North Ufiga inland, the capital city of Addus—Yadith.
On the outskirts of Yadith, at the edge of a lush oasis, stands the oldest building in all of Yadith: the Light-Prayer Cathedral.
Although the Light-Prayer Cathedral is now a typical Radiance Church, legend has it that even before the name “Addus” came into formal use, before the teachings of the Three Saints spread north, before the Radiant Savior enacted salvation, this structure was already here—witness to the rise and fall of both Yadith and the entire region, and spectator to countless historical upheavals.
At this moment, Dorothy, dressed in the traditional North Ufiga–style women’s robe with headscarf and veil, is standing outside the Light-Prayer Cathedral, curiously surveying her surroundings. In her view, aside from the numerous common people of Yadith who have come to pray, the other striking feature is the array of buildings with strange designs all around.
Right now, Dorothy is positioned at the forecourt of the cathedral proper. A long, paved stone road leads straight up to the cathedral’s main entrance, bustling with crowds of civilians coming and going. On both sides of this road stand rows of towering obelisks—about ten meters tall—spaced evenly apart. They are perfectly square in cross-section, with no visible engravings on their surfaces, and their pointed tips thrust skyward like spears.
At the end of this stone causeway rises the cathedral proper, a tall building with a triangular roof upheld by numerous thick columns. The columns themselves are adorned with complicated, mysterious runes circling around them. Each one stands close to ten meters in height. The whole “cathedral” has a majestic, ancient aura that cannot be overlooked.
“Compared to those churches on the main continent, the style here is drastically different. Well, this is from the Second Epoch, after all—though it’s been repurposed into a church, its original features remain impossible to hide. Rather than calling it a church, it’s more accurate to say it’s a temple.”
Such are Dorothy’s thoughts as she observes the scene. She doesn’t rush inside immediately but instead keeps examining the neat rows of obelisks lining the road. To a casual onlooker, these monoliths may not look especially noteworthy, but to Dorothy they are quite fascinating.
Though the obelisks appear plain, Dorothy—being a Revelation Beyonder—can visually calculate each monument’s parameters. There are many obelisks here, yet their proportions, spacing, and virtually every measurement are uniformly precise to a frightening degree—far beyond the capability of modern construction. It’s enough to make one wonder if they were built by human hands at all.
Ordinary folk would never notice such meticulous details, but for Dorothy—an “Enlightened” by way of Revelation—these hints are easy to detect. Moreover, that razor-sharp precision holds a unique beauty in the eyes of someone with “Revelation,” so Dorothy spotted it immediately. “These obelisks must be from the First Dynasty of the Second Epoch. A civilization founded on ‘Revelation’ leaves many subtle ‘Revelation’ marks…”
She ponders this inwardly, and after scanning the area, she notices a signboard ahead that appears to be a tourist guide for foreign visitors. Brimming with curiosity, she goes over to read it. Because Yadith often hosted foreigners before the war, the city still has various tourist facilities in place.
Upon checking the sign, Dorothy sees it describes this array of obelisks. The text calls them “Light-Prayer Monoliths,” though in this case “Light” refers to “Lightning” rather than “Radiance.”
According to the information, at certain times of year these obelisks become more apt to attract natural lightning. When a bolt from the sky strikes one of the monoliths, the electricity leaps between their pointed tops, momentarily chaining from one to another before vanishing.
However, because Yadith rarely sees stormy weather even twice a year, observing such a phenomenon is almost impossibly rare. Few tourists ever manage to witness it. The sign includes a simple illustration showing how lightning hits one obelisk, and sparks jump between the peaks of several others.
“Oh-ho, so these pillars can summon lightning? Could this be related to my Roaring Fury Path? And according to this, once lightning strikes them, it arcs across the tips of the monoliths—what would that even look like?”
Dorothy thinks this as she reads the sign, imagining the scene described.
Once finished observing the obelisk array outside the “church,” she continues along the path and joins the praying crowd entering the cathedral’s main building. Ascending the long flight of steps and passing through two towering stone pillars, she steps inside to find an expansive space.
Massive pillars support a ceiling punctuated by huge openings, allowing sunlight from above to flood in. On the flagstone floor—made of finely patterned slabs—countless people kneel and pray. This open-air hall extends toward a deeper area containing an altar, which, though unmistakably Radiance-inspired, looks out of step with the older architecture around it. Resting atop the altar is a large holy emblem of the Radiant Savior, while the emblem of the Three Saints that typically stands beside it is nowhere to be found.
Armed guards from the revolutionary army stand posted along both sides of the hall. In addition, several men wearing the distinctive vestments of the Savior’s Advent Sect hold scriptures in their hands as they preach to Yadith’s citizens who have come with Shadi to worship.
“The security here is pretty tight. This place is now the main base of the Savior’s Advent Sect in Yadith, and the original Three Saints cathedral has been reconfigured to worship only the Savior. Of course, whether it’s the Three Saints or the Savior, neither is the original deity this temple was built for…”
After a quick scan of the great hall, Dorothy reflects on that point. She follows the crowd deeper into the hall, observing her surroundings more carefully. Eventually, the patterns on the floor beneath her feet catch her eye.
The hall’s interior flooring consists of massive, weighty stone slabs, and each slab seems to have subtle, naturally formed grain lines. These lines appear unremarkable to most, but Dorothy sees something else.
Indeed, hidden within these grain lines is an imprint of Universal Script. Similar to the Stele of Advancement in the Star Numerology Scriptorium, these carvings lack any inherent spirituality, yet can prompt a Revelation Beyonder to interpret them automatically. This is “universal script” that only an artisan truly versed in the secrets of that script can inscribe. It’s different from the universal script Dorothy can write with her own mystical quill.
As Dorothy looks on, the lines in the hall’s floor morph before her eyes into text she can understand. At first, she wonders if these patterns might form some special message, but to her surprise they ultimately reshape themselves into a series of numbers.
Yes, numbers—what the Universal Script hidden in those floor tiles reveals are sets of digits. On nearly every large floor tile, there is a one- or two-digit number, while a few tiles remain completely blank. Moreover, at the base of certain pillars, Dorothy notices some Universal Script with meanings beyond just numbers.
“Numbers, huh? Interesting… So they didn’t just leave some secret passage’s coordinates written out in the open.”
Dorothy thinks this to herself. Initially, she assumed that the secret inside the Light-Prayer Cathedral might be similar to the Star Numerology Scriptorium ruin beneath Royal Crown University—where an entrance guided by Universal Script is visible only to those with Revelation. But though there is indeed Universal Script here, it doesn’t plainly indicate the location of any secret door. Instead, it consists of a set of digits whose purpose isn’t immediately obvious.
Noting the discovery on the floor tiles, Dorothy pretends to stroll around admiring the hall, quietly recording each tile’s pattern. After roaming a bit longer and confirming there’s nothing else to investigate, she randomly kneels to pray for a short while, then leaves the cathedral.
Returning to her hotel, Dorothy removes her headscarf and veil. Seated on the balcony, she recalls all the information she memorized—especially the numbers inside that grand hall.
In her mind, Dorothy reconstructs every tile’s digits in their original positions. Soon, she catches the underlying logic.
“So it’s basically a math puzzle…”
Reflecting on the arrangement of the numbers in the cathedral’s floor, Dorothy realizes that these inscribed digits form a sort of math game.
Not all the tiles have numbers. The numbered and blank tiles are interspersed across the cathedral floor, and deeper analysis reveals a consistent relationship among them. By using the numbers on certain tiles, one can deduce the numbers that belong on the blank tiles. At the base of the pillars, Dorothy found Universal Script giving the rules for this derivation.
Although various details differ, the puzzle remains reminiscent of Sudoku from Dorothy’s previous life.
Within the cathedral, there appear to be two main sections of numbered floor tiles: the large “puzzle area” and a much smaller “answer area” near the altar. In that answer area, basic digits from zero to nine are inscribed, which can be combined to fill in the missing numbers for the puzzle section.
Dorothy infers that the temple’s hidden secret only reveals itself after solving this otherworldly Sudoku. She likely has to step out the complete solution on the answer tiles in front of the altar—performing a “sacred dance” dedicated to whatever god this temple originally served. It seems to be a traditional First Dynasty ritual.
“Truly a civilization built on ‘Revelation.’ Even their worship comes in the form of a math puzzle. Fortunately, this one doesn’t seem too hard. A bit of calculation should crack it.”
So thinking, Dorothy closes her eyes and attempts to solve this massive otherworldly Sudoku that spans the entire temple floor. But after a short while, she frowns.
“This isn’t right… no matter how I try to work it out, there’s no solution. Did I miscalculate? No, that’s not the issue; they haven’t given all the clues!”
All of a sudden, Dorothy realizes the puzzle itself is missing one vital digit. There’s a tile that by all rights should carry a number, yet remains blank—without it, the conditions are incomplete. Without that necessary piece of data, there’s no solving this puzzle.
“So one tile is missing its digit… what’s going on? Did whoever made this puzzle slip up? Or did that tile get damaged somehow? But it doesn’t look that way…”
Her calculations thus stalled, Dorothy pauses in thought, idly rubbing her chin in search of the discrepancy. Finally, she recalls the series of obelisks at the cathedral entrance—those said to be capable of drawing lightning.
“If I remember correctly, in Balaar’s third notebook he mentioned that the people of the First Dynasty revered thunder, revered sacred numbers, and considered words and numbers to be bestowed by the gods. They believed wisdom was carried to humankind by lightning, so thunder symbolized revelation.
“Thinking more carefully… that array of lightning-catching obelisks might be guiding inspiration. According to the tourist info, when lightning strikes one of the pillars, electric arcs jump to the others, creating a display where multiple obelisks are linked by flashes of light.”
Pondering this, Dorothy recollects the simple illustration on the tourist sign that depicted arcs of lightning zigzagging between the obelisks. From a bird’s-eye view, those arcs could form a single character in Ancient Ufiga script—a digit. Linking that digit to the missing number in the puzzle, Dorothy instantly recognizes where that unfilled floor tile’s value is supposed to come from.
“I see… so that obelisk array is a ritual tool for seeking revelations from thunder. Once lightning strikes one monolith, arcs form between their pointed tips, and from above these arcs create a certain digit—a number in the language of the First Dynasty.
“If you insert that number back into the math puzzle inside the cathedral, the puzzle becomes solvable, and the entire problem is unlocked. Because each lightning strike yields a random digit, the puzzle’s final arrangement, and thus the ultimate solution, is unique every time.
“In a sense, it’s as if the thunder is presenting humans with a new challenge. For the First Dynasty—who honored lightning and believed that thunder conferred wisdom and inspiration—this would have been a deeply meaningful form of worship.”
Nodding thoughtfully, Dorothy surmises that if she wants to solve the temple’s puzzle, she needs to channel a bolt of lightning to strike one of the obelisks. The thunder’s “revelation” digit can then be placed into the puzzle in the cathedral, leading to a completed solution once she steps out the answer before the altar.
For Dorothy, carrying out these steps wouldn’t be difficult. The problem is, all of this must be performed at the Light-Prayer Cathedral, which is currently the territory of the Savior’s Advent Sect—and guarded by a Crimson-rank Beyonder. Does she really dare attempt all that manipulation under their watchful eyes?