Shortly before the clock struck twelve, Jeanne and her companions ascended the Great Clock Tower. Their footsteps echoed in the immense, silent space, a rhythmic tapping that seemed to swallow the air. Despite the noise, no one came to investigate; the tower appeared entirely deserted.
"Is the bell you usually ring electronically controlled? It's almost time, yet there isn't a soul in sight," Jeanne remarked.
The two women hurried up the stairs. Though they worried about missing the perfect moment, their current pace was more than sufficient.
"I'm not sure," Lemuen replied. "Whenever I was here before, I never saw anyone at the top. You know as well as I do that a Sankta can't really hide in this kind of environment."
She was right. In a place this dark, a Sankta's halo was essentially a permanent beacon. They weren't even sure if their ascent had been noticed from the outside. If someone below saw them climbing toward the roof, they might just think it was some festive game and follow them up.
Fortunately, their fears remained unfulfilled. The three of them reached the pinnacle of the tower exactly on schedule.
Cecilia had remained quiet throughout the climb, perhaps due to the oppressive darkness or because she didn't want to distract the two sisters who were working so hard to carry her. From the top of the tower, the view below was a sea of shifting heads. From this height, the halos of the thousands gathered looked like a swarm of fireflies, casting a soft, collective glow over the district.
"Looking down from here... it really does look like a field of fireflies," Lemuen whispered, leaning against the window frame.
Below, some of the crowd had noticed figures atop the lighthouse-like tower. The halos of the two Sankta inside were far too bright to miss, but the citizens didn't pay it much mind, assuming they were simply the bell-ringing staff accidentally exposing themselves.
The crowd buzzed with anticipation for the New Year and the tolling of the bell. They had no idea that the Pope had never intended for the "substitute" bell to ring this year. He had placed his faith entirely in Jeanne—not through blind hope, but because every meeting had convinced him of her potential to manifest miracles.
"Watch Cecilia for a moment. Make sure she doesn't wander off. I need to prepare."
Jeanne handed the girl to Lemuen. Suddenly, magical energy surged around her. Her casual clothes dissolved into motes of light, replaced by pure white garments and a suit of alabaster armor. In her hand, she gripped a banner, currently furled.
The braided hair behind her head unraveled, the golden strands flaring out like a pair of magnificent wings dancing in the wind. As the moonlight hit her white armor, it looked as if Jeanne's entire body had begun to emit its own radiance.
"So pretty..." Cecilia murmured. She didn't understand the mechanics of what was happening; she only saw the sister she liked transform into something breathtakingly beautiful.
Jeanne's usual gentle smile vanished, replaced by a look of solemn resolve. She gazed into the night sky, her arm sweeping the flagpole through the air as the banner, embroidered with the iris, unfurled with a sharp snap.
The moment the flag appeared, Lemuen felt as if Jeanne had become a source of light. Specks of starlight gathered around her, heightening the divine atmosphere. Simultaneously, something within the ancient bell beside them seemed to wake up, vibrating in resonance with Jeanne.
As the starlight merged into the holy banner, the fabric glowed with increasing intensity. Jeanne closed her eyes and spoke in a low, commanding voice:
"O my Holy Banner, manifest once more the miracle that has long been silent! Let the light that vanished a millennium ago shine here again—Luminosité Eternelle!!"
It was exactly midnight—the very second the world stepped into the New Year.
In a normal year, the substitute bell would have rung a minute later. But at the very moment the people prepared to celebrate, a sudden throb of emotion surged from the depths of their hearts.
For a heartbeat, they felt as if they were standing in boundless light—a kingdom of clouds where they could fly without restraint. It was a sensation no Sankta had felt in centuries; it felt like returning home.
When they snapped back to reality, an even greater shock awaited them. The sky over Laterano had ignited!
Though it was the dead of night, the city became as bright as high noon. It was as if a second sun had risen, and its source was the stone tower standing before them.
The expressions of the crowd turned solemn. They began to murmur verses—the ancient texts describing the experiences of the First Saints a thousand years ago.
By day, the Sankta walked upon the desolate earth. The sun was swallowed by darkness, and light could not guide their way.
By night, the armies of the Sarkaz attacked, slaughtering the Sankta until many lives were lost.
The Saints led the people to the Stone Tower and rang the bell. Then, light descended, and the demons were driven back.
This was the Revelation. The Saints built a city near the tower and called it Laterano.
Every Sankta present recited these classics with devotion, witnessing the same miracle their ancestors had seen. Words failed to describe the passion in their hearts. As one, the entire crowd dropped to one knee, bowing their heads toward the Revelation Tower in an act of absolute fealty.
It was a sight no Emperor on Terra could ever command—a spontaneous, heartfelt submission found only in a city of miracles.
"How is this possible? That thing has never rung... and now the legend is actually coming true?"
The Pathfinders hidden nearby were stunned into silence. They didn't know how to process what they were seeing, but they knew they couldn't afford to dither.
"Don't just stand there! Use this distraction! Move now!"
Their subsequent explosions, however, failed to cause the intended panic. The Sankta who had just witnessed a miracle were now completely devoid of fear. An explosion was a triviality; even if a Sarkaz army appeared right now, they would have the courage to drive them back. They were effectively "buffed" with unity and fearlessness. Combined with their firearms, they were a force no one would want to touch.
Seeing this, the Pathfinders abandoned their plan to engage the citizens in the chaos. They detonated their remaining charges and fled, hoping to reach their next objectives before the Apostolic Knights—who were already closing in—could surround them.
They could only pray that their Leader's plan would go more smoothly.
Meanwhile, outside the Basilica, the "rabbit" that Fiammetta had been staking out for two days finally arrived at the "tree stump" he was destined to crash into.