Nestled at the foot of the Alaskan snow-capped peaks, the Odi Grand Temple stood as one of the nineteen grand sanctuaries across the continent dedicated to the supreme Creator God. Constructed entirely of ivory-white marble, the temple was guarded by twenty-four colossal marble columns in the forecourt, each requiring two men to encircle with their arms. Carved meticulously upon them were hymns of praise to the Creator God and His devoted followers.
Atop the temple stood a statue of an angel, whose wings emitted a soft, milky magical radiance that enveloped the entire structure in its gentle glow.
The construction of the Odi Temple spanned sixteen years. On its consecration day, the sky resounded with the mournful blast of thousands of horns; petals rained down like confetti, and a cascade of white holy light descended from the heavens. Within this luminous aura, an angel with outstretched wings appeared fleetingly, bestowing the divine art "Angel's Blessing" upon the temple. Since that day, the Odi Grand Temple had remained bathed in holy light, becoming the only sanctuary among the nineteen—besides the Grand Temple of Light where the Pope resides—to have witnessed divine intervention upon its completion.
Archbishop Brunn, fifty-five years old, slowly closed the *Sacred Prayers* before him, concluding vespers. The white-robed holy sisters of the choir silently withdrew, yet the soaring, solemn hymns seemed still to linger in the air. Gazing at the flames upon the altar, Brunn was suddenly gripped by an unexplained wave of agitation and heart palpitations.
When the moon Mordis had passed its zenith, Brunn finally identified the source of his unease: Venna, the holy sister who had arrived at the temple that very day. Her face, possessing the classical beauty of ancient sculpture, her straight little nose, her lips chiseled like stone—every feature radiated sacred purity. And the subtle contours revealed beneath her white robes with every movement seemed to replay vividly before Brunn's eyes.
"That is an angel!!" Brunn murmured to himself. His throat felt parched, but no water was at hand. Muttering a low curse, he rose and stepped out of the temple.
Raised in the Pope's presence, no one knew Venna's true origins. This was her first time leaving the Grand Temple of Light in her seventeen years.
Beneath Venna's snow-like neck, the sacred white robe could not conceal the faintest ripple of movement. That ripple expanded in Brunn's mind, burning through his nerves. For the first time, Brunn even wished he were a thief—then perhaps he might... He managed a bitter smile. What thief could overcome a Level Sixteen Light Mage? After forty-odd years of devoted service within the Church, he himself was only a Level Thirteen Light Mage. Clearly, the divine remained partial!
He glanced up at the moon, only to see a strange crimson hue bleeding into the lunar light. As astonishment seized him, darkness abruptly engulfed the temple; its holy radiance vanished.
Darkness was among Brunn's greatest aversions. Suppressing his panic, he began a low incantation, tracing intricate symbols with his finger, preparing to cast the third-tier divine art "Holy Light." Besides repelling evil, this spell provided temporary illumination.
A black hand, etched with countless magical sigils—more precisely, a skeletal hand—slipped soundlessly from behind and closed upon Brunn's throat. With a gentle swipe of the index finger, his Holy Light spell died unborn.
Beside Brunn's corpse stood a fully armored warrior. Clad head-to-toe in deep black plate armor, it wielded a two-handed longsword wreathed in black magical flame. Only the bony hand gripping the hilt revealed its true nature as a skeleton. As it pointed its blade forward, countless skeletal warriors emerged from the darkness, swarming towards the temple. Occasionally, an undead knight mounted on a steed of flame-bone would charge out of the shadows, crashing into the encampments of the Temple Knights stationed along the chapel's flanks.
"What is this!! Guards! Guards! Wake up!!"
Amidst the commotion, the Temple Knights awoke. Four hundred knights served the Odi Temple. Well-trained, they rapidly donned minimal armor; some threw themselves desperately against the seemingly endless tide of skeletons at the camp entrance, while others hastened to arm themselves. Already, some clerics had begun casting spells.
Beneath the dim holy light of the main hall, Venna's icy, sculpted features showed no flicker of emotion as she gazed haughtily at the Necromancer before her.
The Necromancer wore a black robe, his eye sockets blazing with pale fire.
"I am Rodericks, the Necromancer you have hunted for three hundred years," Rodericks' voice echoed directly within Venna's mind.
Venna recoiled in shock. As a Level Sixteen Light Mage, she was virtually a demigod. For this Necromancer to breach her mental defenses and project his voice directly into her consciousness implied his mental power could potentially control her. And that name—the infamous Necromancer Rodericks—even thinking it felt tainted by his evil!
"Let us uncover the true identity of the holy sister!" Rodericks' voice echoed once more. The flames in his eye sockets blazed brighter; a wave of icy mental force surged into Venna's mind and detonated. She stifled a groan as a trickle of blood escaped the corner of her mouth. Wave after wave of mental assault exploded within her thoughts.
Staggering, she struggled, astonished by Rodericks' overwhelming power. "Why does such evil escape the gaze of our Heavenly Father?!" As another assault struck, a surging force erupted from the depths of Venna's soul. Hymns of praise to the divine swelled within the temple once more. Beams of holy light burst forth from Venna's body, dispelling Rodericks' mental onslaught. Pure white wings, shimmering faintly with golden threads, unfolded slowly from her back. Lifted by sacred energy, Venna ascended into the air, her eyes now fully transformed to silver-white.
"In the name of the Sacred Heavenly Father, I shall destroy this evil before me!" Venna's voice remained melodious, yet utterly devoid of human emotion. As she chanted, hundreds of holy light orbs rapidly coalesced around her.
"Heh," Rodericks chuckled Low. "I thought you merely an ordinary Light Angel. Yet you are a Mid-tier Light Angel. It seems your Supreme Deity offers you little protection."
As the Light Angel spell neared completion, the temple hymns rose to a crescendo. Holy light projectiles rained towards Rodericks. The Necromancer tapped his staff, and grayish-white flames erupted around him, forming a fiery barrier. Countless holy orbs battered the shield; each explosion caused the flames to shudder and dim. Within moments, Rodericks had endured hundreds of impacts, his barrier near collapse. But that brief respite had been enough. As his finger traced the final magical sigil, a *crunch* echoed, and his left hand disintegrated into bone dust.
A colossal magical array flared to life on the floor behind Venna. Black flames surged skyward. From the void above the array emerged a gargantuan skeletal dragon's head. Fixing its gaze on the Light Angel, the immense skeletal body slowly pulled itself forth from the emptiness. Two-thirds of the temple's main hall was now occupied by this unprecedented bone dragon.
Restored to her Light Angel combat form, Venna should theoretically have held no fear of bone dragons—the mightiest of undead creatures. Yet this dragon felt... different. Bone dragons were never this large; most reached only two-thirds this size, their skeletons pallid or deep gray, often draped in dust and cobwebs from centuries of slumber. This dragon was deep black, its bones intermittently flashing with faint, shifting runes. Venna's unease deepened. As a Light Angel, she should have been able to handle two bone dragons. Why this dread?
"Wait—bone dragons summoned this way? I've never heard of such a thing!"
Venna drew her wings inward; her white robe stirred without wind as the temple hymns reached their zenith. She unleashed the Light Angel's most potent spell, "Light Angel's Sanctuary," encasing herself in a spherical, milky-white shield.
"I told you," Rodericks' cold voice echoed in her mind once more, "your Supreme Deity does not protect you." The bone dragon's skeletal wings beat the air. It threw back its head in a silent roar that spread rapidly outward. Outside the temple, Temple Knights and clerics fighting desperately to breach the undead lines and reach the sanctuary were struck as if by an invisible force. Weaker knights spat blood and crumpled slowly to the ground. Venna's shield flickered and wavered, pushing her back several steps.
"If merely the dragon's roar is this overwhelming, the breath..." Venna could not finish the thought. She turned to flee. Then, silently, the dragon's breath washed over her. Her shield convulsed violently, flickering in and out of existence. Suddenly, blinding light—intense enough to blind—accompanied by a violent storm, engulfed everything within the temple.
When calm returned, Venna was embedded halfway up the temple wall, her white robe torn into tatters, revealing her snow-like skin now marred with bloody lacerations. As the storm subsided, her body slid to the ground, leaving a horrific trail of blood along the wall.
"Heh. A true Light Angel, to survive the dragon breath of Atestegla the Profane and suffer only flesh wounds! But your divine power is surely spent now." Venna spat blood, struggling to pull the shredded remnants of her robe over her exposed form. "You... you know your actions today... cannot escape the Heavenly Father's gaze. Even if your strength surpasses mine, you stand no chance against any Greater Deity. Cough... cough... Besides, Judgment Light descends soon. Wherever you hide, purification awaits."
"It seems you do not understand what I seek. As a Necromancer, my power has reached the pinnacle of this world. Judgment Light *will* descend upon me, regardless! The divine will not tolerate power that threatens its own. I have hidden for three hundred years; I will hide no longer! Now, my dear Light Angel... surrender your soul to me."
"What! No!!! No..." Venna's scream became a ragged, soul-shattering shriek, utterly devoid of angelic grace. The Necromancer began another incantation; his left forearm bone crumbled to dust. As the spell completed, a figure walked slowly into the temple—the very Archbishop Brunn. His normally well-kept face was now livid, the wound at his throat drained of blood, the exposed flesh ghastly pale. Brunn's gaze fixed upon Venna, settling on her white, slender thighs streaked with blood and bruises. The lust suppressed in life, amplified a thousandfold by necromancy, surged through him. A beastly roar ripped from his throat as he threw himself upon the Light Angel.
Within several mysterious halls across the continent, ancient consciousnesses stirred from deep slumber, turning their attention towards the temple. Every soul in Port Puse awoke from nightmares. People stepped from their homes, stunned to see the night sky transformed into a deep, ominous red. The temple, usually visible for miles, vanished into the night. Slowly, the very earth seemed to tremble faintly.
Within the temple echoed the Archbishop's bestial panting; the golden altar groaned under strain, as if near collapse. White clouds rapidly formed beyond the temple, surging towards it. The blood-red clouds encircling the temple faltered, compressed into a small patch directly above, yet still clung on desperately. Angry thunder rumbled within the white clouds as holy light pierced through. Undead creatures at the temple's edge began burning instantly under its rays. Waves of silent, agonized cries rippled through the air.
The Necromancer chanted incessantly, his skeletal frame exploding fragment by fragment. The fire in his eye sockets blazed ever fiercer as he fixed his gaze upon the entangled, writhing figures on the altar. With a roar like distant thunder, the most profane seed was sown across Venna's entire being.
At that moment, Venna's spirit finally shattered. The half-ruined Necromancer's eyes flared; her skull burst apart. A translucent figure, bound in black miasma, flew forth. The Necromancer opened his mouth and expelled a pearl, encircled by layers upon layers of incredibly complex magical arrays.
"Beneath this divine artifact, the Soul Pearl, where can you flee? Hahahaha!"
The translucent Light Angel's soul was instantly drawn into the pearl. The Necromancer glanced at the captive soul within, his Low chuckle echoing like thunder across the heavens. Then his remaining skull exploded; a wisp of black smoke darted into the pearl.
Tendrils of pale azure flame shot down from the white clouds in the sky. The blood-red clouds were consumed entirely, and Port Puse lay bathed in daylight. Citizens stood in the streets, gazing in fear at the celestial aberration.
Once more, hymns thundered to the heavens. A pillar of white light descended; the temple caught within its beam ignited. Black wisps of corruption vanished rapidly within the flames.
In Sacred Calendar year six hundred eighty-two, the Odi Grand Temple was profaned. The mightiest Necromancer, Rodericks, was reduced to ashes by the Judgment Light of an enraged Heavenly Father. The so-called Temple of Radiant Light, the Odi Grand Temple, was consumed by Purifying Flames, left as naught but ruins.