Of course, Orak, Arius, and Henwell each have their own independent quotas.

  Orak can bring ten subordinates for training, and Arius has the same.

  Henwell has twenty training slots, since the Archbishop holds him in high regard.

  Arius is busy now and likely won’t have time ter either.

  He asks Henwell to check out the situation here and arrange for others to come for training in the future.

  Henwell gives half of his twenty slots to Orak, keeping ten for himself.

  Add in the Phoenix family’s ten slots, and Orak now controls thirty slots.

  Right now, Orak only has thirty-three people under him, just three over the quota.

  Henwell pns to give him three more slots ter. Most of his own people are outside the city anyway, with only a few staying in Guardian City.

  Thanks to Henwell, even his knights not in Guardian City don’t g behind much in training speed.

  So, Henwell isn’t too concerned about these training quotas.

  What really matters to Henwell is the ability to stay in Guardian City long-term.

  He trusts Barnett’s skills and believes it won’t be long before his subordinates earn permanent residency.

  Henwell can use these quotas as stepping stones, but other professionals can’t.

  They constantly hustle across the Western Federation just to buy time to stay in Guardian City.

  A professional at the knight rank might, if lucky, get two months a year to train in Guardian City.

  Battle Knights fare better, possibly spending half the year there.

  As for Grand Knights, they’re not common at all.

  If a Grand Knight wants it, Guardian City grants them residency outright.

  Watching the professionals rushing through the streets, unwilling to waste a second, Henwell feels like he’s back in a past life.

  Those elite urbanites in fancy clothes, hustling nonstop, aren’t much different from these professionals!

  Besides the professionals rushing about like busy cattle, the city has other distinctive features.

  First, the architecture is incredibly orderly, with streets clearly divided and designed with solid military purposes.

  At every key intersection, Holy Spirit Church knights are stationed.

  With even a modest force combined with the building clusters, they can block off rge enemy advances.

  Put in modern terms: mounting four machine guns on this café would be enough to seal off the entire street.

  Many details throughout the city point to one fact, the entire city was built from the start as a massive war fortress.

  Henwell calcutes that if his army were to attack here, the cost would be enormous.

  Beyond the military aspects, Henwell notices that Holy Spirit Church’s chapels are scattered all over the city.

  Almost every other street has a chapel.

  After wandering a few blocks, Henwell starts to see a pattern in how these chapels are arranged.

  He mentally maps their locations and connects them with lines, forming a complex geometric pattern.

  Considering this is the Holy Spirit Church, known for powerful spellcasting, this might actually be a massive magical array or something simir.

  Damn!

  That would require more lives than I can count!

  I still have to think about the big bomb!

  Before Henwell can explore further, he’s approached by members of the Holy Spirit Church.

  By now, the church’s local leadership has received word and is ready to meet Henwell and the others.

  After changing into formal attire, Henwell and Orak take the church’s carriage to the rgest chapel in the city center.

  Standing in the pza is a towering statue over thirty meters tall.

  Henwell, along with the others, stops to bow in respect.

  Then, church knights escort them inside the chapel.

  The interior is extravagantly decorated, filled with exquisite sculptures and relief murals.

  All the metal ornaments are made from a ptinum-like metal.

  Above them hangs a massive stained-gss mural, stunningly beautiful but that’s not the main point.

  The chapel’s stained gss windows are arranged at just the right angles to channel natural light onto the ceiling mural.

  This makes the entire painting appear almost three-dimensional.

  As people move around, it even feels like the figures and scenes in the mural are shifting.

  You have to admit, the design is incredibly clever.

  At the far end of the hall stands a towering statue of a deity, several meters tall.

  Only now does Henwell get a clear look at its details.

  The statue depicts a male figure, holding scales in one hand and a longsword in the other.

  His face carries a gentle smile, as if radiating warmth and kindness to all living beings.

  In front of the statue, a figure in white robes faces away from Henwell and the others, praying silently.

  A church knight signals for Henwell and Orak to wait.

  After about half an hour, the prayer finishes.

  The worshiper then kneels before the statue, and all the knights follow suit, loudly chanting: “Holy Spirit, bless all living things; Holy Spirit, illuminate my soul!”

  Seeing this, Henwell and Orak quickly kneel and bow toward the statue.

  Henwell has pride, but he’s no hero from a novel or movie.

  Who do you think you are, a god?

  When you’re under someone’s roof, you bow when you have to.

  Bowing to a deity won’t kill you.

  Henwell is a practical man, he doesn’t care about gods or faith.

  He wouldn’t mind getting baptized and joining the Holy Spirit Church if it benefits him.

  After all, he’s a rebel at heart; rebelling against kings or gods is the same in his eyes.

  The worshiper then rises and turns to look at Henwell and Orak still kneeling on the floor.

  After a moment’s appraisal, he says, “You may rise. Actually, you two don’t need to perform the full rites with us, since you’re not yet followers of the deity.”

  Henwell replies seriously, “The deity is the deity. Whether or not one is a follower, respect must be shown.”

  The man smiles and nods gently, clearly pleased with Henwell’s answer.

  Then Henwell and Orak are led to a small chamber at the back.

  The worshiper introduces himself: “I am the Archbishop of the church here. You may call me Ashiburn.”

  Henwell and Orak stand and bow solemnly. “Greetings, Archbishop.”

  Ashiburn waves them off, gesturing for them to sit. “No need for such formalities. I’m merely a servant of the deity. Titles like Archbishop exist only to better serve His Majesty.”

  Though he says this, the smile in Ashiburn’s eyes shows he holds a favorable impression of the two.