Chapter 82: The Church Wants Her

The Emperor’s question remained suspended between them like a physical blade.

"Do you even know who your real enemy is?" His voice echoed softly off the polished obsidian floor, carrying an ancient weight that sent a phantom chill through the chamber.

Rhaevia stared at him, her expression an unreadable mask of ice. Her hands remained steady at her sides, but her inner Guide core hummed with sudden, cautious alertness.

Before she could form an answer, the enormous double doors of the audience chamber burst open. The heavy brass hinges groaned under the unexpected force of the entry.

A young palace attendant hurried inside, his polished leather boots skittering across the floor. He immediately lowered his head into a deep, desperate bow.

"Your Majesty," the attendant gasped, his voice trembling as he struggled to catch his breath.

The Emperor slowly leaned back, his eyes darkening as his expression hardened into stone.

"What is the meaning of this interruption?" the sovereign demanded, his voice dropping an octave.

"The Imperial Church has arrived, Sire," the attendant stammered, keeping his forehead firmly pointed toward the floorboards. "They have already crossed the outer sanctuary threshold."

An oppressive silence descended upon the grand hall.

Rhaevia’s eyes narrowed into sharp azure slits as she tracked the attendant’s trembling frame. Her instincts as a former general immediately began measuring the unexpected variable.

"The Church?" she murmured softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

The attendant swallowed hard, his throat making an audible gulp in the quiet room.

"They request an immediate, unscheduled audience with the Sovereign Guide," he admitted.

Major General Raevor Veyr stepped slightly forward, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the marble. His handsome face turned utterly cold as his eyes locked onto the palace servant.

"On whose authority?" Raevor asked, his low tone laced with lethal authority.

"The High Pontiff himself, Major General," the attendant whispered, unable to raise his gaze.

Rhaevia felt her Guide core tighten instantly, pulsing with an uncomfortable, rhythmic warmth. The familiar frustration flared within her soul like a sudden spark in dry brush.

Another institution wanted to place a leash around her neck. Another faction believed her sudden awakening gave them the absolute right to claim her body and mind.

The Emperor slowly sat back on his golden throne, his fingers tapping a rhythmic cadence against the carved armrests.

"Let them enter," he commanded coldly, gesturing toward the open archway.

The massive doors swung wide once again, admitting a procession of white-robed officials. They moved with synchronized grace, their heavy robes sweeping cleanly against the dark floor.

At their center walked an elderly man wearing elaborate silver-and-white ceremonial robes. A radiant symbol resembling an ancient, dying star was embroidered across his broad chest in shimmering metallic thread.

Behind him trailed several high-ranking Church Guardians, their posture rigid and militaristic. Every single one of them exuded the heavy, suffocating pressure of a high-tier Sentinel or Guide.

The High Pontiff brought his procession to a halt several meters before Rhaevia. His pale, deeply lined face raised slowly as his gaze traveled over her glowing azure eyes. He inclined his head in a precise, measured bow that carried more political etiquette than genuine reverence.

"Sovereign Guide Rhaevia Rythundeir," the old man spoke, his voice echoing with practiced melodic resonance.

Rhaevia didn’t bother to return the formal gesture. She stood tall, her posture unyielding as she fixed him with a frigid stare.

"What do you want?" she asked directly, cutting straight through the spiritual pretense.

The Pontiff raised his head, his pale eyes glittering with fanatical certainty.

"The Imperial Church formally requests immediate custody of your person," he announced smoothly.

The atmosphere in the audience chamber changed instantly, dropping several degrees as tension gripped the room.

Duchess Rythundeir stepped forward before the Pontiff could even finish his breath.

"No," the mother declared instantly. Her voice was not loud, but it carried the absolute weight of a matriarch who would burn down a star system for her child.

The High Pontiff shifted his gaze toward the Duchess, his expression remaining maddeningly serene.

"Duchess Rythundeir, this is not a matter that concerns personal maternal preference," he reasoned mildly.

"She is my daughter," the Duchess replied smoothly, taking another step to partially shield Rhaevia.

"She is a Sovereign Guide whose awakening has sent psychic shockwaves across the entire galaxy," the Pontiff countered, his voice rising slightly.

"She is still my daughter," the Duchess repeated, her tone devoid of fear.

The Pontiff’s serene expression tightened, a flicker of irritation breaking through his spiritual facade.

"The Church requires a full, uninterrupted spiritual examination of her Guide core," he insisted.

Raevor stepped into the space between the Church officials and the Rythundeir family.

"Denied," the Major General barked short and flat.

At his single word, several Church Guardians behind the Pontiff shifted their hands toward their concealed sidearms. Their muscles tensed, preparing for a sudden clash of high-grade powers.

Raevor’s 3S Sentinel aura erupted without further warning. The oppressive pressure smashed into the chamber like an invisible wall of solid iron, forcing several lower-ranked priests to stumble backward.

The heavy air seemed to turn instantly thick and suffocating under his raw intent.

"You don’t have the authority to take her," Raevor said, his dark eyes locking onto the Guardians.

The Pontiff turned his head toward the young military legend, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Major General Veyr, this matter concerns ancient forces far beyond military jurisdiction," he warned softly.

"Then explain to me why your very first request is physical custody," Raevor replied, his voice growing dangerously quiet.

Silence reclaimed the room as the Pontiff failed to produce an immediate answer.

Raevor’s eyes became even colder, calculating the spatial angles of everyone standing in the hall.

"If this is merely a peaceful examination, she has every right to refuse," the general pointed out.

The Pontiff bypassed the military officer entirely, turning his attention back to the young woman standing behind him.

"The Sovereign’s awakening is not merely a personal matter for you to decide, child," the old man said softly.

Rhaevia finally pushed past Raevor’s shoulder, stepping directly into the center of the confrontation.