The cold air was filled with a sense of history. Horner walked slowly forward, his hand gently brushing against the cold wall, and finally sat on the bench.
He felt very tired, so tired that he just wanted to sleep like this, but he knew very well that he still had a lot of things to do. He raised his head hard, and then colorful light bathed his face.
Looking in the direction where the light was coming from, there were colorful paintings in the warmth. The mythical scenes were made up of large pieces of stained glass, but they were covered with dust.
Few people come to St. Mary's Cathedral anymore, and the influence of the Evangelical Church on Inglvig is decreasing. Nowadays, even the name of this church is rarely remembered, and people simply call it the White Church by its pure white feature.
Horner stared at the sunlight for a long time, until the dazzling light made his vision turn pale and tears flowed uncontrollably from the corners of his eyes. Only then did he slowly turn his head, breathing steadily and enjoying the peace.
He came from the lower town. His childhood was a very distant and vague thing for Horner. When he had clear memories, he had already been struggling on the streets of Old Dunling. Unfortunately, in the harsh environment, Horner did not learn the ability to read people's expressions, but became more dull.
Horner later learned the repair skills from an old master and eventually became one of the countless repairmen in Old Dunling. The city needed people like him. Steam pipes and machinery were spread throughout every corner of the city. New faults would appear every day and required repairmen to repair them immediately.
This dull maintenance worker has never been to school, and in his worldview he doesn't even know what so-called faith is. But he doesn't care. He likes this place very much. He comes here every time he has a break from work. Only here can Horner stay away from the noise of machinery.
The rare tranquility did not last long. A man walked slowly from the church door. He seemed to be very familiar with Horner and came to his side with a smile on his face.
"Teacher Lawrence."
Horner raised his head somewhat stiffly, his eyes somewhat dull, as if the soul within had already sunk into the darkness of his pupils.
Lawrence nodded and sat beside him, still looking amiable, just like the light that sprinkled in the church.
"You look like you can barely control it."
Horner looked terrible. Although he maintained his human form, Lawrence knew very well that the sinful blood was now running rampant in his body.
Horner nodded, and like his character, his movements were as stiff as a machine.
"So you come here to need my help this time?"
Horner nodded again.
"I'm almost there. The only thing left is one person, my mentor."
The dull voice suddenly carried some emotion, and Horner seemed to be laughing, his voice rising and falling.
"My justice is about to be done, it is about to be done."
"But gifts also come with a price, child. You have asked for it more than once."
Lawrence shook his head, looking troubled, but Horner spoke quickly.
"Then I'll give it all to you. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Dedicate yourself to your God."