May 24, 1982—
Demian Bentley stood before the tall silver-framed mirror resting against the corner of the modest inn room. The frame was old, adorned with faded grapevine motifs, yet the glass was clear enough to reflect the image of a boy—one who looked far older than his ten years would suggest.
His dark brown hair fell neatly across his forehead, curling slightly at the ends. Sharp gray eyes stared back at him, eyes that carried the weight of questions left unanswered. His nose was straight, his chin firm—too firm for a child. There was a calmness in his gaze, but also a flicker of emptiness, like someone who had seen too much too soon.
He wore the attire of a middle nobleman from Western Rosenthal —,a long charcoal-gray coat with bronze buttons, a dark blue satin waistcoat, and a neatly tied black ribbon at the collar. Wool trousers and polished leather shoes completed his outfit. Not extravagant, but refined enough to mark him as someone of importance.
Demian raised an eyebrow. He touched his cheek—it was a bit leaner now, after days of travel and sleepless nights.
He was standing.
And now, he had a purpose.
"This year, I have reached my 10th birthday. I've been eagerly waiting for this day because it is the day I receive a blessing from the gods".
I was born in the Golden Era...
An era where technology began to emerge. Many people have been helped by steam-powered machines. And not only that—
Technology has also become a weapon, combined with the power of the gods' blessings!
"Demian," a woman's voice called gently yet gracefully.
"Yes, Mom, I'm coming…"
I am Demian Bentley, son of a middle-ranking noble family, the Bentley family.
Demian came to meet his mother, who was sitting in the family room, a place filled with distinct classic accents.
"Demian, you're 10 years old now. Will you choose your father's church or mine?" his mother asked, slightly worried that Demian would be confused about which path to take.
"I'll choose your church," Demian said joyfully and firmly.
My father and mother serve different churches. My father worships Ares, the God of War, at the Church of War. My mother worships Selene, the Moon Goddess, at the Church of the Bright Moon. Their marriage was arranged.
"Alright, we will go to the Church of the Bright Moon this afternoon," Demian's mother said happily, touched that her son wanted to follow her path of worship.
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On the way to the Church of the Bright Moon with his mother, Demian rode in a classic car invented by the renowned engineer Karl Benz.
The classic car rumbled gently beneath them, its iron-bound wheels clattering over cobblestone streets slick with morning dew.
Although no horses pulled the vehicle forward, a low hiss of steam rose from the vents along its sides—a marvel of modern engineering, the latest invention to grace the cobbled streets of western Rosenthal. Its copper pipes gleamed under the pale sunlight, and the gears clicked rhythmically beneath the wooden floorboards.
Inside, Demian sat beside his mother, his gaze fixed to the window.
Outside, the city was beginning to stir. Narrow streets lined with brick buildings exhaled wisps of chimney smoke into the cold morning air. Gas lamps still flickered faintly, slowly fading against the pale light of dawn. Men in tall hats and women with parasols moved about, while children in patched clothing chased one another down the alleys.
Steam-belching trams rumbled past on rail tracks, and a patrol of the city's mechanical watchmen—a marvel of brass limbs and whirring joints—marched stiffly past on their morning round.
Demian's eyes lingered on the skyline, where gothic spires rose like black thorns into the mist. Among them, the grand silhouette Church of the Bright Moon loomed with quiet majesty, its stained-glass windows catching the sun and scattering colors like divine fire.
"Do you remember, Mother," he asked softly, "when the streets were still filled with horse-drawn carriages?"
Lady Melia Bentley gave a wistful smile, her gloved hand resting gently on his.
"I do, my dear. But the world moves forward, with or without our permission. Steam and faith now share the roads."
Demian had a strong interest in technology and wanted to learn more about it.
Excitedly, Demian asked,
"Mom! Can I become an engineer?"
His mother smiled at her son's dream,
"You can be anything you want. I will always support you."
They finally arrived at the Church of the Bright Moon in the north fork city in fork province. The church was large, with an ancient architectural style and sharp, pointed roofs.
Churches are not just houses of worship, but also the highest authorities in their regions.
"Welcome, Bishop Melia," the guards greeted Demian's mother.
Melia Bentley holds the position of Bishop in the Church of the Bright Moon—
An elderly woman with a strong mystical aura came out to greet Melia.
"Melia, does my grandson wish to join the Church of the Bright Moon?"
"Mm," Demian's mother nodded firmly and respectfully.
She was Agnes Cornelia, Melia Bentley's mother and the Archbishop of the Church of the Bright Moon—one of the most powerful people in Fork Province.
"Greet your grandmother," Demian's mother told him.
"Good afternoon, Grandma. Are you doing well?"
"Hahaha, my dear grandson, I'm doing well—especially if you stay here with me."
Demian's mother bid farewell as she had matters to attend to at the Bentley estate.
Agnes invited Demian inside the church to begin the ritual of receiving a blessing from Selene, the Moon Goddess.
The path to the Grand Hall bore the mark of ancient times, its walls lined with flickering torches casting dancing shadows upon the stone.
The great doors of the hall loomed ahead, towering and imposing, guarded by two formidable sorcerers whose presence alone stirred unease.
As Demian stepped inside... a deep silence blanketed the air.
Six angelic statues stood solemnly at his sides, and before him rose an enormous sculpture—the figure of the goddess Selene, enthroned upon a grand celestial chariot.
In the stillness that followed, Demian's eyes were drawn to the goddess's face. Though carved of stone, it seemed to pulse with divine presence.
A mighty aura emanated from the statue, washing over him like a tide of unseen force.
And then, the six angelic figures stirred—not in motion, but in spirit—each one releasing an overwhelming pressure.
The weight of their gaze bore down on him, relentless, sacred, and inescapable.
It was as if the heavens themselves demanded his knees to bend, commanding his soul to bow before Selene, the silent queen of moonlight and mystery.
Bap!! —
His awareness snapped back the moment Agnes Cornelia laid a firm hand on his shoulder.
Demian prepared to touch the crystal orb as Archbishop Agnes explained:
"In this world, there are has 9 major churches, each devoted to different gods. The Church of the Bright Moon is closely tied to mystical magic, illusion, dream manipulation, and sharp intuition.
The goddess Selene watches over humanity and blesses her worshippers. Within this church, there are nine phases of mystical power:
Dream Rope, Build Dreams, Endless Night, Sapphire, Dream Walking, Calamity, All Dreams, Half-Dream Angel, Dream Angel."
Demian thought to himself—gods need churches to strengthen their power. The more followers they have, the stronger they become, and the followers in return gain divine blessings. It's a mutual symbiosis.
Agnes continued more seriously,
"Demian, remember everything I just told you. Do not forget anything when you touch the dream crystal.
You will enter the Dream World, where you must face the trials of Goddess Selene. Do you understand?"
"Mm." Demian nodded firmly.
Demian reached out and touched the Dream Crystal...
Ding!—
The crystal pulled Demian into the Dream World. He saw strange visions—many eyes staring at him. He felt nauseated seeing scenes of massacres by a six-winged angel.
Boom!!—
Demian's body was forcibly ejected from the Dream World.
"What happened?! Why was I thrown out? Did I fail the ritual?!"
Everyone who witnessed the process was confused—nothing like this had ever happened before.
"Demian, it's alright. You may choose your own path," said Archbishop Agnes, heartbroken that her grandson had failed.
Demian quickly hid his sadness with a smile,
"Mm, I'll choose my own path."
Afterward, Agnes escorted Demian to the church gate, where the Bentley family servant was waiting.
Demian returned to the Bentley estate filled with disappointment—he had failed to fulfill his promise to his mother.
But upon arriving home, chaos erupted. Several guards had been attacked.
Panicked, Demian jumped out, wanting to find his mother…
But the servants met him with sorrowful, fearful faces, hesitating to speak to their young master.
"Young Master Demian, your mother has…"
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