My Celestial Ascension

“Your Holiness, what am I hearing?! Our Holy Son has been imprisoned by the Lionheart Empire?! This is unforgivable!”

Archbishop Gregor stormed into the chamber, his fury palpable. Every step he took made the air in the room tremble, his presence exuding righteous indignation.

“Calm yourself, Archbishop Gregor… We must remain composed and devise a way to free our Holy Son. Shouting will do us no good.”

The Pope’s voice, though calm, carried an undeniable weight, rippling through the room like an overwhelming tide. A heavy silence fell, and no one dared to utter another word.

Yet, despite the quiet, the sheer outrage in the chamber was evident. The Holy Son—an esteemed title bestowed only upon the most gifted prodigy of the Holy Church—had been imprisoned. And worse, the one responsible was none other than Emperor Philip Lionheart.

This was no mere insult.

It was a declaration of war.

The Pope’s expression darkened, his gaze burning with cold fury. “This is an act of war against us—the Holy Church.”

His words sent a chill through the room.

“This is no minor offense,” he continued, his tone razor-sharp. “Emperor Philip seeks to humiliate us—to trample on our honor and remind us of our so-called limits.”

The Pope’s piercing gaze swept across the chamber. “How do you think the world will react when they hear that our Holy Son—the one deemed invincible in both swordplay and magic—was captured by the Lionheart Empire and thrown into prison like a common criminal?”

The thought alone was unbearable. The mere whispers of such news would tarnish the Holy Church’s prestige.

“This is a disgrace that cannot be ignored!” The Pope’s voice grew heavier, his anger mounting. “We cannot let this go unpunished! The only way to erase this humiliation is to annihilate the Lionheart Empire and show the world what happens when they dare to defy us!”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room, growing louder until one of the bishops slammed his fist on the table and stood up, his face contorted with rage.

“We must crush them!” he declared. “Destroy their arrogance once and for all! They have gone too far this time. The Lionheart Empire must learn the price of provoking the Holy Church!”

Archbishop Gregor stepped forward, his voice seething with disdain. “Emperor Philip should be publicly executed as a warning to all who would dare oppose us. His death will send a clear message—no one defies the Holy Church and lives.”

The tension in the room thickened.

They were no longer merely discussing retaliation.

They were declaring vengeance.

“That won’t be easy,” the Pope said, his expression grave. “Emperor Philip has recently acquired several formidable treasures from the auction, and reports indicate that the Lionheart Empire’s military strength has increased by at least 30 percent.”

His words sent a ripple of unease through the chamber.

“If we rush into battle, we risk suffering tremendous losses,” the Pope continued. “Furthermore, they have the Holy Son. He is not just a prisoner but a powerful bargaining chip. One wrong move from us, and they could use him as leverage against us.”

A heavy silence settled over the room. Many of the church’s high-ranking members exchanged uneasy glances, stunned by the Pope’s measured response.

Then, Archbishop Gregor abruptly rose from his seat, his face flushed with fury. “Your Holiness, are you suggesting that we beg that insolent emperor for our Holy Son’s release?!” His voice thundered through the hall. “This is outrageous! I will never stand for such humiliation!”

“I am suggesting no such thing,” the Pope replied coolly.

His words carried such weight that Gregor immediately fell silent, his anger momentarily quelled. With a clenched jaw, he hesitated before sitting back down, lowering his gaze.

“…Forgive my outburst, Your Holiness,” he said, exhaling sharply. “I lost my temper.”

“It is good that you understand.” The Pope gave a small nod before continuing. “Now, take one hundred of our finest Holy Knights and pay the Lionheart Empire a visit.”

His voice darkened, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. “Give them one choice—release our Holy Son, or we reduce their Imperial City to ashes and make an example of them for all who dare oppose us.”

A sinister smile crept onto Archbishop Gregor’s lips.

“And take the Heroes with you,” the Pope added. “This will be a valuable lesson for them… and their presence will serve as an additional reminder of our power.”

Archbishop Gregor’s grin widened into something truly malicious. “As you command, Your Holiness. With the Heroes by our side, this will be far easier.”

Rising from his seat, he bowed deeply before swiftly departing. His heart pounded with excitement, his mind already savoring the moment when Emperor Philip would be brought to his knees.

As he strode through the grand halls, a twisted smile spread across his face.

“I’ll make sure that Emperor Philip pays dearly for defying the Holy Church,” he murmured darkly, his eyes gleaming with unrestrained malice.

With his objective clear, he made his way toward the Imperial Palace of the Holy Light Empire, where the summoned Heroes—warriors from another world—awaited. Soon, the Lionheart Empire would know the true meaning of divine retribution.

—

At the rear of the Imperial Palace, within the vast training grounds, the summoned Heroes—brought from another world through powerful summoning magic performed by the Holy Mages of the Holy Light Empire and the Holy Church—were locked in their usual grueling routine.

“This is getting ridiculously exhausting!” one of the Heroes groaned, swinging his heavy sword with both hands. Sweat trickled down his face, dripping onto the dusty ground beneath him. “We’ve been doing the same training for months! It’s so damn boring.”

“Right?!” another Hero chimed in, tossing his training spear aside. “We were summoned to this incredible, magical world, and all we do is train like a bunch of foot soldiers!”

“I don’t get it. Why is the Emperor keeping us locked up here, forcing us to train every single day? We’re Heroes—we already have incredible power! We don’t need this lousy routine!”

A third Hero let out an exasperated sigh, cracking his neck. “Forget training. I want to hold beautiful women in these hands of mine—not some damn sword.”

The group erupted in complaints, frustration bubbling over. They weren’t just soldiers—they were supposed to be legends, champions of prophecy. Yet, here they were, training like mere recruits, subjected to what they considered a humiliating grind.

Just then, a striking young woman with flowing black hair approached the group, an amused smile playing on her lips.

“Have you heard about that Hunter Party that’s been making waves recently?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity. “Rumor has it that they’re undefeatable—they’ve taken down countless SSS-rank monsters with ease.”

“I’ve heard about them too,” another girl chimed in, chuckling. “Apparently, their leader is insanely handsome, and all the members of his party are drop-dead gorgeous women.”

A young man with slick black hair smirked, a dreamy look in his eyes. “A guy surrounded by beautiful women…? Now that’s the kind of party I’d love to see in action.”

Their complaints briefly forgotten, the Heroes chatted among themselves, speculating about the mysterious Hunter Party. Yet, despite the momentary distraction, they soon returned to their training, exhaustion weighing heavily on them. Sweat clung to their bodies, their muscles ached, and the stench of hard work filled the air.

Suddenly, the steady rhythm of training was interrupted. A Holy Knight approached, his armor gleaming under the sun, an urgent look on his face. He halted before the leader of the Heroes—a striking young man with golden-blond hair and sharp, chiseled features.

“His Majesty has summoned all of you to the Imperial Throne Room immediately,” the knight announced, his tone grave. “Archbishop Gregor is here. He has urgent business with you.”

The air shifted. The lazy grumbling vanished in an instant, replaced by a tense curiosity. Something big was about to happen.

The Holy Knight’s excitement was evident as he spoke. “His Majesty and Archbishop Gregor await you in the Imperial Throne Hall.”

The blond-haired young man, leader of the summoned Heroes, nodded. “Lead the way. We will follow.”

Without hesitation, the Holy Knight turned on his heel and led them through the grand corridors of the palace. The air grew heavier with every step, an unseen force pressing down on them. As they neared the throne hall, a suffocating presence washed over them—powerful, immense, and far beyond anything they had ever encountered.

A shiver ran down one of the Heroes’ spines. His voice trembled as he whispered, “That aura… It’s incredible! I can feel it even from here!” His forehead glistened with sweat, his fists unconsciously clenched.

Another Hero swallowed hard, eyes darting toward the throne hall’s massive doors. “I agree. He’s beyond dangerous. We should be careful… and respectful.”

The leader of the Heroes, though composed, could not deny the tension tightening his chest. Archbishop Gregor…

As the towering doors creaked open, the group stepped inside the vast throne hall. At the far end of the chamber, seated upon his gilded throne, the Emperor of the Holy Light Empire regarded them with a stern yet approving gaze.

Standing beside him, clad in an ornate Holy Christ Cape, was a broad-shouldered man with an air of dominance. His presence was suffocating, and his expression exuded both pride and something more… something calculating.

The Emperor spoke after a brief pause, his deep voice echoing through the chamber. “You have all arrived. Tell me, how is your training progressing? Are you adjusting to life in this world?”

His gaze swept over them, taking in their hardened physiques. They were far stronger than when they had first arrived—a fact that pleased him greatly. He had no doubt they could now handle A-rank magical monsters with ease.

The blond-haired leader of the Heroes bowed his head respectfully. “Our training is progressing well, and we are growing stronger. As for adjusting to this world… we are still uncertain.”

The Emperor gave a slight nod, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “I see. Regardless, your progress is commendable.” His eyes shifted toward the robed man beside him. “This is His Lordship, Archbishop Gregor. He holds the second-highest authority within the Holy Church and commands great power.”

His tone grew firm. “Show him the respect he deserves.”

Immediately, the blond-haired Hero stepped forward and bowed deeply. “It is an honor to meet you, Sir.”

The other Heroes quickly followed suit, lowering their heads in unison.

Archbishop Gregor regarded them with an unreadable expression, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips. His sharp eyes glinted with something almost sinister—as if he were already setting a plan into motion.

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