.
Two blazing eyes—white-gold and divine—now stared back at him.
Not eyes of a man.
Not even a saint.
Eyes of judgment. Eyes that pierced through thought, through flesh, through soul—
eyes that laid bare every truth the priest had ever tried to bury.
He felt his knees go weak.
His voice came out in a strangled whisper.
"...Three trillion..."
Cedric tilted his head.
"Three trillion?"
He took a step forward.
"Are you... sure about that?"
"Yes. Yes, of course—why would I—"
CRACK—
The sound of impact snapped through the cathedral like a thunderclap.
