Chapter 56: History (Part II)
The Radiant Church had succeeded in overthrowing the rule of the sorcerers. Now, before Enoch lay the question: how to govern the human world? Most crucially, how to manage relations with the knightly class?
In the postwar human world, the commoners wholly supported the rule of the Radiant Church and devoutly worshipped the Lord of Radiance. Yet the knights, accustomed to witnessing the extraordinary powers of sorcerers, maintained a respectful awe for the Lord of Radiance, but lacked true faith. This set them apart from the commoner believers. Among the common folk, resentment lingered toward these former minions of the sorcerers, despite the fact that it was the knights’ betrayal that had enabled the overthrow of the tyrants.
Beyond these internal conflicts, Enoch discovered humanity faced external threats to survival. The shifting laws of the world had weakened both the sorcerers and the clergy, rendering humans at their most vulnerable, just as beastfolk and monsters began to threaten human territories.
Moreover, though the sorcerers had been defeated, they had not been eradicated; sorcerer awakenings occurred at random. To prevent the resurgence of the sorcerer class, the Radiant Church needed to purge and purify newly awakened sorcerers. Yet Enoch realized there were too few clergy to accomplish this. Thus, courting the knightly class became his sole option.
In the first year of the Radiant Era, Enoch held his coronation ceremony atop Mount Light. He proclaimed the ideals of protection, redemption, devotion, and faith, assumed the papacy of the Radiant Church as Enoch I, and decreed that the papal office would be inherited by his descendants, continuing to this day.
The First Pope announced the formation of the Radiant Order of Knights, and at the ceremony, he conferred the title of Holy Knight upon the seven earliest knights who had followed him, bestowing the honorific "Saint" before their family names. That very day, angels descended, light enveloped the scene, and the seven gold-ranked Holy Knights, empowered by divine might, ascended instantly into the legendary realm. Witnessing knights were awestruck.
Afterwards, the Pope implemented a feudal system. The Church recognized the noble status of knights and required them to serve as lords, governing their domains alongside clergy, protecting commoners, resisting outsiders, and purging new sorcerers.
Enoch I defined the duties and obligations of each class: lords exercised protection and faith, clergy redemption and faith, commoners devotion and faith.
Finally, Enoch I issued the Radiant Codex, whose section on lordship enshrined the sanctity and inviolability of noble rule. The Church would not seize lands from nobles—even if a lord was executed for defying church decrees, his blood heirs retained their right of inheritance.
With the Codex promulgated, knights were pleased, swore allegiance to the Pope, and joyfully assumed their posts across the land, thus inaugurating the feudal noble system that persists to this day.
Enoch’s feudal system not only eliminated the risk of open conflict between the Church and the knightly class, but also drew knights to aid the Church in resisting outsiders and purging sorcerers, granting the Church time to recover and grow stronger.
It seemed all parties were satisfied—yet, as time passed, new tensions emerged.
As knights exercised their duties as lords, they were shocked to discover that without the leadership of sorcerers, they were unable to withstand attacks from beastfolk and monsters.
In the past, when knights purged monster hordes under sorcerer command, sorcerers would unleash mighty fireballs, scattering the monsters, after which knights finished the cleanup with ease. Now, facing vast swarms of savage beasts directly, they realized even the most insignificant goblin tribe was not easily subdued. Even with the Church’s clergy, it made little difference; few clergy possessed combat prowess, and their powers were also weakened.
The result: knights fought monsters in bloody battles, suffered grave wounds, were healed by clergy, and returned to fight again—only to be wounded anew. If they died, it was final; resurrection spells had never existed.
Over the past seven thousand years, as monsters invaded, human territory shrank steadily—now reduced to just forty percent of what it was in the Age of the Chosen.
With expansion impossible, internal strife intensified. Lords who lost their domains sought space within human society, fueling friction and mergers among lords. Gradually, the balance among lords broke: some grew stronger, others weaker. The weak began to seek the protection of the powerful, forming alliances and vassalage, creating interest groups and, eventually, noble hierarchies.
In Radiant Year 1757, over five thousand years ago, the strongest lordly faction declared the founding of a kingdom—the first in human history. Yet within three years, the kingdom collapsed: its king and several great lords were executed by the Church!
Their crime: launching wars of conquest that slaughtered masses of commoners, an atrocity the Radiant Church could not tolerate. Publicly, the Church declared these lords had violated the Radiant Codex, forsaken their duty of protection, and wantonly butchered commoners, making them as evil as sorcerers. Thus, in fulfillment of their duty of redemption, the Church ended the wicked war and executed the evil lords.
This was the first time the Church executed lords, and their display of power struck terror into the hearts of all lords.
By then, the Church had trained numerous clergy, and the Radiant Order of Knights had become the most formidable military force in the human world, boasting eleven legendary Holy Knights.
With such power, the Church did not stand idle against nonhuman invaders. In fact, clergy always fought bravely against monsters, first to charge, last to retreat, many sacrificing their lives to protect the people, their blood and deeds composing countless heroic epics. This is why clergy of the Radiant Church are proficient in martial arts.
The mighty Radiant Order of Knights also launched campaigns across the land, exterminating thousands of monsters and reclaiming vast lost territories.
Yet, crucially, the clergy unfailingly followed the Codex’s lordly laws. Territories recaptured from monsters were handed back to the lords, and the knights departed.
The lords, receiving their domains, had little cause to rejoice. Before long, monsters would return in force, and the lords would lose their lands again. “Look, I’ve fulfilled my duty of redemption, but I have no authority to rule; now that I’ve reclaimed your land, you lose it again? No matter—I’ll help you reclaim it once more. What, you don’t want it anymore? Very well, I’ll move elsewhere.” After several repetitions, lords unable to defend their lands abandoned them, joining other families, and the Radiant Order ceased to purge those territories. Thus, human lands dwindled.
Squeezed by monsters externally and pressured by Church might internally, lords fused together, realizing that only unity could resist the Church’s overwhelming power. Thus, alliances and knightly duels entered history.
During this era, lords strengthened ties through intermarriage and resolved irreconcilable disputes through knightly duels.
The emergence of knightly duels fostered a distinct value system among knights: courage, honor, and integrity. This enabled lords to establish many kingdoms. Since these wars caused little civilian harm, the Church took no action.
But expecting kingdoms to unify through marriages and duels was laughable.
The rise of kingdoms consolidated the power of knightly factions, propelling human civilization forward. In Radiant Year 2535, four and a half millennia ago, the noblewoman Arya established the Silver Tower, first proposing that lords unite the commoners of their domains and introducing the concepts of vassal, subject, and freeman.
This system was profoundly significant and far-reaching.
Firstly, it divided the commoner class, weakening Church control over domains and strengthening lordly rule, making secular kingdoms more stable.
Secondly, it changed the nature of warfare: wars between kingdoms were no longer single duels, but small-scale battles between elite forces, perfectly suited to the needs of the human kingdoms.
The first large-scale war among lords caused over twenty thousand casualties; afterwards, the warring lord was crushed by the Church, so lords returned to resolving disputes through knightly duels and completed kingdom formations. Yet conflicts between kingdoms could not be solved by duels—more often, two knights would fight, then their kingdoms would squabble endlessly.
Small-scale wars, however, did not provoke Church retaliation, and thus the first human empire was born.
The empire’s emergence empowered the knightly class as never before, giving them confidence to challenge the Church and intensifying tensions between nobles and clergy—effects that persist to this day.
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“King, what do you see in this history Edwin told me?” Victor asked expectantly, now viewing the king as his own advisor.
“Sire, unity and division are the cycles of human society, but the Church has interrupted this pattern,” replied the king.
“Exactly! I knew it—the Church is problematic! For humanity to expand its domains, unity is vital. Only concentrated power can defeat the monsters and beastfolk of the wild. Yet the Church prevented the unification of the human world; their feudal system from the start was never well-intentioned!”
“The Radiant Church’s aim is to harvest human faith! Only suffering makes commoners more devout to the Lord of Radiance, while knights rely on their own strength and don’t worship any deity. So whenever knights instigate wars of unification, the Church ruthlessly suppresses them! It’s like a shepherd never lets the sheepdog eat the flock! Hmph! The Lord of Radiance treats ordinary people as sheep, knights as sheepdogs—the will of the flock and dog is of no importance to Him!”
As a transmigrant, Victor’s anger over humanity’s subjugation reddened his eyes.
“Sire, your conjecture is baseless. I believe you've watched too many dramas,” the king commented in Victor’s mind.
“….” Victor was instantly embarrassed by the king’s cold water.
“Sire, we know little of this world’s laws, nor the true effects of human faith. Yet, from Edwin’s history, it’s clear the Lord of Radiance doesn’t care about faith.”
“The first evidence is population. If humans are sheep and faith is wool, the shepherd would surely expand the flock. So, Sire, when was humanity most numerous?” the king asked Victor.
“It was eight thousand years ago, during the Age of the Chosen, before the blood rituals. I understand now,” Victor replied after a moment’s thought.
The Age of the Chosen was humanity’s peak; their lands were more than double today’s, their population likewise greatest.
“If the Lord of Radiance sought faith, that was the time for maximum gain, and His power could easily establish a church—yet He did not,” the king transmitted to Victor.
“But according to the Church, it was the dying prayers of the people that awakened the Lord of Radiance, and before that, He slept, so naturally He couldn’t establish a church. But after awakening, He’d surely want breakfast…” Victor stubbornly defended his theory.
“Sire, that brings us to the second evidence. Arya, founder of the Silver Tower, introduced the vassal system, shaking the very foundation of faith, yet the Church did nothing.”
Victor fell silent. The vassal system strengthened the bond between lords and their common subjects; this middle class, drawn from the commoners, depended more on their lords. Subjects aspired to become vassals, and between Church and lord, they chose their master. True worshippers of the Lord of Radiance were impoverished freemen, whose status could change.
It was a remarkably clever system. “You block my unification? You block my expansion? Fine, my domain is small, can’t sustain everyone—let them wander. Don’t want to leave? Sorry, my castle can’t house all, live outside. What, monsters? Join me in purging them. Ah, there’s a band of ogres beyond my domain, let’s deal with them too, lest they eat the freemen. After fierce battle, the domain expands, freemen become subjects, and Church forces are depleted.”
Such a system undermined the Church, yet it did nothing!
“Third evidence: when the Church was strongest, it never stripped lords of their rule, never established a unified human empire, but adhered to the Codex and feudal law. This is illogical.”
If the Church truly needed faith, purging the false-believing lords and creating a unified realm would serve its interests—yet it did not, though it had the power!
“What does the Radiant Church really want? Or what does the Lord of Radiance want?” Victor asked, troubled.
“Sire, I must remind you—the Church is made up of humans, not to be conflated with the Lord of Radiance.”
“We’ve already concluded the Lord of Radiance cannot intervene directly; He and the Church are more like collaborators.”
“Give me your conclusion,” Victor said impatiently.
“The Lord of Radiance’s true concern is severing the connection between demons and this world. He requires the purging of awakened ones, and prevents mass blood rituals among humans.”
“Sire, notice that wars causing mass civilian deaths resemble blood rituals: all those dying humans generate hatred, fear, pain—intense negative emotions. I believe these might benefit demons.”
“And all the Church’s inexplicable actions point to one thing—the Radiant Codex. Every act is to uphold the Codex, and for thousands of years, this has never changed.”
“Sire, have you noticed knights cannot awaken, but can gain divine power as Holy Knights? A golden knight becomes a Holy Knight and instantly enters the legendary realm. Thus, divine power is the Church’s foundation.”
“I surmise that any clergy violating the Codex would lose their divine abilities. The Lord of Radiance does not need faith, though the Church might, but they cannot violate the Codex, or all faith is meaningless.”
“Wait—the Codex was written by the First Pope. Why would he bind his successors?” Victor asked hurriedly.
“Sire, you seem deeply hostile to the Radiant Church—may I ask why?” the king inquired.
“I dislike having a supernatural being looming over me. I always suspect the Church has some plot,” Victor answered frankly, hiding nothing from the king.
“Sire, such prejudice leads to errors. Judging from the First Pope’s deeds, he was indeed great and wise.”
Victor was speechless. Why couldn’t Enoch simply be a noble man? His actions certainly suggest so.
“I surmise it went thus: Enoch and the Lord of Radiance cooperated, eliminated the awakened ones, then forged a covenant. The Church was tasked with purging sorcerers and preventing mass slaughter of humanity; the Lord of Radiance granted the Church the power to harvest faith and wield divine arts. Enoch, to prevent the Church or knights from becoming tyrants like the sorcerers, compiled the Codex, witnessed by the Lord of Radiance.”
“And the Lord of Radiance behaves more like a being of law, or a program—He does not judge good or evil, so Enoch needed the Codex to constrain future generations.”
“If the knights fall to corruption, the Church will crusade against them. If the clergy violate the Codex, they will lose their power. This makes sense; it seems I misjudged the Church—they are indeed noble.” Victor sighed.
“Sire, the Church’s nobility is meaningless; the Codex has shackled the progress of human society. The Church stands opposed to the nobility, and this tension will cause internal change.”
“Indeed. Edwin’s subsequent account confirms this. But why do you think there will not be war between nobles and Church?” Victor asked, surprised.
“As long as the Church recognizes noble rule, war will not erupt. Moreover, Holy Knights are stronger than ordinary knights—and Holy Knights originate from the knightly class!”