Once everyone finished writing, they gave their paper to the clerics. The papers were then teleported elsewhere on the island, and they waited for their results. It wasn't until midnight did the results come, and the clerics announced to them that everyone present passed and they were about to begin the ceremony.

The gem began to glow brightly. Its light illuminated the entirety of the courtyard yet remained gentle to the eye. In fact, the light did not burn, but instead, it felt cool. This made the already cold night even colder. The clerics gathered around the gem and began chanting a spell passed to them by the church's founders. The coldness from the gem slowly turned rose until it was warm. Everyone gave a sigh of relief once it was warm.

Then the clergymen drew a line on the ground with red paint, and one of them created a podium and a water fountain next to the gem. The water fountain was filled with holy wine, meant to represent Mahalia's blood. Once the clergyman finished filling the fountain, the others began to pull the nobles one by one to stand on the line.

The cleric that approached Sun was a muscular demon, with yellow horns and feathers, which contrasted beautifully with his dark skin. The demon approached Sun with caution. The church warned the clergy about Sun due to his identity, which is kept secret. The information was shared only with the Entente. "Come," He told Sun.

Sun stood up and smiled. His demeanor fit his name. The demon could tell that he shined with confidence and glee, which offsets the warning the church placed on Sun's back. But the demon reasoned that even the sun is dangerous, especially when one gets too close to the fiery sphere. Sure enough, Sun's radiant smile showed off both his strength and his naivety. Leaders with pragmatic values are better than those with idealistic principles. Those that only focus on their idealistic view on the rule are destined to ruin the world they believed they would save. Sun and Barov are very similar in that regard. But Barov was m.a.t.u.r.e compared to Sun because he was born during turmoil. He had to escape death while he was struggling to stay afloat in the sea of lies and deceit in the capital castle.

Sun had yet to experience loss so profound that it will usher in his change. But what the demon and the church do not know is that Sun already lost many. But his loss merely fueled the idealism in his beliefs. He was going to save everyone; he thought—such a foolish endeavor.

Sun waited in line until it was his turn to touch the gem. His hand sank into the gem as if it was made of water. The gem was frigid cold despite the warm light it exudes. Sun endured even as his body dropped into dangerously low temperatures and his skin turning blue and purple. The clergyman on the podium recited the prayer, and afterward, they poured the wine on his head. The wine was warm as if it was blood from a freshly slaughtered animal, but Sun knew it was wine. He tasted the gr.a.p.e juice and the hint of alcohol when it rolled into his mouth.

The wine was made with warm mana. It replenished Sun's body. Once the cleric finished his prayer, Sun removed his hands from the gem, and he officially finished his baptism. The Church of Mahalia now recognized him as the child of the servant, and his kingdom will be protected under the church's doctrines. Whatever those doctrines are.

Those rules always fluctuate based on those in powers' need. At one of the cathedral towers, a member of the Entente was reviewing the papers written by the exam takers. His name was Areia, a beastkin with dyed purple hair and missing an eye. He read Sun's paper for the twentieth time, still dumbfounded by his answer.

He wondered how this noble hasn't yet been broken. So many have already lost their childish outlook in life, but this one is still clinging on to some lost cause. Areia wants to meet this person. He wants to know what runs inside Sun's mind.

And thankfully, as if blessed by Mahalia, he was given a chance to do so. The Pontiff has issued an order to him and fellow Entente members. They were to detain Barov on the beach tomorrow morning, right after they leave the island. They were to drag the ship to the beach and present them with a paper of Barov's illegitimacy to rule. A conflict will surely start, so Areia was given orders to fight but not to kill. He could not wait for tomorrow to test the idealist's strength.

Xinbad entered the room quietly. Despite his body being made of iron, his steps were gentle and quiet. "Have you reviewed the plans for tomorrow?" He asked.

Areia folded the paper and placed it inside a drawer. He looked at Xinbad's cold blue gem of an eye. His body always shivered at the sight of those unwavering and unnatural eyes. "I know what we need to do."

"Good because I would like to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"The plan." Xinbad grabbed a chair and sat down, "It feels like we are simply toying with them instead of actually resolving the issue with Barov and the future of his country. Does the Pontiff not care? We lost our firearms supplier. As well as that supplier's influence over those two troublesome major powers.".

"You mean the dwarves and the dark elves?" Areia g.r.o.a.n.e.d, "It is pretty frustrating, but I feel like the Pontiff's legacy defining plan will be ready soon. Haven't you seen those dogs?"

"Those aliens? I hate those bastards. They think they are better just because their homeworld resides in the Infinite Sea. What about them anyway?"

"I think the Pontiff just discovered a way to get to the Infinite Sea."

"What?" Xinbad yelled, "When? And how?"

"Calm down, you steel mutt." Areia calmly whispered. "It's only a speculation. It looks like the Pontiff is making deals with those outsiders after the wake of King's defeat."

"And what about King himself? How useful is he going to be afterward?"

Areia teleported next to a shelf and took out a blueprint. "Take a look at this."

Xinbad examined the paper. It was a blueprint design of a tank created by King. He was not impressed. "So what? Tanks are nothing special. We have loads of those dug out from the ancient ruins during the reign of the Sky People. There have been so many permutations of this war machine through the centuries. The Garden Tower alone has ten legions of these war machines, all organized based on what year and what civilization used them. What's so good about this?"

"Do you know what you are powered by?" Areia pointed at his c.h.e.s.t, "Mana. You, and those aliens, and those tanks, and any other machine and golem we know of runs because of mana. They feed off of mana. But that tank King designed is different. It uses something else entirely, just like his guns."

"What does it use?"

"Oil."

"Oil? Like whale oil?"

"No, the black one."

"You mean that substance the beastkins in the steppes used to fuel their lamps. That thing runs on that?"

"No, not entirely. We have to process them first. Turn them into gasoline, which is a clear substance. And the process can be done by peasants. We don't need specialized mana users. We just need tools to mass-produce it and an access point to the source. We don't need highly trained mana users to run these factories and these tanks." Areia said excitedly. "And we are building our first steps to create these tanks and possibly more. Macha is in charge of building the infrastructure."

"One of the Morgans is in charge of this important logistics. That is disturbing."

"And what about you? Do you still doubt the tank's merit?"

The golem's eyes flashed. He looked at the blueprints one last time. The tank was small, and its weapons seemed to function similarly to the guns they received from King. "This tank better be useful, or else, we will lose the war."