At exactly 10 a.m., the sacrificial ceremony officially began.
The small plaza outside the cathedral was already packed tight with a sea of worshippers.
Aside from the rows of benches at the center and the green carpet stretching from the cathedral gates to the plaza's entrance, every inch of space was filled with people.
Ron, led by a group of nuns, stood at the end of the green carpet at the entrance of the plaza.
In front of him was Sister Sylvie—one of the highest-ranking nuns in the convent—standing at the head of the ceremonial procession, symbolizing the authority of the Goddess's Chosen.
Behind Ron were six robe-holding nuns, delicately pinching the trailing ends of his ceremonial garment, which was embroidered with flowers, trees, and vines—symbols of the Goddess's blessing.
Following them was the main body of the nun procession, each carrying a different plant, representing the countless life forms blessed by the Goddess of Harvest.
Behind the nuns stood Archbishop Ulysses and several bishops accompanying the ceremony, followed by priests and missionaries.
At the very back were the honored guests who had come to witness the ceremony.
At precisely 10 a.m., the ceremony officially began.
Sister Sylvie stepped forward onto the green carpet, walking slowly toward the main cathedral doors.
Every three steps, she stopped, drew the sacred wheat sigil on her chest, knelt, and recited a line of prayer.
At those moments, the surrounding crowd fell silent, joining in by making the same sigil on their chests and silently praising the Goddess in their hearts.
The entire plaza grew reverently still. Only the sound of petals, leaves, and holy water being scattered by the nuns echoed through the air.
The faithful standing close to the carpet looked up with devout expressions, letting the petals, leaves, and water fall on their faces and bodies, feeling as if their spirits were being cleansed.
Step by step, pausing every three steps, the procession slowly inched toward the cathedral—moving at a pace as slow as a tortoise.
A distance of just over a hundred meters took a full hour to walk—no more, no less.
Ron maintained a solemn expression. Watching Sylvie's back ahead of him, he couldn't help but wonder how many times she must have rehearsed this walk to get the timing this perfect.
Fortunately, it was autumn edging into winter, and even in the thick ceremonial robes, Ron didn't feel overheated. Otherwise, just the sensation of sweat-soaked hair would have been unbearable.
Not to mention, the emerald crown on his head would've likely slipped off due to sweat.
That said… Sister Sylvie really did have an amazing figure...
From the front, one could easily get lost in those mountain ranges, but now, from the back, the scenery on the far side of the mountain was just as beautiful.
It was like appreciating a car—most people focus on the headlights and front grill, but the rear curves… had a charm of their own.
At exactly 11 a.m., the procession arrived at the cathedral entrance. Ron forced himself to stop daydreaming and kept his face respectfully composed.
Naturally, Sister Sylvie had no idea what the Chosen of the Goddess was thinking behind her.
Upon reaching the grand entrance to the main hall, she knelt once more, reciting all the prayers she had spoken during the walk again in silence.
Ten minutes later, Sylvie stood up and pushed open the doors of the cathedral. The ceremonial procession then officially entered the main hall.
The audience outside followed guidance and took their seats on the benches in the plaza, all turning their attention toward the now-open cathedral doors.
What they saw inside was entirely different from the church they remembered.
All the usual benches had been removed, and in their place was a magnificent altar.
The altar was constructed in three layers.
The lowest and largest level was thirty meters in diameter.
The altar's colors were green and gold—just like Ron's ceremonial robes—symbolizing the same divine aspects.
Around the central altar were several smaller, single-tier altars.
After entering the hall, the nuns, apart from Sylvie and the six robe-holding attendants, all dispersed and took their places on the smaller surrounding altars.
Ron, guided by Sylvie, performed the complex rituals step-by-step and slowly ascended to the central altar.
Thanks to the rehearsal a few days ago, Ron didn't make any mistakes, and the process went smoothly.
But unlike the empty altar from rehearsal, today's altar had something waiting on it.
Following Sylvie, Ron approached an emerald lectern that resembled a podium. Glancing down, he spotted what was lying atop it—
A belt?
Ron was puzzled but, as instructed by Sylvie, closed his eyes, drew the wheat sigil over his chest, and began reciting the sacred prayer.
At the same time, the nuns on the smaller altars knelt in unison, reciting the prayer with him.
In the plaza outside, all the worshippers closed their eyes as well. The scattered hum of voices soon grew into a unified chant, so powerful it stunned even those observing from the nearby streets.
Those seated on the benches were filled with awe, feeling as if they were submerged in a vast sea of faith.
Magical energy began to ripple outward from the altar.
The vibrant colors of the smaller altars slowly dimmed as their magic flowed invisibly toward the center.
The green and golden light began to pulse—like the steady beating of a heart.
The emerald lectern in front of Ron began to emit a soft glow.
The belt lying on top, once appearing plain and unremarkable, now revealed its true form.
As the altar channeled magic into it, golden-green patterns resembling vines began to spread across its surface like branching twigs.
A divine aura, earthy and fresh like fertile soil, burst forth from the belt and surged into Ron's body, nourishing his limbs and organs.
Even the faint traces of divinity radiating outward were beneficial—nearby nuns could be seen reacting subtly.
Some of the younger ones let out soft gasps they couldn't quite suppress. The older ones managed to maintain composure, but their faces flushed red.
The worshippers outside, bathed in the same divine energy, were filled with fervor, and the chanting grew louder and more passionate.
Sister Sylvie stepped forward, picked up the belt from the lectern, and held it in both hands as she solemnly addressed Ron:
"By the authority of the Harvest Goddess Hervesta, I hereby bestow upon Ron André the Belt of Life of Hervesta."
"From this day forth, the Goddess's Chosen, Lord Ron André, shall serve as the Acting Voice of the Goddess within the Church of Hervesta."
Her voice, carried through magical resonance, echoed clearly in every worshipper's ear.
As her words fell, Sylvie dropped to one knee, bowing forward and holding both ends of the belt. She wrapped it around Ron's waist and fastened it herself.
The moment the belt was secured, Ron felt two streams of warm energy rise on either side of his waist, like soaking in a hot spring—soothing and revitalizing.
As Sylvie stood up and declared, "The ceremony is complete," a new prompt sounded in Ron's mind:
[System Notification:
Congratulations, Host, on unlocking a new achievement.]