Chapter Fifty-One: The Duel of Wagers and Combat

As a grand religious festival, the All Gods’ Day celebration is naturally filled with a variety of performances. However, unlike traditional festivals, this one features some unique events—most notably, the fact that during the festivities, major religions with ongoing disputes will engage in confrontations. These confrontations are not mere quarrels escalating into brawls, but rather organized duels akin to wagers, fought by representatives from each religion. Before the duel, both parties must put forth a wager, and the victor claims the stake of the defeated.

Before such a wagered duel can take place, approval must be sought from the Five Great Churches and the host, Count Lothar. As long as Count Lothar and any two of the Five Churches consent, the duel is sanctioned. These wagered duels are a highlight of the festival, occupying the afternoons of the first day and continuing into the following two days.

It is a curious, even bizarre custom—difficult to imagine that such discordant events would be permitted amidst a grand festival. Yet, this is the particular character of the world of Solacum.

Countless religions thrive beneath these skies, locked in endless conflict over followers and doctrine. Bloodshed is not uncommon, much to the vexation of those in power. Just as knights once broke the law with their swords, so too do these religious zealots break it in the name of faith.

Brute repression is futile; when two churches bear grudges, conflict is inevitable. History is replete with examples of regions plunged into chaos by religious strife—often because tensions, suppressed too long, erupted uncontrollably.

Thus, six centuries ago, a lord, driven to his wits’ end by religious squabbling, devised this solution: let the warring churches settle their disputes right under his watchful eye, through wagered duels. The loser would pay an appropriate price to appease the winner, who in turn would be forbidden to pursue further revenge—at least for a year. Should they seek redress, they must wait for the next All Gods’ Day to issue a new challenge.

Though crude and not particularly binding, this approach won the favor of the authorities. It mitigated the outbreak of violent conflict and allowed rulers to gauge the strength of various religious factions, thereby consolidating their own power. The practice rapidly caught on among other rulers, and after centuries of development and refinement, it has become an accepted tradition.

With the maturation of the religious hierarchy, major faiths with patriarchs in each province also joined in maintaining these rules. To secure their own positions, they, too, saw the benefit of the All Gods’ Day contests, using them to assess and undermine rivals.

Now, this system is an ‘order’ jointly upheld by lords and major religions. Its binding force is strong; few faiths dare defy it. Not only during the festival, but even in the ensuing year, those who have lost a wagered duel are bound to keep the peace. To violate this rule is to incur not only the wrath of the authorities but also the collective resistance and suppression of other religions.

To Link, this is a classic case of political oppression. Flawed though it may be, its advantages for the ruling class ensure that the powers-that-be fight to preserve it, endlessly extolling its virtues to sway public opinion. Those of lower status, lacking the strength to resist, have no choice but to accept it and seek whatever benefits they can within the constraints of the system.

As a newly established faith, the Church of the Father God should have had no part in these affairs. Even though the Church of the Mad God and the Church of the War God had their quarrels with them, the aftermath of recent wars and the suppression by the Three Great Churches made it impossible for them to seek revenge during the festival. Thus, Link came with the intention of remaining a bystander.

Unexpectedly, the Temple of the Mad God had colluded with the Church of the Star God, and the latter was clearly well-prepared. Link sensed that this festival would not be so easily navigated.

Sure enough, when the morning’s celebrations concluded and the host announced the list of challenging and challenged churches for this year, Link heard his own Church’s name called. Worse, the reason given was one he could not refuse.

“The Church of the Star God issues a wagered duel to the Church of the Father God, and, in the name of apostasy arbitration, challenges the Archbishop Neil Night of the Father God Church!”

Apostasy arbitration—this, too, is a peculiar custom of the religious world. When a person commits apostasy, their former church retains the right to arbitrate. This does not mean the church can persecute the apostate at will; rather, it may challenge them to a duel, which the apostate cannot refuse. Should the apostate lose, their fate—life and property alike—falls to the church’s judgment. Should they win, the church must henceforth leave them be, and the stain of apostasy is removed.

Were this a private matter, Link could have feigned ignorance and ignored it. But with the duel and apostasy arbitration combined in a public challenge, he had no way to refuse.

In fact, he had not planned to refuse. The matter of apostasy arbitration had always left Link conflicted; though apostasy had become common, as a prominent figure, the label continued to mar his reputation. Now that the Church of the Star God had invoked arbitration, he saw a chance to resolve the issue once and for all.

Moreover, with the support of the Celestial Spirit Church, Link was confident in his Church’s martial strength. This contest could serve as an opportunity to raise the Father God Church’s prestige and lay a foundation for future growth.

After some deliberation, Link instructed Saka to convey his acceptance of the duel. The reaction was immediate and tumultuous. In the eyes of the crowd, the Father God Church’s recent rise was mere luck; without the protection of the Three Great Churches, it would have long since been destroyed by the Temple of the Mad God or the Church of the War God.

Now, faced with the Church of the Star God—a power even greater than the Temple of the Mad God—they agreed to the duel without hesitation. Was the Archbishop of the Father God Church mad? Or was he so emboldened by his victories over the Temple of the Mad God and the Church of the War God that he believed he could best the deep-rooted Church of the Star God in a wagered duel?

Like an ant trying to shake a tree—that was how the masses saw it.

Yet, this display of overconfidence added considerable intrigue to the festival. Many began to eagerly anticipate the duel between the Church of the Star God and the Father God Church; wagers were soon being placed, with odds of 1.2 to 1 for the Church of the Star God, and a lopsided 15 to 1 for the Father God Church—a reflection of public opinion on the outcome.

Count Lothar had initially considered using his authority to suppress the duel on Link’s behalf, but seeing Link’s decisiveness, he refrained, instead scheduling the duel for the festival’s final day to grant Link and his church more time to prepare.

To the audience, this arrangement signaled that the Count himself was eagerly anticipating the match, further stoking interest and expectation.

In this atmosphere, Elia nervously tugged at Link’s sleeve and asked, “Brother Neil, are we really right to accept this duel so rashly? The Church of the Star God is no ordinary church. Though they’ve never interfered in our affairs before, I’ve heard their foundation is deep and their ranks are filled with experts. Can we really defeat them?”

Link gave no immediate answer, instead turning to Saka and Aeolus. “Is that what you two think as well?”

Saka and Aeolus exchanged a hesitant glance, then nodded. Though their trust in Link was unconditional, even they felt uneasy before the might of such an established and powerful church.

Seeing this, Link smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. The Church of the Star God may be formidable, but duel matches are one-on-one. In terms of elite fighters, we will not lose to them. Don’t forget, we are under the protection of the Father God himself. How could we be defeated by heretics who worship false gods?”

At these words, the three were reminded of their faith in the divine, and their confidence surged, all doubts melting away. Such is the power of belief: when one is certain of divine protection, one finds reserves of courage never before imagined.

At that moment, Ling Wind spoke up, “Archbishop Neil, do you require our assistance?”

Link shook his head and replied quietly, “No need. I intend to use this as an opportunity to train these two. They are the future backbone of our church—if they grow up always under my wing, they’ll become little more than obedient followers. I want them to be leaders, not just officers. If the Celestial Spirit Church steps in, the lesson will be lost.”

Ling Wind nodded in understanding, then smiled slightly. “In that case, let Ling Dream join you in the contest.”

“Ling Dream?” Link was taken aback.

“Yes, Ling Dream. Many wagered duels are fought in a best-of-five format. If the opposing side calls for five rounds and you lack the numbers, you’ll be at a disadvantage. Besides, Ling Dream is now your attendant; there’s no reason she can’t compete alongside the Father God Church. Don’t worry, only we know her true identity. She has never appeared publicly—posing as a nun from your church will be more than sufficient.”

“Uh…” Link glanced at Ling Dream. Though she’d been assigned to serve him some time ago, he’d never truly believed it. The circumstances had been dubious, and the Celestial Spirit Church’s ways were too inscrutable to trust. He’d eventually put it out of mind, but now, with Ling Wind raising the matter again, he found himself entertaining new possibilities.

He stared at Ling Dream’s expressionless yet strikingly beautiful face, and his imagination began to wander to images of being attended by her. But almost immediately, he sensed a pair of resentful eyes upon him—turning, he saw Elia glowering with jealousy. He quickly banished his errant thoughts, donned a look of righteous solemnity, and said to Ling Wind, “Elder Ling Wind, I am grateful for your help, but as for Ling Dream serving me, there’s no need to mention it again. Even if Ling Dream is to join the Father God Church, it is the exalted Father God she will serve, not me.”

Ling Wind smiled without replying, but gave Link a meaningful look that made him somewhat uneasy. At the same time, Link recalled that he was, after all, the Father God himself. What difference was there between serving the Father God and serving him personally?

Many nuns and saintesses profess that their bodies and souls belong to the divine. Did that mean that all the nuns and saintesses of the Father God Church were, in effect, his own harem?

The thought of countless nuns and saintesses weeping and pleading to devote themselves to him was both amusing and chilling. It was one thing to fantasize—it would be a horror if it actually happened. Never mind whether he could handle it; nuns and saintesses were not necessarily beautiful, and if they turned out to be a herd of ogres, it would be a disaster. In that light, his earlier abolition of the celibacy rule had been truly prescient—at least he needn’t worry about a real-life Jurassic Park unfolding before him.

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